Amid the towering redwoods of the haunted Victorian town of Lost Grove stands the Orbriallis Institute, a center of medical innovation shrouded in mystery. Dr. Neil Owens, revered and feared for his obsession with human genetics, presides over the institute, where secrets fester behind closed doors.
Sergeant Seth Wolfe investigates the puzzling death of Sarah Elizabeth Grahams, with the Orbriallis Institute as her last known refuge. As he digs deeper, Seth uncovers a labyrinth of deception, where memories and truths blur like the mist that envelops Lost Grove. Meanwhile, local teens search for answers about Nettie's brotherâs disappearance and the enigmatic Green Man, uncovering chilling truths that compel them to turn to Seth.
As Seth navigates betrayal and danger, he must determine whether the institute is tied to Sarahâs death and the boyâs disappearanceâor if a sinister force is orchestrating its downfall. Racing against time, Seth and his allies must unravel the truth before itâs too late.
Fans of Stephen Kingâs "The Outsider" and Mary Stoneâs "Shadow Island FBI Mystery" series will find this eerie, twist-filled thriller irresistible.
Amid the towering redwoods of the haunted Victorian town of Lost Grove stands the Orbriallis Institute, a center of medical innovation shrouded in mystery. Dr. Neil Owens, revered and feared for his obsession with human genetics, presides over the institute, where secrets fester behind closed doors.
Sergeant Seth Wolfe investigates the puzzling death of Sarah Elizabeth Grahams, with the Orbriallis Institute as her last known refuge. As he digs deeper, Seth uncovers a labyrinth of deception, where memories and truths blur like the mist that envelops Lost Grove. Meanwhile, local teens search for answers about Nettie's brotherâs disappearance and the enigmatic Green Man, uncovering chilling truths that compel them to turn to Seth.
As Seth navigates betrayal and danger, he must determine whether the institute is tied to Sarahâs death and the boyâs disappearanceâor if a sinister force is orchestrating its downfall. Racing against time, Seth and his allies must unravel the truth before itâs too late.
Fans of Stephen Kingâs "The Outsider" and Mary Stoneâs "Shadow Island FBI Mystery" series will find this eerie, twist-filled thriller irresistible.
The sun had set on Lost Grove, and the streets were deserted as the nightâs chill wrapped around the town. The nearly full moon threw long shadows over the quaint homes, illuminated windows marking the occupantsâ evening routines inside. In one particular home, a gingerbread-style structure with white shutters and a bright red door, the Horne family was settling in for the night. The mother was downstairs feeding her youngest, but most of the food ended up on his chin and clothes instead of in his mouth. Weary and regretful, she tried to cling to sanity. The father had retreated to his office for some respite from parenting duties.
Upstairs, the eldest daughter stepped into her room, phone in hand. Blue light glowed on her face, and golden lamps illuminated a cozy atmosphere. Smiling, she tucked the device between her shoulder and ear as she chatted with a friend. Her hands worked to draw the curtains partially closed, unaware of the eyes watching her or the gleeful squeak released when she stepped into view.
âThere now, at last.â He released a contented sigh. His stomach flipped end over end, ecstatic at the sight of her. âI know this isnât the one Iâm meant to be watching, but I needed to check, I wanted to check, I had to. I had to. âNo, you donât have to do anything, Raymond.â Thatâs what he always says. âYou want to, but you donât need to, you donât have to,â but sometimes I think I do. Thatâs why I had to stop here first. To check on her. I have to, thatâs what he doesnât understand. Iâm not doing anything; Iâm just looking, making sure. âMaking sure of what?â Thatâs what he would say. I say, making sure sheâs happy, that sheâs still happy, even after what I did, what I had to do because you made me. See, then, I had to because you said, âRaymond, you have to do this,â then I did it. She looks happy,â he whispered to himself, his breath hitching in his throat.
Raymond LaRange crouched on a rooftop peak in the shadow of an elm, its gnarled branches casting spindly shadows over his face and body. Raymond had been a fixture here for years, and he knew how to blend into the trees like they were a part of him. He was so quiet that even the rustle of leaves underfoot didnât betray himâbut he didnât need to make a sound to watchâa ghost haunting the backyards of Lost Grove.
From this vantage point on the neighborâs roof, he could see straight into Antoinetta Horneâs bedroomâthe cozy space sheâd made her own with silk sheets and wispy curtains that billowed gently in the breeze on hot summer nights. Many nights, heâd watched her, but on those summer nights when she would lie on her bed playing with her phone or computer, he grew jealous of the breeze that got to caress her skin.
Raymond spent countless hours on the Millersâ roof, wishing to be the breeze or the friend she was laughing with. He knew this roof as he knew the forest paths, his feet traversing across the shingles like a dance. He spent more time on this roof than any other roof in town, though he knew he shouldnât. Dr. Owens had forbade him. But what Dr. Owens didnât know wouldnât kill him, and Raymond knew how to keep a secret, even one of his own.
He wasnât afraid of being heard by the Millers, he had âspecial talentsâ that could help with that. But Raymond liked testing the boundaries of safety, performing stunts to see how far he could push the Millers. Even when he danced a jig, or that one frigid winter he pretended to be Santa Claus, the Millers were never roused to suspicion.
Did they not care about the potential danger on their roof? Were they hard of hearing or even deaf, like the wife of the man who owned the drugstore?
âYou donât tell, so I wonât tell. Just like her. She knows I took him. You tried to tell everyone, but they wouldnât listen, Antoinetta. Poor Antoinetta. But youâre okay now. Are you? No, no, no. You laugh, you smile, you pretend. All the time. But you still look out the window. Sometimes, you look right at me, but you donât see me. Not anymore. Because youâre looking for him, not me. You want to see him; you want me to bring him back to you, but I wonât. Youâll never see him again.â
He watched her tap her phone and toss it to the bed. Her hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and she raised her arms as she walked behind a curtain. Raymond shimmied down toward the gutters, his feet clinging to the shingles, closer to the elm,
closer to her window. The frigid night air snaked around his body and ruffled his clothing as he descended closer and closer to the elm outside her window. His heart raced faster with every inch, sending shivers down his spine, blood to his loins, and raising goosebumps on his covered flesh. Another fleeting glimpse of her passing toward her closet. Her slim, pale body protected by nothing but a thin tank top.
He leaped to the tree and crouched in the crook of the elm. He leaned into the trunk, its rough bark digging into his cheek. The clock in their family room chimed a tune, alerting him to the hour.
âItâs time to go now. Iâm not supposed to be here. I have orders. Iâve been given my orders. âDo not fail me, Raymond.â Fail, fail, when? Never. Under mother maybe, but not you. I have to go now, Antoinetta. Tonight, I visit someone else close to you. Iâve seen you together, with both of them, your friends. You have friends. Youâre happy. Donât worry, though. I wonât take her tonight. âNot tonight, Raymond, thereâs a special time, and itâs very important, the time. Just look, just study, prepare yourself.â Okay, Iâm going.â
Raymond moved quickly back across the Millersâ roof, hands and feet in a blur as he crab-walked backward up the steep incline like a giant spider. At the peak, he tucked into a tight ball and spun himself across the apex before careening down the other side. He clung to the chimney and leaned over, his ear pressed against its sooty opening, listening intently for any sign of life from within.
âDid you hear me, Randy and Verna?â
Raymond carefully wrapped his arms around the edge of the chimney, feeling the sharp and cold brick between his fingers. He pulled himself over and descended slowly into the Millersâ yard below. His boots made no sound as they touched down on the moist grass, and he beelined for the back door, sneaking a peek at Randy and Verna in their kitchen washing dishes side by side.
Raymond suddenly took off like a silver bullet, his feet pounding the ground in a frenzied rhythm. He jumped the Millersâ fence with ease and sprinted across the Gradysâ yard, dodging flowerbeds and scurrying past their slumbering Labrador retriever. Then on through the Harrisonsâ, then the Matlocksâ, then Mrs. Gormanâs, then the Alexander-Walkersâ, swiftly across McKinley Avenue, around the corner of Grant Avenue, onto Lincoln, then Crowley Avenue, taking an abrupt right through Rich and Allison Godfreyâs front yard, along the property line butting up against Vince and Linda Hollingerâs land.
Raymond picked up speed as he pounded past the edge of their house, then sprang into the air and curled his arms around a thick, horizontal branch of the giant cedar tree in their backyard. He swung his body up and over and rotated gracefully before settling on the limb. He weaved through the branches like a gymnast until he was perched just across from the window of the second story of the house behind the Hollingersâ.
âThe lightâs on, but youâre not there,â he whispered.
Raymond scanned the other windows facing the Hollingersâ backyard. A dull, flickering light from the living room was the only other sign of occupancy.
âGood, good, you stay there, both of you. But not you. Where are you? Your light is on and waiting for you to step into it. I wait, thatâs what I do. I wait and wait and wait and wait andâoh!â
A shadow danced across the far wall of the bedroom, across two large bookcases filled with books and trinkets. Every few seconds, a thin, fleeting shadow would skitter across the room as if it were trying to decide whether or not it wanted to stay.
âAnd youâd like to play, wouldnât you? I know you would. Come out from behind those shadows and play with me. Dance with me. Let me guide you with my eyes.â
Then she came into view as if summoned by his delicately whispered words, crossing her room in nothing but a bath towel and her damp, golden hair caressing her shoulders.
âOh...oh...oh...I see. Oh dear, you did come to play, didnât you?â
Digging into her dresser, she pulled outâ
âLittle shorts...socks...a shirt, and oh...yes, grab those tiny underwear. So soft, so clean, just like you.â
As if solely to taunt him, she walked back across her room and out of view. Only the flickering of her shadow played across
the back wall as she took her time dawdling with her clothes.
âGet back out here, young miss. I wonât play with shadows; no, I will not. That is a rule I shall not break. No shadows. Now
getââ
She walked back into view draped in an oversized, well-worn T-shirt of her fatherâs, her feet tucked into a pair of fuzzy
slippers. Making her way to the corner of the room, she slumped into the chair at her desk and pulled open the lid of her laptop; its bright light illuminated her delicate features.
âWhy, hello, Zoe Andalusian.â
In The Orbriallis Institute: Lost Grove â Part Two, readers are taken into the Institute itself and are introduced to Dr Neil Owens and his secrets. As Sergeant Wolfe continues his investigation into Sarahâs death and her time spent at the Orbriallis Institute, the townâs teenagers run their own investigation into the Green Man. Itâs a patient tale of suspicion, where everyone and everything is connected but how?
Part Two jumps right back into the story, gently reminding the reader of what has already happened, while immediately confirming a handful of lingering questions from Part One. In Part Two, it is clear that the authors have settled into their characters as the novel has better construction, feels less clunky and has a natural flow in the overall storytelling, making The Orbriallis Institute easier to read. What Part Two did well was explore hard but universal themes such as complex parent-child relationships, sacrifice, betrayal, trust (in others and oneâs own instincts) and the acceptance of those who are different and of oneself. This deepened the story and made its events and characters feel more tangible while still living up to its genre: chilling mystery.
As the heart of the story, it elevates the rich and interwoven characters established in Part One and hits the ground running with a faster-paced narrative, pulling the reader in with an urgent eagerness to learn as much as possible and uncover the truth alongside the bookâs characters. In a maze of suspense and intrigue, pieces of the overall picture are brought to light as the teens band together to investigate the Green Man and not-children and Seth works hard to find out what the institute is up to and how it led to Sarahâs death. Throughout the story, readers get a real sense of friendship and community as characters with differing motives and lines of inquiry begin to work together, creating a heartwarming excitement from page to page.
Part Two is the perfect next step in this series, but some things lost it stars. While the narrative is greatly improved from that of Part One, The Orbriallis Institute leaves some aspects of the story unaddressed. There is no final âOh so thatâs whatâs been going on!â moment as it concludes. The authors have left a lot of detail to the readerâs imagination - simply put, some strands of the story arenât finished and are left unspoken. Additionally, there were small editing mistakes such as a comma after a full stop, clumsy sentence structure and no spaces after full stops.
With its âRiverdaleâ season one vibe, The Orbriallis Institute is a good choice for a winter read, especially for fans of suspense, the paranormal, horrors and wholesome teamwork adventures. However, be prepared to wish for a Part Three.