{"product_id":"these-fleeting-shadows-isbn-9780593405116","title":"These Fleeting Shadows","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Haunting of Hill House\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eKnives Out\u003c\/i\u003e in a bid for an inheritance that will leave Helen Vaughan either rich...or dead.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHelen Vaughan doesn't know why she and her mother left their ancestral home at Harrowstone Hall, called Harrow, or why they haven't spoken to their extended family since. So when her grandfather dies, she's shocked to learn that he has left everything—the house, the grounds, and the money—to \u003ci\u003eher\u003c\/i\u003e. The inheritance comes with one condition: she must stay on the grounds of Harrow for one full year, or she'll be left with nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere is more at stake than money. For as long as she can remember, Harrow has haunted Helen's dreams—and now those dreams have become a waking nightmare. Helen knows that if she is going to survive the year, she needs to uncover the secrets of Harrow. Why is the house built like a labyrinth? What is digging the holes that appear in the woods each night?And why does the house itself seem to be making her sick?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith each twisted revelation, Helen questions what she knows about Harrow, her family, and even herself. She no longer wonders if she wants to leave…but if she can.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Kate Alice Marshall\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThese Fleeting Shadows\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e“Yes, we totally kept the lights on after reading this one.”—\u003ci\u003eE! News\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “If you’re a fan of spooky things, you’ll adore this… I want—nay—I demand that \u003ci\u003eThese Fleeting Shadows\u003c\/i\u003e be made into a streaming service Halloween-time horror movie.”—\u003ci\u003eGeek Girl Authority\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The genius of this book is how deftly the author winds together seeming disparate elements to form a cohesive whole... [A] strange and monstrously beautiful, uniquely inventive story.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Nerd Daily\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This novel has great suspense paired with a winding plot that will make you question the chapters you previously read.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Honey Pop\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Highly recommended for readers who love supernatural horror with a touch of mystery.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “By turns bewildering, nightmarish, and heart-wrenching.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Pulse-pounding… mystifying.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOur Last Echoes\u003c\/i\u003e:\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Fantastically immersive... Beautifully haunting and sure to keep readers up all night.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “A disturbingly imaginative tale that is both deeply human and truly terrifying.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Told in a series of prose chapters mixed with found documents and written confessions, this offers teen readers an engrossing journey that will appeal to fans of body horror and supernatural thrillers.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Marshall masterfully balances a building thrum of tension with perfectly timed jump scares.”—\u003ci\u003eBCCB\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eRules for Vanishing\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “This story is woven with eerie small town folklore, lost girls, and vengeful ghosts! I loved the documentary-style storytelling and I couldn't read it fast enough.”—\u003cb\u003eShea Ernshaw\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Deep\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eRules for Vanishing\u003c\/i\u003e will make you question what is real and what is illusion, and which option is more terrifying.”—\u003cb\u003eCaitlin Starling\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Luminous Dead\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eRules for Vanishing\u003c\/i\u003e has all the prerequisites of a horror classic--stunningly original, delightfully dark, and simply terrifying. A tense and exhilarating read for those with or without a pulse.”—\u003cb\u003eDana Mele\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003ePeople Like Us\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Delightfully chilling! Marshall delivers riveting twists, gasp-out-loud surprises, and a series of truly haunting revelations right up to the final page in this irresistible mystery.”—\u003cb\u003eNatalie C. Parker\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eSeafire\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “In this chilling tale, Marshall ties together regional folklore, urban legends, and ghost stories to craft an exquisitely unsettling dark fantasy.”­—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Engrossing.... [Readers] will enjoy this mashup of \u003ci\u003eThe X-Files\u003c\/i\u003e and the \u003ci\u003eThe Blair Witch Project\u003c\/i\u003e.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Marshall delivers a haunting tale about a childhood game that twists into a disturbing rescue mission.”—\u003ci\u003eSLJ\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Marshall keeps the twisty narrative intentionally murky, ensuring that readers, like Sara and her friends, may never find their way out.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eI Am Still Alive\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “This tense wire of a novel thrums with suspense. . . . [this book] just might be the highlight of your summer.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “An expertly conceived plot plus a true heroine (and her dog) make for an original, engrossing, and twisty survival story that I tore through compulsively. You won’t regret the hours that disappear when you read this one.”—\u003cb\u003eNancy Werlin\u003c\/b\u003e, National Book Award honoree and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I couldn’t set this book down—the words actually made me  shiver. It’s \u003ci\u003eHatchet \u003c\/i\u003emeets \u003ci\u003eThe Revenant\u003c\/i\u003e, infused with fierce, undaunted girl power.”—\u003cb\u003eS.A. Bodeen\u003c\/b\u003e, award-winning author of \u003ci\u003eThe Raft\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“If \u003ci\u003eHatchet\u003c\/i\u003e was your favorite book in grade school, but you wish it was filled with much more girl power, then \u003ci\u003eI Am Still Alive\u003c\/i\u003e is the book you've been waiting for.”—\u003ci\u003eBustle\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“A gripping adventure.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Wall Street Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e*\u003c\/b\u003e “A taut, gripping page-turner with a strong female hero to root for.”—\u003ci\u003eKirkus\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e *\u003c\/b\u003e “With masterful pacing, rich characterization, a dynamic voice, and a thrilling blend of wilderness survival and revenge, this is an engrossing read from a writer to watch.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e“A gripping tale of endurance and discovery of inner strength.”—\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e“[A] striking first novel. Marshall’s immersive descriptions will hook readers into this exhilarating survival story.”—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Marshall’s thrilling tale is also a deeply moving story about coming to terms with imperfections (both in oneself and in others) and about finding true resourcefulness and inner strength.”—\u003ci\u003eBookPage\u003c\/i\u003eKate Alice Marshall started writing before she could hold a pen properly, and never stopped. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with a chaotic menagerie of pets and family members, and ventures out in the summer to kayak and camp along Puget Sound. She is the author of the young adult novels \u003ci\u003eI Am Still Alive, Rules for Vanishing\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eOur Last Echoes\u003c\/i\u003e, as well as the middle grade novels \u003ci\u003eThirteens\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBrackenbeast.\u003c\/i\u003e Visit her online at katemarshallbooks.com.\u003cp\u003eAt that moment, the engine sputtered and died. Mom swore. She turned the key in the ignition but got nothing-not even a whine of the car attempting to start. She threw her door open and got out. Simon and I followed.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"What's wrong with it?\" I asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Well, according to my extensive automotive knowledge, the problem is that the go part isn't going,\" Simon said, hands on his hips.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom pulled her phone out of her pocket. \"Let me call Caleb. We can borrow a car, or . . . Damn it. I forgot-there's never any signal out here. We'll have to walk back to the house.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"It's not that far,\" I said, trying to sound upbeat in the face of Mom's distress.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe looked at me, face a wreck of worry. \"I'll go. You stay here,\" she said. \"I don't want you going back there. Simon, you stay with her.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI wasn't really eager to go back to that strange house. But I definitely didn't want her going alone. \"I'll be fine by myself. The gates are right there. I can always make a run for it,\" I joked. Twenty feet to freedom.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMom agreed reluctantly. \"Stay put,\" she ordered, giving me a quick hug before the two of them headed back. I watched as they made their way down the narrow lane, vanishing swiftly behind the trees as it bent.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe wind stirred the branches, making leaves shiver and branches rasp. I shifted from foot to foot, then started to pace back and forth. I almost didn't see it-that slip of white among the trees. My gaze snagged on it as I turned, and I paused, trying to work out what it was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA person.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe girl was about seven or eight years old, blond, wearing a simple white dress and no shoes. She crouched down just off the lane, her back to me. She seemed to be looking at something on the ground.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Hey,\" I called, frozen at the edge of the lane. She didn't look up. Her shoulders moved, and I realized she wasn't just looking at something-she was digging at the ground in front of her. \"Hey, are you okay?\" I called again and drew closer, uneasiness prickling at my skin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe girl scraped up handfuls of dirt from the ground and shoved them aside, moving with frantic efficiency. I approached cautiously, a hard lump in my throat. The ground was stiff with frost, and yet she kept digging, her hands red and chapped, one nail torn and bleeding.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Your hands!\" I said, reaching for her. She turned, and I balked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe had no face-none that I could see. There was only the crazed distortion of an ocular migraine, like a jagged crack in glass shot through with strobing light.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"We're not safe here,\" she said. Her voice was distorted, too, like I was hearing it underwater. \"Please. You have to find me.\" She sprang to her feet and dashed away along a deer track that shot through the trees.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Wait!\" I called, and without thinking or hesitating, I plunged after her. The path snaked ahead of me. A flicker of white flashed around a bend in the narrow trail, out of sight. \"Stop!\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Find me,\" the girl said-and her voice was a whisper, but it echoed through the trees. I ran after her. \"Hurry.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI spilled out onto a wider path, this one lined with gravel that crunched under my heels. White bell-shaped flowers were scattered here and there. I caught glimpses of the girl flickering away at each bend in the path, but no matter how much speed I put on, she kept darting out of sight.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI came around a bend and halted abruptly. I was standing at the edge of the cemetery. My grandfather's grave was a rectangle of brown earth among the green.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA young woman stood with her back to me, beside a worn headstone that was covered with clumps of moss. She wore a long gray dress and had a leather satchel at her hip. Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, dark as the shadows among the trees. With a small hooked knife, she scraped some of the moss into a little glass jar before tucking it into her bag.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe twisted, looking over her shoulder, and spotted me. She scowled. Her face was sharp, almost fox-like. Not a comfortable face to look at for long, even from this distance. My heart beat fast in my chest, but I couldn't tell if it was fear or something altogether different.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI drew forward, step by faltering step, and stopped short of the gate. \"Hi,\" I said weakly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe arched an eyebrow. \"What do you want?\" she asked.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Sorry. I didn't mean to-there was this girl,\" I said. \"Blond, maybe seven or eight? I think she might be lost, so I was following her, but . . .\" Except I hadn't really thought she'd been lost, had I? Why had I run after her? I couldn't remember now, and that sent a cold shiver of dread down my spine.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"It's not a good idea to follow strange things into the woods,\" she replied.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"She's a girl, not a thing,\" I snapped.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe young woman gave me an appraising look. \"She's not lost. She's not dangerous, but it's still not a good idea to let her lead you around,\" she said, as if this clarified things.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"She's . . .\" I took a deep breath and dropped my voice to a whisper. \"Is she a ghost?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe gave a sharp startling laugh, like a bark. \"No. There are no ghosts at Harrow.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI flushed. \"Right. Ghosts aren't real. Obviously.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"That's not what I said,\" she replied with exaggerated patience, as if I were a small child or a dimwitted pug. There are no ghosts at Harrow. My mother had said that, too. The girl sighed. \"Haven't they told you anything?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"I'm just-my name is Helen. I'm here because-I'm Leopold Vaughan's granddaughter? And there was a funeral, and . . .\" I wasn't sure exactly what it was I was trying to explain.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Yes. I know. You're Helen Vaughan, Mistress of Harrow. Waltzing in and claiming what you think is yours, just like the rest of your family.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI blinked. \"I'm sorry, what? Who told you that? I didn't-who are you?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe peered at me. \"They should have told you that, too,\" she said with a frown.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Well, they didn't. And I'm not Mistress of Harrow. I'm not mistress of anything. I turned it down. I'm leaving,\" I told her with more confidence than I felt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe studied me, considering. \"It's got a hold on you already,\" she murmured. \"You've got that look. If you walk away now, maybe it lets you go. But I doubt it.\" She seemed to come to some conclusion. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small leather pouch bound with twine. She held it out over the iron gate. \"Here. Take this. It's not much, but it might help.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen I hesitated, she shook the pouch impatiently. I drew forward and stretched out my hand. She set the little pouch in it, and as she drew her hand away, her fingertips brushed mine. A shock went through me, quick and sharp, and I drew in a hiss of breath. It felt-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI wasn't sure. It had been so quick I couldn't tell if it had hurt.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Don't run. It won't do any good,\" she advised, then turned away, done with me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Wait,\" I said. She looked back, annoyed. Repulsion, disgust, and instinctive anger I was used to, but annoyed was new. And I had no idea what I'd done to earn it. \"Did I do something to offend you?\"\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\"Not yet, but give it time,\" she said. With that, she turned on her heel and strode away, head held high, dark hair flung out behind her on the wind.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Viking Books for Young Readers","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304910344421,"sku":"NP9780593405116","price":18.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593405116.jpg?v=1767742416","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/these-fleeting-shadows-isbn-9780593405116","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}