Mary SanGiovanni is an award-winning American horror and thriller writer of over a dozen novels, includingThe Hollowertrilogy,Thrall,Chaos, The Kathy Ryan series, and others, as well as numerous novellas, short stories and non-fiction. Her work as been translated internationally. She has a Masters degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, Pittsburgh, and is currently a member of The Authors Guild, The International Thriller Writers, and Penn Writers. She is a co-host on the popular podcastThe Horror Show with Brian Keene, and hosts her own podcast on cosmic horror,Cosmic Shenanigans. She has the distinction of being one of the first women to speak about writing at the CIA Headquarters in Langley, VA, and offers talks and workshops on writing around the country. Born and raised in New Jersey, she currently resides in Pennsylvania.

Thrall by Mary SanGiovanni

The last thing Jesse Coaglan ever wanted to do was return to his hometown of Thrall, New Jersey. Tucked away in the wilds of the northwestern corner of the state, Thrall has always been a very strange place to live. The town was a poison that affected people's minds, their souls, their bodies, and their perspectives. So Jesse abandoned his friends and the one woman he loved, and left everything behind.

Seven years later, Jesse has found a reason to return — a reason that, in spite of his best attempts otherwise, he can't ignore. His old love, Mia Dalianis, has left him a voicemail message begging him to come back, if not for her, then for the daughter Jesse never knew he had. Jesse needs to go back. He's been running for a long time — from relationships, friendships, everything he is afraid of and feels guilty over. He realizes that the nightmares will never stop until he goes to Thrall. With help from Nadia Richards and some old surviving friends from Thrall, Jesse intends to find his daughter or die trying. He goes looking for redemption, but what he discovers about his old hometown may destroy him and everyone he's ever cared about.

CURATOR'S NOTE

What if Bruce Springsteen and Stephen King were the same person? Not that Mary Sangiovanni is a Baby Boomer or anything, but that's the vibe of Thrall, her supernatural thriller. Thrall is a poisoned old town tucked away in Jersey, and Jesse has to retrieve the daughter he didn't know he had from it. Cosmic shenanigans ensue! In a better world, this book would be a mass-market paperback on every drug store shelf. – Nick Mamatas

 

REVIEWS

  • "A feast of both visceral and existential horror—the gut tightens and the mind reels. Mary SanGiovanni joins that select cadre of women writers who are ignoring the safe old tropes and pushing the genre in new directions."

    – F. Paul Wilson, New York Times bestselling author of The Keep

  • "Packed with suspense, and deep seeded fears... really hard to put down…a solid horror story with a good dose ofterror!"

    – Dead, Buried, and Bac

  • "Afast-paced novel…stands out for its very original central idea."

    – Skulls in The Stars 
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

The whispering snapped off abruptly, as if someone had turned off a radio. No sounds of footsteps, and obviously no flush—there was only silence, stretched thin across several seconds. Nadia waited a few moments longer, then eased open the door and peered around it to the next stall. The door to the large one stood slightly open. She glanced around the empty bathroom and made a half-hearted search for feet under the other door. No one appeared to be in there. She crept up to it and placed a hesitant palm on the cool metal. It squealed in protest but swung open further on its hinges.

The stall was empty, except for a single quote. It was hastily smeared in crooked lettering on the back wall above the toilet, and looked to Nadia to be of the same substance she had seen splattered on the wall coming in. It simply read: "I am become death, shatterer of worlds."

She shivered. Death, shatterer of worlds.

Nadia backed out of the stall, frowning. Did she imagine the whispering? She didn't think so. That was the excuse they used in movies and books to justify something they knew damn well that they'd heard. Just the wind, just my imagination. That was bullshit. She'd heard whispering.

She turned to the sink and on a lark, tried a faucet. She was surprised to see it belch out rusty water that tapered off to a trickle. She washed her hands as best she could, keeping a wary eye all the while on the image of the stall door in the mirror. When she was done, she wiped her hands on her skirt to dry them. Her gaze trailed to the splatter by the exit. What was that stuff, anyway? Couldn't be blood, could it?

The loud BANG! of a slamming stall door made her jump. She wheeled around with a tiny squeak to face the row of toilets. The handicap stall's door swung on its hinge with a nerve-grating squeal, caught in the momentum of whatever force had slammed it. A corner of red cloth was just visible in the shadows beyond the doorway, partially obscured by the metal panel that came out to meet the door. Beneath that corner was a strip of denim, splotched with dark stains that spread out until the entire bottom cuff just above the scuffed shoe was dyed black. Just above the shoe. For Chrissakes, there was someone in the stall.

"Hello?" She cleared her throat of the snag that had nearly trapped her word. "Are—are you okay?" A hand reached out to open the stall. Nadia noticed the fingernails first—sepia tones beneath the chipped blue polish, they arced far past the muddy tips from which they sprouted. As the fingers drew back, those nails dug into the metal with a screech more horrible than that of the hinges. Nadia's eyes grew wide as she watched the paint of the door shredded upwards into little curlicues around the long furrows in the metal. The door pulled inward, and Nadia screamed.

She bolted for the doorway without looking back and darted through it into the square of blue dusk, away from the stink of rotted meat and whatever maybe deemed itself the "shatterer of worlds." She was barely around the corner when a figure took her up in its arms, and she screamed again.

Cover copy: The last thing Jesse Coaglan ever wanted to do was return to his hometown of Thrall, New Jersey. Tucked away in the wilds of the northwestern corner of the state, Thrall has always been a very strange place to live. The town was a poison that affected people's minds, their souls, their bodies, and their perspectives. So Jesse abandoned his friends and the one woman he loved, and left everything behind.

Seven years later, Jesse has found a reason to return — a reason that, in spite of his best attempts otherwise, he can't ignore. His old love, Mia Dalianis, has left him a voicemail message begging him to come back, if not for her, then for the daughter Jesse never knew he had. Jesse needs to go back. He's been running for a long time — from relationships, friendships, everything he is afraid of and feels guilty over. He realizes that the nightmares will never stop until he goes to Thrall. With help from Nadia Richards and some old surviving friends from Thrall, Jesse intends to find his daughter or die trying. He goes looking for redemption, but what he discovers about his old hometown may destroy him and everyone he's ever cared about.