Novels by Sam Wills

The summons arrived on a Tuesday.Not an email or a phone call. An actual, honest-to-goodness summons. Parchment paper, wax seal, hand-delivered to my apartment by a man in a high-priced suit who disappeared before I could jump on him with questions.*Victoria Ashbourne, you are called to appear before the Council of Shadows on the evening of the new moon. Failure to do so will bring disastrous consequences. Your witness is needed regarding the Ashbourne ritual and the copycat events that transpired. Appear alone. Bring no safeguard. Use the entrance that appears at midnight.*I called Dr. Marsh immediately. "What in the devil is the Council of Shadows?"Her sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation I required. "Where did you get that summons?""Somebody delivered it. Dr. Marsh, what is this?""It's the ruling council. The organization that maintains order in the supernatural world. They mediate disputes, make rules, punish offenses. Victoria, they don't call people in unless so

The call was two weeks from the anniversary.Detective Chen, her voice formal with something I couldn't quite identify. "Victoria, I want you to go to London. Immediately. There has been an occurrence.""What kind of occurrence?""The kind that involves your field of expertise. And the kind that will kill you emotionally if I don't forewarn you first. So I'm forewarning you. Can you leave today?"I caught the next train. Texted Dr. Marsh and explained that I had an emergency. She replied immediately: *Be careful. Call if you need backup.*Detective Chen met me at the station. Her expression was stern. "Before we go to the scene, I need to tell you what we found.""Just tell me.""A family. Mother, father, teenage girl. All deceased. The father and mother both exhibit signs of burning, similar to your family members. The girl died from apparent smoke inhalation. But Victoria, the staging is the same as we found at your manor. The bodies, the position, all of it."My stomach dropped. "S

March 15th arrived like a funeral bell.Twenty-one years ago Elias died. Twenty-one years ago I stood and gazed through that chapel door and did nothing.I woke up long before morning, already feeling the weight. The date had been circled on my calendar for days. Red marker. Inevitable.I was off, Dr. Marsh informed me. "Grief anniversaries are tough," she explained. "Take time to remember it. Try not to work through it."But sitting still with my mind was impossible. Distraction. Purpose. Something to banish the memories.My cell phone rang. Text message from Detective Chen.Thinking of you today. Call you if you need anything.Then Mrs. Patterson: *Lighting the candle for Elias. And for you. Be gentle with yourself.*Iris was setting up an emergency session for the afternoon. Sarah offered to come by should I desire the companionship. The network was keeping room for me.But I was lonely. Deeply lonely.I got dressed and went through Oxford's deserted streets. Dawn light colored eve

Word spread quickly through the network.Within a week, I had three more requests for help. A woman in Gloucester seeing her dead husband's ghost. A teenager in Reading experiencing night terrors that left physical marks. A family in Milton Keynes whose house had become violently haunted after renovations."You're in demand," Dr. Marsh said when I showed her the messages. "Success breeds reputation. But Victoria, pace yourself. You've been training for six months. You're not ready for multiple complex cases simultaneously.""Then what do I do? Tell them no? Let them suffer because I'm not experienced enough?""You refer them to other practitioners. James can handle the Gloucester case. Anya specializes in night terror entities. Marcus has decades of experience with house hauntings. You don't have to solve everything yourself."I knew she was right. But part of me felt like refusing help was abandoning people the way I'd abandoned Elias."That's trauma talking," Iris said during our ne

The call came three weeks later.I was studying protective ward variations in Dr. Marsh's office when my phone rang. Unknown number, local area code."Victoria Ashbourne?" A man's voice, strained. "My name is Peter Garrett. Dr. Marsh gave me your number. She said you might be able to help with a supernatural problem."My first solo client. Anxiety and excitement warred in my stomach."Tell me what's happening," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt."My son, David. He's eight years old. Three months ago, he started talking to someone who wasn't there. Imaginary friend, we thought. But it's gotten worse. He's saying things he couldn't possibly know. Family secrets from generations back. And he's changing. Getting aggressive. Hurting himself.""Have you consulted doctors?""Of course. They found nothing physically wrong. Suggested psychiatric evaluation. But Miss Ashbourne, I know what I'm seeing. This isn't a mental illness. Something is using my son. Something that knows

Six months into training, Dr. Marsh introduced me to the others."They're gathering in London for our annual meeting," she explained. "The four practitioners I've trained over the years. They need to meet you. Evaluate you. Decide if you're ready to join the network officially.""Evaluate me?" Anxiety spiked. "What if they don't think I'm good enough?""Then you keep training until you are. But Victoria, you've progressed faster than anyone I've taught. Your sensitivity to supernatural forces, combined with your lived experience, gives you advantages the others didn't have. You'll be fine."The meeting was held in a private room at a London club. Old wood paneling, leather chairs, the smell of expensive cigars. It felt like stepping back in time.The four practitioners were already there when we arrived.First was James Chen, no relation to Detective Chen. He was in his forties, Chinese-British, with kind eyes and an air of quiet competence. "Manchester," he said when Dr. Marsh introd