The new saga continues where Michelle Hodkin’s original best-selling trilogy left off.
The Becoming of Noah Shaw,the first installment in this new series, hits shelves on Nov. 7.
Below, EW can exclusively reveal the cover and a sneak peek inside.
Credit: Simon & Schuster
Imagine it: five of us gathered like a wilting bouquet, my grandmother the lone thistle standing.
Grandfather, aka Lord Elliot II, was once a strapping, reed-backed but jolly Englishman’s Englishman.
I tried to heal him when that was a thing I realised I could do.
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It didn’t work.
I still don’t know why.
Never mind that my grandfather can’t do stepsLady Sylvia could not care less.
Add an unhealthy dose of botulinum toxin, and there’s your visual.
Standing beside the remains of my family, I’ve never felt more like a stranger.
A carefully landscaped wood helps obscure the twelfth-century ruins of the abbey that preceded it.
“All right, children.”
My grandmother clasps her hands together as the car comes to a stop.
“The carriage will begin the procession once everybody is assembled at the chapel.
Is that understood?”
If I were capable of feeling anything at the moment, I think I might hate her.
“Yes, Grandmother,” Katie says.
“Understood,” I say.
She arranges her and my grandfather’s iron hair, along with his suit.
The chapel doors are open, and a small crowd awaits the carriage hearse within and without.
(Yes, carriage hearses are a thing.)
This feels like an assault, a mess of sounds, like being surrounded by instruments being smashed.
And lo, among them stands Goose.
There’s a thunderclap of a hand on my shoulder.
“We’re so sorry,” Patrick follows.
A simple nod from Neirin.
We were not a foursome.
For that, we’d need to be bonded by secrets, and I shared none of mine.
Insert a stifled sob here, would you?
A forked tongue clicks beside my ear.
An aural fingerprint, distinctly her own, distinctly Mara.
The first time I heard her, I never wanted to listen to anyone else.
They break their gait, stopping, stampingone backs up, another sidesteps into another horse.
Then one of them rears, nearly snapping the harness.
The colour of Katie’s face is ash, her heartbeat racing the way the horses want to.
There’s anger there, fighting for a place beside her sadness.
Today is changing her, has changed her already.
I can feel the power of them in the ground.
My eyes meet Mara’s, and she stops short.
Looks at the horses, then back at me.
It’s her they’re terrified of.
I know it, she knows it, and so she vanishes as swiftly as she arrived.
