Beneath the handle, a rusted iron plate covered its keyhole. A single door offered an exit, one step up from the floor. The walls were made of cob: smoothly packed clay and straw, washed with lime. The mantel over the fireplace, a plank of sagging cedar, was empty. The room itself was unfamiliar, and nearly empty: just the bed I’d fallen from, a rickety wooden table and chair, and a palliasse in the corner near the fire, a second deerskin blanket crumpled behind it. It came from a fire of wood and peat, burning low in the hearth opposite the bed, filling the air with the smell of smoked dirt.

The light, as faint as it was, was still enough to make me squint. I lay there, waiting for the world to stop spinning. My body slipped from the blankets and thumped against the floor. The bonds that held my legs were the bedding: a sheet of cool white linen, a heavy wrap of deerskin on top. Now I lay upside down, half on the floor, half hanging from the mattress. Confused, it took me a moment to understand: I was looking at the ceiling. My throat burned, scratched, dried with hollow spit. When the spasms finally stopped, I rested my head on the floor, the packed dirt cool against my cheek. My muscles strained, but there was nothing in my cramping stomach to throw up. My stomach roiled, rebelled, and when I could stand it no more, I turned over and retched. My head ached with a deep, throbbing pulse, every thrum a promise to split my skull. I lay there, dizzy, stunned, my legs wrapped and bound above me.

But as motives and secrets are revealed, Christopher finds himself in a desperate race to reclaim his memories and discover the missing children before it’s too late. Thankfully, friends Tom and Sally find Christopher and help him reconnect with his unique skills and talents, even as his memories elude him. There are whispers that the malevolent ghost of the White Lady has returned to steal the children away, one by one, and consume their souls. Dark events have been happening in this corner of Britain-village children are disappearing without a trace. Villagers tell him he was possessed by an unseen evil, and only became conscious after being visited by the local witch.Īs Christopher tries to get his bearings, he realizes his current state may be far from coincidence. After being shipwrecked in Devonshire, he wakes up alone, his memories gone. Christopher Rowe is back and there are more puzzles, riddles, and secrets to uncover in this fourth novel of the award-winning Blackthorn Key series.Ĭhristopher Rowe has no idea who he is.

Kevin sands call of the wraith