Can you uncover evil in another’s dreams? You can if you were born with the birthmark of a dream walker. Lily Scott, a modern Salem witch, was born with this mark like the line of maternal ancestors that came before her. But Lily’s first adolescent attempt at dream-walking ended in disaster.
Now, decades later, her world explodes. Her husband is dead. Her daughter faces prison for the murder of a local witch. Her estranged sister, a Roman Catholic nun, struggles to protect the band of aging homeless women in her care. Lily must decide. Tap into her power to search for a killer, or let her fear of the Dream Stalker hold her back.
Can you uncover evil in another’s dreams? You can if you were born with the birthmark of a dream walker. Lily Scott, a modern Salem witch, was born with this mark like the line of maternal ancestors that came before her. But Lily’s first adolescent attempt at dream-walking ended in disaster.
Now, decades later, her world explodes. Her husband is dead. Her daughter faces prison for the murder of a local witch. Her estranged sister, a Roman Catholic nun, struggles to protect the band of aging homeless women in her care. Lily must decide. Tap into her power to search for a killer, or let her fear of the Dream Stalker hold her back.
"Those marked by the mighty Scáthach walk the labyrinthine paths of Shadow Land to seek justice. Yet that power comes with a warning. Beware of the lurking Stalker, for he exacts a monstrous toll from those he captures."
MacAskill family "Book of Secrets"
Â
Salem, Massachusetts—October 1, 2013
I stumbled through the early morning fog blanketing Salem's Gallows Hill, hurrying to the oak tree that my maternal grandmother, Sadie MacAskill, loved. When I was a child, she'd taught me that witches like ourselves derive energy from working with green, growing plants and trees. I could still feel our arms stretched around the oak's trunk, listening for the pulsing power within it.
"Feel Mother Earth's wisdom rising," she'd said.
I'd never needed wisdom more. The plan I'd cooked up with an old friend had gone terribly wrong. Kitty was supposed to bring my estranged daughter, Sarah, to dinner. Sarah's favorite dinner, creamy chicken pesto and pasta, was baking in the oven when I got the call.
"Kitty hasn't come home, and I'm not ready to see you without her. I may never be ready," Sarah said, her voice cold and unforgiving. She hung up before I could reply.
When I called her back, she refused to answer. If my husband, Sam, had still been alive, he'd have known what to do. But he'd died two years ago.
It was long after midnight when I threw the cold casserole down the disposal and crawled into bed. When sleep proved impossible, I paced the empty rooms of our Chestnut Street home until dawn, then grabbed the nearly empty bottle of homemade dandelion brandy as an offering to Nana's spirit and rode my Vespa to the park atop Gallows Hill.
Exhausted and headachy, I forgot to watch my step and tripped over a rock. I managed not to fall, but the bottle flew out of my hand. I watched it shatter, watched the last golden dregs seep into the grass. I felt like I was watching my relationship with my daughter ebb with it.
As I dropped shards of glass into the nearby trash can, the wind seemed to whisper that I didn't deserve to find the wisdom I needed. I'd failed Nana, and I'd failed my daughter.
"Enough self-pity." I pulled my leather jacket tighter and scurried past the crumbling pavilion and rusting flagpole to the ancient oak. Once again, I pressed my cheek to the rough bark, closed my eyes, and waited. The bark pulsed. A crow landed in the branches above me, cawing and shaking loose a shower of dead leaves. I opened my eyes, and for a moment, Nana's face wavered before me. Then she was gone, leaving me with my questions unanswered.
My cell vibrated. Who would call me this early? Sarah? Kitty with an explanation? I checked the screen. Neither. Honey Campbell, my landlord and a good friend. She owned the building on Pickering Wharf where we both ran our businesses. Her barbershop took up the first floor. My herbal studio, Healing Thyme, sat above it.
"Hi, Honey. What's up."
"Thought you'd want to know your friend, Kitty, came looking for you," Honey said in her soft Scottish brogue. "And bye-the-bye, she looked like shite. She stumbled off toward Moe's. You might yet find her there."
Two months earlier, Kitty had stopped me on the street. I'd taken her for a panhandler and almost turned her away. Then she said, "Lily, don't you remember me? My parents took us to New York to see West Side Story. We had the best time."
We'd shared a cup of coffee and Kitty shared her story. She'd been a high school biology teacher until she'd been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. The disease had taken everything from her: her teaching career, her home, her reason for living. She'd ended up lost on the streets.
Things had taken a turn for the better for Kitty when she found a permanent bed at St. Bridget's Homeless Shelter and, because of the doctor who volunteered his services there, Kitty's memory was making a remarkable improvement.
"Thanks, Honey. I'm on my way." I dashed back to the Vespa, strapped on my helmet, and started the engine. Usually, the thrum of the engine beneath me and the slapping rhythm of my braid tapping against my back soothed me. Not this morning. I pressed the throttle and hurried to Pickering Wharf, determined to find out what had gone wrong last night.
Â
To avoid being triggered, people who want to read this book should beware that it deals with suicide, drugs and murder.
Dream Stalker by Nancy Gardner is told from Lily Scott's perspective. She is the amateur sleuth whose friend asks her to "Find the truth" moments before committing suicide. Dealing with this trauma, Lily tries to reconnect with her estranged daughter and sister with the help of her old friend, Martin. But Lily's sister, who is a nun is preoccupied with fighting to save the homeless shelter she runs from the heir of the land who wants it replaced with high-rise condos. When the heir of the land, Jolene Williams, is found dead and the cellphone of Lily's daughter is at the scene of the crime, Sarah is arrested. After about three decades of her first disastrous walk among people's dreams, Lily must dream-walk again to discover what really happened to drive her friend to suicide and learn the identity of Jolene's killer to save Sarah.
From streets and landmarks of Salem during the fall to fleshed-out characters with distinct characteristics to learning about plants in Wicca, this book was entertaining and gripping when the action got going! There was also a Nancy Drew reference and a few scenes that had the classic Nancy Drew vibe, which I enjoyed. Sneaking around to find evidence, driving around Salem on a Vespa and interviewing people made the story fun! There was also no end of drama!
Gardner did a wonderful job with spacing out background information. It was always in bite-sized chunks that were relevant to the current events. The clues to the killer's identity were placed well and there were a couple of surprises that just added to the intrigue!
However, I do have one major complaint: the book is titled Dream Stalker. I didn't find that we got enough of this aspect of the story. Most of it was focused on Lily solving all of these issues in the waking world. Her few stints of dream-walking were brief and didn't reveal much information about the Dream Stalker. As the title of the book, I expected more. Although, I am looking forward to reading the rest of the trilogy once they're released!
Stay tuned for an in-depth review with spoilers on my blog: https://redwolfsroom.blogspot.com/