Authors: Sarah L. Thomson
Praise for
Mercy: The Last New England Vampire
“A beautifully told tale of supernatural folklore and ancestry that ends in a terrifying thrill ride readers can sink their teeth into.”
âAmanda Marrone, bestselling author of
Devoured
In her novel
, Mercy: The Last New England Vampire,
Sarah Thomson got it right. Unlike so many other young adult vampire novels that cannot escape the fanged shadow of the fictional Dracula
, Mercy
is firmly grounded in the historical reality of vampires. It is clear that the novel's main character, Haley, understands that Mercy was a scapegoat and that it was fear of a mystifying illness that drove Mercy's family to perform a horrific ritual. As Haley so poignantly says of Mercy, “this wasn't a horror movie ⦠It was her life.”
âMichael Bell, author of
Food for the Dead
"Sarah Thomson's
Mercy
weaves the dark threads of an old New England legend into a contemporary tale of ghostly mystery that is both compelling and genuinely chilling. In a literary genre overrun with sparkling vampires and romance-novel angst, Thomson has crafted a welcome return to the shadowy terrors of graves and ghouls. I found myself unable to put the book down. A deliciously eerie way to pass a stormy night!"
âChristopher Rondina, author of
Vampires of New England
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Other fiction titles from Islandport Press
Billy Boy
by Jean Flahive
Contentment Cove
and
Young
by Miriam Colwell
Windswept
,
Mary Peters
, and
Silas Crockett
by Mary Ellen Chase
Available from
www.islandportpress.com
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MERCY
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L. T
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ISLANDPORT PRESS
P.O. Box 10
Yarmouth, Maine 04096
Copyright © 2011 by Sarah L. Thomson
First Islandport Press edition published September 2011
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-1-934031-55-1
Library of Congress Card Number: 2011925633
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Front and back cover photos: Sarah L. Thomson
Author photo: Mark Mattos
Book jacket design: Karen Hoots / Hoots Design
Book design: Michelle Lunt / Islandport Press
Publisher: Dean Lunt
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To Ann, Melissa, and KirstenâMercy's first fans
âS.L.T
.
I
woke that morning with blood on my pillow. Red blossoms on white linen, like roses in snow.
It was starting for me. Just as it had started for my mother and my sister.
Downstairs, I could hear Edwin coming in from the barn, carrying a bucket of fresh warm milk to the kitchen. Like any eight-year-old boy, he banged the door behind him. The sound of his voice filled the house to bursting. His spirits were exhausting. They sapped the heat from my veins.
But I was glad to hear him, all the same. When it was over for me, my father would still have his son to love.
The thought of my father made me rise from my bed, determined to wash the pillowcase before he could see. But I was suddenly dizzy from the effort of standing upright. And I caught sight of myself in the looking glass. My pale face drifted in the depths of the mirror like a drowned woman floating through fathoms of black, cold water.
I could tell. It wouldn't be long now.
“T
hat's where they burned her heart.” Haley pointed toward a low stone wall that ran along the edge of the Chestnut Hill Cemetery. “Right there.”
Melanie twisted her mouth and made a noise that sounded like
yurghch
. “Burned her heart? Why?”
“Because that's what you do with vampires.”
“I thought you drove a stake though their hearts,” Mel objected. “That's what they always do on
Buffy
.”
Haley shrugged, getting out her camera. “Maybe vampires in Rhode Island are different. Anyway, that's what they did.” She crouched down, holding the digital camera out, tilting it to try different angles. The pale slab of marble, leaning a little, centered itself in the screen and she took the photoâdirty white stone, faded grass shaggy at its feet, the late autumn sky, a chilly blue, distant behind it. The simple letters on the stone were sharp, in crisp focus. M
ERCY
L. B
ROWN
. D
AUGHTER OF
G
EORGE
T. & M
ARY
E. B
ROWN
. D
IED
J
AN
. 18, 1892. A
GED
19 Y
EARS
.