Ashes on the Waves

By Mary Lindsey

A sexy gothic romance based on Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee"

Liam MacGregor is cursed. Haunted by the wails of fantastical Bean Sidhes and labeled a demon by the villagers of Dòchas, Liam has accepted that things will never get better for him—until a wealthy heiress named Annabel Leighton arrives on the island and Liam’s fate is changed forever.

With Anna, Liam finally finds the happiness he has always been denied, but the violent, mythical Otherworlders, who inhabit the island and the sea around it, have other plans. They make a wager on the couple’s love, testing its strength through a series of cruel obstacles. But the tragedies draw Liam and Anna even closer. Frustrated, the creatures put the couple through one last trial—and this time it’s not only their love that’s in danger of being destroyed.
 

Based on Edgar Allan Poe’s chilling poem Annabel Lee, with references to many of his other poems including The Raven, Mary Lindsey creates a frighteningly beautiful gothic novel that glorifies the power of true love.

Perfect for fans of Lauren Kate's Fallen series, Kendra Blake's Anna Dressed in Blood, and Kelly Creagh's Nevermore.

Praise for ASHES ON THE WAVES
 
“Achingly beautiful and darkly sensuous ... an extraordinary read that left me breathless at every turn!” --Sophie Jordan, New York Times bestselling author of Firelight

“Mary Lindsey, inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, has created a haunting, mystical world. I loved this tragic, romantic story.” --Cate Tiernan, author of Sweep and Immortal Beloved

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781101603284

Book preview

1

There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him, who shuddering upon the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a Plunge. To indulge, for a moment, in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge, and are destroyed.

—Edgar Allan Poe,

from The Imp of the Perverse, 1845

She looked like something out of a dream . . . or a nightmare. Simultaneously, so terrible and beautiful, it made me ache.

Waves pounded against the jetty, shooting geysers of frigid salt water into the air as she leaned into the wind, her long hair whipping in all directions.

No. Stop! I shouted, but the howling gale and crashing waves consumed my words.

She took a step closer to the rocky edge and held her arms out to the side as if she were going to fly. But she wasn’t going to take flight. She was going to die.

No! I leapt onto the boulder at the base of the jetty and fought the wind, picking my way over the slick, moss-covered surface. Don’t do it!

Arms still spread, she tipped her head back, letting the spray from the waves shower her face, like a lover embracing the rage of the sea itself.

A huge wave slammed the rocks to my right. I crouched and gained a fingerhold on the rough surface to keep from being washed away.

Just a little farther and I’d be past the wave break point.

She turned toward me, her glassy eyes unfocused. I’d been there. I knew what she was experiencing in that trancelike stupor. Don’t do it, I bid her silently. She teetered for a moment and I felt certain she would fall backward. I was so close—within steps of reaching her. I couldn’t lose her now. No! Hang on! I shouted.

As beautiful as I thought she was before, it was nothing compared to seeing her face. Fine and delicate, bathed in the rich, caramel glow of the setting sun, her brow was drawn in concentration as she seemed to grasp the reality of her situation. She’d reached the point of no return. If she didn’t jump now, it was clear I wouldn’t let her. How badly did she want this release? How deep was the pain?

Not deep enough, I realized with relief as I wrapped my good arm around her waist and pulled her to me.

What the hell are you doing? she screamed, shoving against my chest. Are you freaking nuts? Let me go!

If I had been whole, I could have reasoned with her while standing. Instead, I was forced to sit, pulling her down with me in order to gain enough control to keep her from hurting herself—or me for that matter. As hard as she was struggling, we were both likely to end up in the sea.

Stop, I said in her ear as I forced her to her back and pinned her body with my own. She needed to be calm in order to listen to reason. The frigid water crashed against the rocks on all sides as her warmth seeped through our clothes into my skin.

Oh, God, she cried. What are you doing?

Lying on top of her, I trapped her legs between mine and held her arm over her head by her narrow wrist, the full length of my body immobilizing her except for her free arm, which she was using to beat the side of my head. I lowered my mouth to her ear. Stop, please, I said. I just want to help you.

She went still.

It felt like her flesh melted into mine as the tension ebbed from her like an evening tide. We remained like this for a while, breathing in unison and saying nothing, her body pliant beneath mine.

Sensing she had calmed, I lifted my weight from her slightly. In one swift movement, she shifted higher and slammed her knee into me.

Part of me marveled at her cleverness. The other part struggled to remain conscious through a wave of pain so intense I couldn’t breathe.

She muttered something indecipherable as I rolled onto my side and she pushed to her feet. Perhaps she had spoken clearly and it was just the sound of my pulse in my head that muffled her words.

Unable to move, I could only watch as she picked her way over the rocks toward the shore, never once looking back, now released from the call of the sea.

By the time the pain had subsided enough for me to get to my feet, she had cleared the jetty and was climbing the rocky path toward the mansion.

The structure loomed ominous and foreboding at the apex of the hill. The bottom half was shrouded in the dense fog that crept across the land from the water. Illuminated by lightning flashes, the mansion appeared alive—like a breathing stone monster waiting for the opportune moment to lay siege to our tiny village below.

I watched from behind a boulder marking the corner of the property as she raked the rain-soaked hair from her face and studied the stone beast as if she, too, sensed its mal-intent.

With her delicate, slender hands, she yanked the iron gate, but it only gave a few inches. The hinges screamed in protest as she gave it another tug and then another, until it finally yielded enough for her to squeeze through.

Inside the gaping mouth of the overhang at the front of the house, huge oak double doors with hand-hewn black metal hardware stood more like soldiers’ protective shields than a welcoming entrance. Everything about the place screamed go away, and I would have, but that wasn’t an option . . . not yet, anyway. Not until I was certain she was safe.

She banged ineffectively on the doors several times, then slapped her palms against them—her softness in complete opposition to the unyielding harshness of the structure.

She turned and I ducked behind the huge stone. I thought for a moment she had sensed my presence, but to my relief, she was simply looking for something on the path just off the porch. With almost unnatural grace, she descended the few steps of the porch and picked up a fist-size stone. Rolling it in her fingers, she climbed the steps and slammed it against one of the iron straps across the door.

The sharp raps reverberated against the stone of the mansion and echoed into the fog that had all but enveloped the island. As if in reply, lightning split the sky, making the house appear to lurch as it reflected off the leaded-glass windowpanes that shone like the eyes of a hundred night animals.

The doors groaned as they were drawn open from within. I didn’t see Miss Ronan, but I recognized her deep, liquid voice. You should not be outside after dark, Anna, she warned. Bad things happen after dark.

Anna shot a look over her shoulder toward the sea before running into gaping jaws of the mansion.

She was safe inside the belly of the monster: safe from the storm, safe from the call of the sea, and most of all, safe from me—a monster of another kind entirely.

* * *

A scream shattered Muireann’s sleep. She nudged her sister. Wake up! Something’s going on. Her sister responded by snorting twice, then rolling over.

There it was again, louder this time. They were torturing someone. She crawled to the edge of the rock ledge and put her head underwater.

Please, please, a youthful male voice pleaded. Give me another chance.

You had your chance, an older man answered. She recognized that voice. It was their leader.

It wasn’t my fault, the young male cried. I had her. He severed the connection. No, please . . .

Then the screaming began again.

Muireann lifted her head from the water and took a deep shuddering breath. She glanced over her shoulder to find her family still huddled comfortably together, deep in slumber.

Again, she put her head underwater, praying the young male would be released.

Who severed the connection? the leader’s voice boomed.

The broken one did it. He’s the reason she got away. Please don’t kill me.

There was a long silence. Muireann’s lungs ached. She should have taken a deeper breath.

"If we become too weak to remain in this realm, you will wish I had killed you, the leader said. There are things worse than death, son, as the broken one will soon discover."

Muireann pulled her head from the water, filling her lungs with a gasp. He had tortured his own son, she realized with horror. Muireann had no idea who the broken one was, but she knew he didn’t stand a chance.

2

From childhood’s hour I have not been

As others were—I have not seen

As others saw—I could not bring

My passions from a common spring—

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow—I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone—

And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—

—Edgar Allan Poe,

from Alone, 1830

Anna Leighton is on the island, Francine called from the storeroom behind the counter. I saw the helicopter come in between storms yesterday afternoon. Polly told me the girl was the only passenger."

I tugged open the lid on a small box of washers with my teeth and dumped them, letting the aluminum disks crash to the bottom of the bin in a shimmering metallic shower.

Francine emerged in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. I know you’ve been keeping up with her through those magazines you get from the vendors.

I shrugged, attempting nonchalance. Francine not only possessed a good heart, she was a keen observer. Every time an outsider came with a delivery, I’d ask if they had any old newspapers or magazines on their boat. Some had even begun saving them up for me, giving me sizable stacks when they delivered goods or picked up catch from the store. Most were local Maine newspapers, but the man who made the delivery this morning had left me a stack of magazines and newspapers from all over. I could hardly wait to look through them after work.

Maybe I could arrange for you to make a delivery to Taibhreamh, she said with a wink. I’m sure they need supplies of some sort up at the mansion.

I crushed the empty box into the garbage and placed another on the edge of the counter. Maybe they need some two-inch marine-grade hex bolts to display in one of their lovely hand-cut crystal decanters. I sliced the seal with a knife and turned the box over, letting the weight of the bolts push the lid open. As they clattered and crashed into the bin, I glanced up to find Francine studying me. She did that frequently, as if she were decoding a puzzle. In my case, the puzzle was destined to remain forever unsolved. There were too many missing pieces.

You have enough food at home, Liam?

I nodded, relieved she’d changed the subject.

The cowbell on the door clanged, and six-year-old Megan McAlister skipped into the store followed by her mother. I’d seen Megan around. She was sort of a celebrity in our tiny village, being the youngest resident and the only child. This was the first time she’d been in the store since I’d begun working here.

Hi, Miss Francine! Megan said, standing on her tiptoes to peek at the candy jars behind the counter. You got any saltwater taffy? ’Cause I need some. She opened her mouth and pointed at a bottom tooth. It’s wiggly and Mommy says I can have a piece of taffy since I lost my last one that way.

Francine patted her head. I most certainly do. We had a delivery this morning, and it just so happens, candy was in it. She reached in a jar and gave the little girl a piece of taffy.

I hope flour and cornmeal came too, Mrs. McAlister grumbled. You’ve been out for a week.

Francine opened a cabinet and hefted out a ten-pound cloth bag of flour. She dropped it on the counter with a thud punctuated by a puff of white powder. Weevils got in the last batch and this shipment was late because of the storms. Cornmeal will be here in a day or two, weather permitting. She wiped her hands on her apron. Need anything else?

Mrs. McAlister leaned closer. I hear the Leighton girl flew in yesterday. Miss Ronan had Polly and Edmond come up to Taibhreamh to help clean out the cellar and load the supplies off the helicopter. They said there was lots of it. It looks like she’s staying awhile.

My heart stopped beating for a moment. She would be here awhile.

Mrs. McAlister glanced over her shoulder at me, so I occupied myself by sorting hardware that customers had dropped back into the wrong bins.

Megan came over and tugged my shirttail. Can I help? She picked up a handful of sixteen-penny nails from the bottom row of bins. Obviously, she hadn’t been told about me yet or she’d have never gotten this close.

Sure, I said. Those go . . . I pointed to the bin from which they had come. There.

She gave me a gap-toothed grin and dropped the nails back into place. Other than my ma and Francine, this was the first time someone had actually smiled at me.

Well done.

Megan! Come away from him! her mother shrieked.

As if electrocuted, Megan ran to her mother’s side.

By this point in my life, I’d discovered that it was not possible to truly become desensitized or accustomed to discrimination. It is something one endures—and I had suffered it since my unfortunate birth almost eighteen years prior. Even my pa considered me an outcast.

Other than Ma, Francine was the only person who had ever treated me with respect. Well, other than Anna Leighton. But that was a long time ago; she probably didn’t even remember. She certainly hadn’t shown any signs of recognition last night on the jetty.

I took a deep breath and resumed sorting.

With only one good arm, he can’t be much help to you, Francine. Why do you keep him on here? Mrs. McAlister whispered just loud enough for me to hear. I’d learned that statements intended to cause hurt could be excused if accidentally imparted.

Why would I not? Francine’s voice was level, but her Scottish burr had deepened. I was familiar with this tone. She was angry.

Because he’s . . . Mrs. McAlister looked at me, then at Megan.

Another thing I’d learned about discrimination is that the perpetrator often dons a mask of false politeness to obscure the ugly reality of fear and hatred.

. . . He’s, you know . . .

Francine leaned over the counter so that her face was quite close to Mrs. McAlister’s. I don’t know. Why don’t you enlighten me, Katie lass?

The woman’s face flushed crimson.

Were it not for the fact I’d witnessed this scenario played numerous times, I’d have found solace in her discomfort. Instead, I knew it was yet another of Francine’s valiantly fought battles in a war she could never win. Neither of us could.

He’s cursed. He’s human flesh worn by a demon! Mrs. McAlister blurted out.

My heart sank as Megan, still clinging to her mother’s leg, stared up at me. She no longer wore her prior look of wonder and joy. Instead, she chewed her taffy, deep blue eyes brimming with distrust. The loathing her mother harbored would come later. Fear is instinctual; loathing is ingrained over time.

3

They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

—Edgar Allan Poe,

from Eleonora, 1841

Don’t think on it. Francine lowered herself into a chair across from me at the round table in the storeroom. The old ways are hard for folks to shake off. It’s simple ignorance."

There was nothing simple about this. The lore of my people was complex and ran as deep as human imagination allowed. I accepted the cup of tea she pushed toward me. Thank you.

Ordinarily, my situation was tolerable. In this case, it riled me to see a gentle child’s spirit tainted. Megan was as much a victim as I.

I’d learned long ago that I couldn’t stop it, but if I began to believe the stories, I would become as lost as they expected; I refused to let that happen. So instead, I had developed the ability to tune out the ugliness and bring beauty into focus. If that part of my soul remained dominant, the darker side of me could not advance.

My antidote? Anna Leighton. I hadn’t seen her close to twelve years, but she had sustained me since childhood. And she was here. Last night I’d seen her. Heard her voice. Felt her warmth seep into my own skin heating my very soul.

Liam? Are you okay? Francine’s pale eyes searched my face. You’re trembling.

So I was. Perfect concentric circles vibrated inward across the surface of the tea in the cup clutched firmly in my palm. I released the cup and leaned back in my chair. I’m fine.

She reached across the table and patted my hand. For all the reading you do, you certainly aren’t one for words, are you?

Words were inadequate. They never came out as intended. No. I gave her a smile.

The bell clanged, followed by a light creaking of the floorboards. Hello?

I stood so abruptly, I knocked my chair over. That voice. Her voice. All night, I’d run it through my head. Over the years, I’d often imagined what she’d sound like grown up. The reality exceeded expectations.

Hello? she said again. Is anyone here?

Just a moment, Francine called. She lowered her voice and leveled her gaze on me. Well, don’t just stand there with your jaw hanging open, Liam. Go help the girl.

No. Not now. Not yet. I shook my head.

Francine stood. For the love of heaven, lad. Make things happen. She patted my cheek. Just a moment. I’m coming!

I remained momentarily frozen in both mind and body. Last night, I’d come upon her by accident and had acted out of necessity. She’d been about to succumb to the call of the sea. Today, she was simply . . . here. Touching things I’d touched. Breathing the same air.

For so long I’d held on to her as a concept. Now she was tangible.

Her voice drifted through the air like music. I’m told you have a phone. My cell doesn’t work on this godforsaken island and I really need to make a call. It’s kind of urgent.

Well, I have a satellite phone, but it is quite old and awkward; I’ll have to work it for you, Francine answered.

I don’t care if you have to use smoke signals; I need to get hold of my parents.

I smiled. She was quick-witted. Taking a deep breath, I silently moved to the doorway and peeked into the store.

There she was—hands on hips—the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Ebony waves cascaded over her shoulders, and her clothes, unlike any worn here on Dòchas, clung to her slender form like those from the etching of Venus in my book of nineteenth-century French poetry. I covered my mouth to stifle a gasp.

And, I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you. I have to pay two dollars and fifty cents for each minute. Sorry, lass.

Whatever it takes. I just have to make this call.

Francine led her to the phone in the corner. After turning some dials on the console and entering the number Anna recited, she handed the receiver over and walked to the counter.

Hello, Mom? She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Oh. Hi, Aunt Susan. I need to talk to Mom or Dad. She brushed her hair over one shoulder. Is Charles there, then? . . . Good, I’ll talk to him instead. Thanks. She examined her pink fingernails and tapped her foot.

Why don’t you come on out here? Francine whispered. You’ve pined for this girl for over a decade.

I had not pined for her. Pining suggested sorrow or angst. My thoughts of her were never sad. I dreamed of her. Not about being with her, just . . . of her. Who she was, what she was doing.

I stepped just inside the doorway.

Charles! she said. You’ve gotta send someone to come get me. . . . She twirled her finger in her hair while the person on the other end spoke. "I know it’s Mom and Dad’s decision, but it’s because of you and your stupid wedding. . . . That’s not true! Come on. Give me a break. The people here are nuts. . . . No, really. The old bat that runs Taibhreamh is totally out of her mind talking about evil spirits and supernatural stuff. She really believes it, too. They all do. . . . Charles. You’re not listening. None of you ever listen. I think I’m in danger. And a guy jumped me last night . . . Charles? Are you there? Hello? Dammit." She slammed the receiver back in the cradle.

Careful there, lass, Francine said. It might be old, but it’s all I have.

She turned to face us. Sorry, I just—

Her eyes locked onto mine, and the world stopped.

You, she gasped.

I didn’t jump you. My voice was barely above a whisper. I hadn’t even intended to say it out loud.

She yanked the straps of her handbag higher on her shoulder. What would you call it, then?

She was in denial, which wasn’t uncommon. I denied it myself the first time the sea tried to lure me to my death. I was keeping you safe.

Well, in keeping me safe by pouncing on me, you gave me bruises all down my back. Wanna see? She stuck her chin out in magnificent defiance and turned, lifting the bottom of her shirt. Angry, violet-tinged bruises marred the perfect alabaster skin on the small of her back. I winced at the thought I might have been responsible for the marks. Still, she would’ve been much worse than bruised had I not come along. She lifted her shirt higher still. From what I knew of her from the tabloids, she did things for shock value. This was certainly no exception, and it worked. My body reacted viscerally to the sight of her bare expanse of flesh and black lace bra.

Two could play this game. I’m bruised as well. Would you care to see?

She looked over her shoulder and lowered her eyes to the area in question, then back to my face. And then she did the most remarkable thing: she laughed. As if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud, her laughter lit my soul. That singular sound wielded far more power than any cutting remark uttered by Mrs. McAlister, and for a brilliant moment, my dreams and reality collided.

I’m sorry I frightened you last night, I said. I didn’t intend to injure you.

Sorry I racked you, she replied. "I did mean to injure you."

Anna Leighton, this is Liam MacGregor, Francine said with a wide grin. But you’ve already met.

Yes, last night was quite an introduction, Anna said, meeting my eyes directly. You should really adopt an introduce-yourself-first-then-tackle-later policy.

Francine shook her head. No. I mean before that.

Anna’s brow furrowed. I hadn’t truly expected her to remember me, but somewhere in a recess deep in my being, I’d hoped.

Princess Annabel, I said, bowing.

She took a step back. Oh, my God. You’re . . . She looked me up and down. You’re Prince Leem. Whoa. You’ve gotten . . . tall.

My heart felt too large for my chest. She remembered. Growing up usually yields that result.

And you talk funny—like somebody out of an old book.

Yes, that too. Puberty rendered me tall with peculiar speech patterns.

She laughed again, and I was in bliss. This was the Anna I’d imagined for all those years. Not the one from the tabloids, but the one who spent a summer long ago on the beach with me, chasing crabs on the rocks and building sand castles. My Anna.

Her laughter faded and silence stretched between us as we simply stared at each other. Surely, memories of childhood were swirling through her brain as well, finding their correct slot and slipping into place, reconciling past with present.

She reached into her handbag. So, how much do I owe you? she asked Francine.

Oh, nothing right now. Francine looked pleased with herself. You’ll probably be needing to use the phone again, so I’ll just keep a tab. You just come on down whenever you want.

Thanks. Her eyes met mine briefly before she lowered her gaze to the floor at my feet, as if hit by a wave of sudden shyness. Well, bye, Prince Leem.

Then she was gone, cowbell clanging in her wake, leaving behind the ghost of her laughter and the scent of fresh-cut lilies. I filled my lungs with the smell of her.

Well, what are you doing just standing there, boy? Francine said. You can’t let an opportunity like this pass you by. Get your carcass out there and walk her home or something.

* * *

Muireann had never been all the way into the humans’ harbor before. A delightful thrill shot through her body as she watched a male with red hair and a matching red beard untangle buoy lines on some lobster traps on the wooden pier.

Dad would be really angry if he knew you were here, her sister, Keela, whispered from behind, causing Muireann to flinch and reflexively duck underwater. Staring up, she noticed Keela’s head was still above water. She relaxed and allowed her body to float back up to the surface.

How did you find me? Muireann asked.

Keela rolled her eyes. It wasn’t much of a challenge. I simply followed you.

The human with the red beard whistled a lighthearted tune as he hefted a trap onto the front end of a fishing boat tethered to the pier. Another man tromped up, his heavy footsteps cutting the whistling short.

Quick, over here, Keela whispered, bumping Muireann to steal her attention away from the humans.

Muireann ducked behind a boat tied to a buoy a little farther out from the pier and peeked around to watch the humans. Why must we hide?

Because Dad says the harbor is dangerous. The boat motors can hurt us and there are too many humans in one place.

They seem harmless enough, Muireann said.

We should go back. Keela nudged her.

Fine. As Muireann reached the mouth of the harbor, she turned back for one last look. Her breath caught as a human female she’d never seen before strode down the pier on long, slender legs.

4

Just as the day dawns to the friendless and houseless beggar who roams the streets throughout the long desolate winter night—just so tardily—just so wearily—just so cheerily came back the light of the Soul to me.

—Edgar Allan Poe,

from The Premature Burial, 1844

By the time I caught up with her, Anna was halfway down the harbor pier. She didn’t appear surprised by my presence. She simply turned and smiled as if she knew I’d come. I suspected this should shame or humble me, but instead, I was emboldened. She wanted me to follow her—expected it, even.

She paused to look over the edge of the pier at a barnacle-encrusted piling. This place stinks.

Stinks literally or figuratively?

One of her perfectly arched eyebrows shot up and she studied me for a moment. Both. She resumed her stroll toward the end of the pier and I followed. How do you stand living here?

Is your question rhetorical or do you really want an answer?

She glanced at me over her shoulder. Do you have an answer?

No.

Rhetorical, then. She stopped short when a sand louse darted across the planks in front of her and slipped between the boards near the edge. Yuck.

I assume you don’t have many of those in New York City.

She stopped beside an empty boat slip and leaned against a piling. We’ve got creepy-crawly things that make that bug look like nothing. We have rats the size of small house cats.

I wanted desperately to close the distance between us but stopped well outside of arm’s reach. Sounds lovely.

She brushed aside the hair the wind had blown across her forehead and gave me a leisurely, thorough perusal from head to toe and then back up again. You grew up good, Liam. And you’re educated. There’s no school on this island, so you must have been sent out. Where did you go?

No one born here leaves. I suppose you could say I’m self-educated.

Again, the eyebrow lifted.

Liam! What the hell are you doing down here? Pa’s voice shattered the first joy I’d had in a long time as easily as if it were a piece of brittle glass. Wearing his usual flannel shirt and waders, he glared at me, fists clenched. Get back up to the store and make yourself useful.

His boat was docked in the last slot, and his fishing partner, Johnny, was loading some mended lobster traps on the deck. The storm had prevented them from going out last night, which would put Pa in an even fouler mood than usual. At least he was heading out and not coming in. Still, I wasn’t in the mood for an altercation, or a black eye for that matter. Since Ma’s death a year ago, he’d had little patience with me.

Anna caught my sleeve as

[roses7184_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Ashes on the Waves was a deliciously quick read. I was immediately drawn in by the way that Mary Lindsey manages to create such a chilling atmosphere. This story has it all. Tragic romance, Celtic lore, and the perfect amount of hope to even it all out. I loved this read from beginning to end!

Liam was born and raised on the remote island of Dochas. An accident at his birth, that resulted in the death of his mother, has surrounded him with suspicion and hatred. The villagers call him a demon, and he believes it. Liam stole my heart from the first moment I met him. He's sweet and more than a bit broken. His whole persona is just something that I gravitated to. I admit it, I have a crush on Liam MacGregor.

Then I met Annabel Leighton, and my love of this book soared even higher. The daughter of a wealthy family, Anna visited the island as a child. She grew up with Liam, and left him wistful for her company. I liked Anna's character a lot. She's impulsive, speaks her mind, and yet has a very kind heart. Paired with Liam, they are an odd, but gorgeous couple. I wasn't entirely convinced that they fell madly in love so quickly, but the Celtic lore here definitely helps push that idea. That, and the fact that these star crossed lovers have everyone against them. It's hard not to root for them.

Which brings me to what I loved most, the mix of Celtic lore and Edgar Allen Poe references that make this book so gothic! This makes the book so dark, so atmospheric, that the love between these two is really the only light. I loved that Ashes on the Waves moved so quickly, and kept me guessing at every turn. It was compelling, and I couldn't get enough.

If you enjoy tales of star-crossed lovers, broken pasts, and tenuous futures, this is a book for you. Pick up a copy of Ashes on the Waves and prepare to fall in love.

[ashleyk44 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Meh. I grabbed this out of curiosity because it's based on Annabel Lee, one of my favorite poems. I was about a 3rd of the way through when I realized I really don't care what happens, so on to better books!

[darkfaerietales_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Review courtesy of Dark Faerie Tales

Quick & Dirty: Beautiful gothic novel full of heartache, love, and destiny.

Opening Sentence: She looked like something out of a dream…or a nightmare.

The Review:

Liam MacGregor has been called a demon his whole life. The small island of Dòchas is very remote and way behind on modern day technology. The people there are superstitious and there are many legends about otherworld creatures drawing helpless humans to their deaths. Liam was not born under normal circumstances and he has been ostracized because of it. Liam has been shown very few acts of kindness in his life and he had accepted that he would never find happiness. But all that changes when the beautiful Annabel Leighton is exiled to the island by her very wealthy parents.

Anna’s parents own a mansion on the island and one summer when she was a child she played with Liam. She hasn’t been back until now, but Liam never forgot her. She is so full of life and she looks at Liam different than everyone else. It is easy for him to fall for Anna and their love seems like the forever kind. But the otherworld creatures on the island decide to play a cruel game with the sweet young couple, and as things escalate their love isn’t the only thing in danger of being destroyed.

Majority of the story is told from Liam’s POV, which I absolutely loved. Liam is a genuinely good person that has been treated awful his whole life. Instead of letting that get him down and becoming the demon everyone fears, he has turned into an amazing person with a very sweet demeanor. Loving Anna brings down some of the walls he has built around himself and he is finally able to open himself up to someone. He goes from being a shy guarded boy to a confident strong man. It was easy to feel sympathy for him and his situation, but I also respected and admired how he dealt with it.

Anna is your typical rich party girl. She grew up in New York among the high society and lives to rebel against her parents in any way possible. She went a little overboard recently and was sent to live on the island to prevent anymore scandals from surfacing until her brother gets married. She expected to despise the island but then she meets Liam. For the first time in her life she feels like she can be herself and there are no expectations of her. Anna is a beautiful girl that has been lost for a long time and it was heartwarming to watch her find herself in Liam. She is spontaneous and a little on the wild side, but she also had a heart full of gold. She was a wonderful heroine and easy to love.

Ashes on the Waves was a beautiful heartwarming story of true love and all the trials that come with it. The romance developed very quickly and normally I’m not a fan of that, but Lindsey did a wonderful job of making Anna and Liam’s relationship feel realistic. With a hauntingly gorgeous setting and a suspenseful mystery, this was an intense read that was hard to put down. I did feel that the ending was a little rushed and the plot was slightly predictable. But overall, this was a very enjoyable read and I would highly recommend it to YA paranormal fans.

Notable Scene:

“Why are you here, Anna?” I don’t know what answer I was anticipating, but it certainly wasn’t the answer she gave.

“To kiss you, of course.”

I’d never fainted in my life, but I was certain I was on the brink at that moment. “I’m sorry about that. It was wrong of me.”

She smiled. “I thought it was adorable.”

Adorable. I stood stunned in the middle of my tiny shack staring at the most beautiful girl in the world, unable to move—hardly adorable at the moment.

FTC Advisory: Philomel/Penguin provided me with a copy of Ashes on the Waves. No goody bags, sponsorships, “material connections,” or bribes were exchanged for my review.

[emmyson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

First of all, super huge thanks to Mary Lindsey and Rockstar Book Tours for providing me with an ARC for review. It's one that I've been DYING for, and when I got this chance, you better believe I jumped on it!

I can sum up my experience with this book in a few words: Gorgeous. Haunting. Breathtaking. Cruel. Hopeless. Shattering. Hopeful.

Wait, it's both hopeless AND hopeful?! How does that even work?

I'll attempt to tell you. Be warned, there might be spoilers afoot if you aren't familiar with Poe's poem, Annabel Lee.

For those of you in the know, you're well aware that Poe's poem does not have a happy ending. Annabel Lee meets her end in tomb down by the sea. It's very chilling and heartbreaking and beautiful.

Lindsey's work follows many of the same lines, but with so much more. Yes, the book stays fairly true to the poem. Yes, it's devastating. Yes, it left me feeling completely bereft and unable to process anything more than a fluffy romance novel. (All this right on the heels of Siege and Storm...probably not the best idea!)

The thing is, there is SO MUCH HOPE in this novel. It's a beautiful tribute to true love and love conquering all and being together forever. It's about overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds and coming out the other side stronger and happier, even through the worst sort of hell imaginable. It's about being yourself, even when no one likes you and has old and unfair prejudices against you.

This book took pieces of me and destroyed them. I felt like I couldn't quite be the same afterwards, except that it then took those destroyed pieces and put them back together, stronger than before. With each new challenge that Liam and Anna faced, I gained a bit more hope in the outcome, even when I knew exactly what was going to happen.

See, the thing is, I DIDN'T know what was going to happen. I know Annabel Lee very well and I know how it all ends. I knew how this book was going to end. I was prepared. Except that I wasn't. I expected to be utterly devastated by the end and lose all faith and hope in true love and think that evil was always going to win. Because that's how Poe kind of makes you feel in the whole sepulcher by the sea bit.

Mary Lindsey takes that and makes it all happen down by the sea but then she ends the book with so much brightness and hope and wonder and faith. Holy cow. I was left feeling like the happiest girl alive.

How is that even possible with a Poe retelling?!

I have no idea, but Mary Lindsey did it. Brilliantly. Beautifully.

I can recommend this book without reservation to anyone who is a fan of paranormal romance, gothic horror, retellings, or pretty much books in general. NO RESERVATIONS, people! It's a beautiful book that NEEDS to be read.

I have a gorgeous signed ARC, which I am keeping because, SIGNED, but I'm also buying a hard copy. It's worth having in duplicate.

4.5 Eiffel Towers

[worldforreading · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This novel, a modern day story based on Edgar Allen Poe's poem "Annabel Lee", did not work for me, largely due to the setting but I had other issues as well. The writing is good: Liam has a distinctly old-fashioned way of speaking influenced by both the speech patterns of his community and his classic and Romantic reading material. I enjoyed what we saw of the heroine and love interest: she has some WTF reactions I found totally understandable under the circumstances. Use of Celtic mythology is something I usually enjoy and the use of quotes taken from various works by Poe at the beginning of chapters was interesting. Ultimately however the novel as a whole fell flat.
I normally try to suspend my disbelief and accept the world as presented by the author, but this book tested my limits. Though the story is set in the present day our hero and narrator, Liam, lives on a time capsule of an island. The lack of electricity and other modern amenities such as gas and medicine make the modern day setting seem more 19th century. I'm at a loss as to whether this island off the coast of Maine is part of the U.S., Canada, or is a country unto itself. This last choice seems to be the most likely, as this would explain the lack of any government or infrastucture. People seem be lured to their deaths every night, but no one ever feels that maybe they should move somewhere with a lower mortality rate. No one ever investigates these deaths and the only law is enforced at the hands of an angry mob. The primary link to the outside world comes from the convenience store where Liam works: gossip magazines are in stock, the number one choice of reading material for all superstitious lobster fisherman I'm sure. Hey, no judgement.
The setting's absurdities aside, the relationship driving the narrative is as shallow a case of insta-love as I've ever read. Attraction on Liam's part makes sense: he and Anna were childhood friends and she was one of two people to ever treat him like a human being. Anna's attraction also makes sense: she wants to escape her socialite life and Liam is allegedly super hot. It's when after a couple of days this attraction is declared an eternal soul bond kind of love that my eyes roll straight out of my head and down the road. Also Liam's psychological damage as a result of being treated like a demon his whole life is magically cured by Anna telling him that's nonsense. It is, but that does not make his magnanimously forgiving the various characters for their treatment of him any more emotionally realistic. Liam's infatuation also makes for tedious reading: it's like going to dinner with a friend who's in a new relationship and talks about it constantly. I'm happy for you but it's been three hours, can we talk about something else? Like how to stop the constant drownings?
Speaking of the drownings, the villains of the story leave a lot to be desired. Poe's stories tend to be about human evil, his poems about the consuming nature of grief. Gothic novels tend to have an element of mysteriousness that make them effective. The supernatural creatures driving the plot of this novel sit around gossiping and making bets like it's happy hour at the bar. Some secrets from the past come out, but are ultimately unsatisfying and there is a literal deus ex machina.
Recommended for: People who can suspend disbelief regarding the setting, people who find Romeo and Juliet romantic, people who love the poem "Annabel Lee".

[jennrenae · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Ashes on the Waves by Mary Lindsey
ARC received from Penguin
On Shelves Now
Reviewed by : Middle Sis Jenn
The Sisters Say: Gut-wrenching and unique; a tale of blissful woe and beautiful agony

I was sold on this book the moment I saw that it was a modernization of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem, Annabel Lee. I love Poe’s dark nature, and I definitely saw whispers of his inner demons in Mary Lindsey’s rewrite. Lindsey’s world was dark and gritty, full of open deceit and hatred. Lindsey created a terrifying story set in our world, but not of our world; where ancient beliefs and discrimination hold sway over the balance of life and death.

I love the new wave of gothic romances that are sweeping the YA shelves this summer. This is by far my favorite sub-genre of YA, and I will read any others in this area with open arms. I love the poetic writing that brings these ominous worlds to life; and there is a part of me that embraces that fact that good does not always win over evil. It’s more truthful and in a way, makes the books all the more poignant. I praise Mary Lindsey for her willingness to delve into the deep recesses of human nature, bringing to light that death is what makes life worth living.

My favorite part of this story was the setting—which seems to be what I love the most in the gothic genre. Ashes takes place on a secluded island that, although present day, lives like it’s the 1800s. There is new electricity or plumbing on most of the island, and the citizens have created a Lord of the Flies type of existence. Murder and deceit are not punished as civilized society would have it, instead, lynchings and other atrocities are accepted. The island was frustrating and eerie, but the perfect place for a tragic love story.

I did have some sort of trouble with what seemed like insta-love. I say “seemed like” because Liam and Anna knew each other when they were kids, so it wasn’t like it was love at first sight. But I did feel like they fell so quickly, but I guess that keeps with the poem, so it was appropriate.

Liam was unlike most of the guys in YA literature, which was refreshing, although he didn’t blow me away. He is soft-spoken, kind and gentle, and extremely shy. Again, this keeps with the 1800s feel of the setting, though as the relationship between him and Anna is more like an old-days courtship than a modern romance. Their love was true and you could see that in the selfless acts they committed, but I wish there was more passion along the way. It seemed too tame for me, and not tame in the sexual sense. I mean, tame as in, very few passionate embraces and kisses were actually described. It was more like her kiss blew me away and that was it. I wanted to feel the emotion in the act.

I liked Anna, although again, I felt like she needed more emotion. She is broken like Liam, only in a completely different way. They come from two different worlds, but their desperation to be acknowledged brought them together. I liked that Anna didn’t back down from a fight, even when it was the entire town against her.

Overall, this was a great tragic romance with very few flaws. Mary Lindsey created a story of star-crossed lovers that will rival even the greatest of loves, and stand up to the darkest of fates.

[usagijihen · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

4.5/5 stars!

How much do I love this book? It was everything I was hoping for and more. Poe's "Annabel Lee" is one of my favorite of his works, and you can imagine I was super excited to see a YA book based on that extremely sad, grim poem. And Mary Lindsey did him proud with "Ashes on the Waves", a book full of ghosts, monsters, mobs, and the question: what makes us human? I absolutely adored "Ashes on the Waves", and I hope you do too.

The first thing that really struck me about "Ashes on the Waves" was the immediate sense of the world. From the jump, we have this immediate sense of what the island of Dochas feels like - a place thrown back in time compared to our current society, complete with the creepy mob-like villagers that think that because our MC has partial paralysis, that he's a "demon" waiting to happen. Everyone but his employer, Francine, is cruel to him, and because of it, Liam is the ultimate sympathetic protagonist. I really liked that he was made that much "the other" for others to target, as the island itself is pretty "other" with all of its strange happenings, as we see later on in the book. I found it interesting that Lindsey decided to make Liam the Other, and not Anna, the rich New Yorker, whose family has owned property on Dochas for the last 150+ years. It was a good choice, and it set up everything that happened next really well.

Then there are the characters (aside from Liam and Anna) - they also really contribute to this very thrown-back world where the Otherworlders are revered with the utmost respect to the point of absurdity, as Anna sees it. And then there are the Otherworlders themselves - the Bean Sidhes, the Selkies (I LOVE THAT THESE GUYS WERE INCLUDED YES!), and the Na Fir Ghorm - which make this tale totally larger than life. Though they don't get heavily involved until the second third of the book onward, just the impression of their existence constantly pressing in on the island and its inhabitants creates a delicious tension between this human world, forever stopped in time, and the next world, where monsters and gods all try to coexist yet try to tempt the humans (or save them), reminding them of humanity's up-until-recent eternal coexistence with them. Reminding of what's been lost with technology and advancement, and also reminding them of what could happen to them if they don't listen to the Otherworlders.

I do feel like Anna's character could have been a bit better built and voiced, but since this is mostly Liam's story, what we did get was more than sufficient to go on. I also love how the myth of the Selkie was woven so completely into Liam and Anna's story. It's honestly one of my favorite myths, period, and I love how all around the world, there are varying bits of the myth but its heart (if the creature's pelt/cloak/feathers/etc gets taken, she becomes earthbound) is the same. I feel like Lindsey really used the Selkie myth to its utmost to contribute to the trials that the Otherworlders force Anna and Liam to go through. Out of all of the Otherworlders mentioned, the Selkies get explored the most, and I just loved that.

Now, for something really important considering that this is narrated by a guy - cross-gender narration. Lindsey absolutely does a convincing job with Liam as a real boy - he sounds like a real boy, even though he's a bit antiquified with how he's had to grow up, where he's grown up, and the education (or lack there of, compared to our current system). Nonetheless, it feels like a boy talking - even if he sounds like an early 20th century boy. Liam feels 100% authentic to his gender, and I've talked before on how hard it is to get cross-gender narration correct, but Lindsey knocked it out of the park here. I can't tell you how happy that, as a reader, makes me.

Finally, the ending - and what an ending. True to Poe's poem, this is not a HEA, but Lindsey puts her own spin on it. I can honestly say that some of the Big Reveals that led up to the end, I really didn't see those coming at all. I love it when an author can do that, and Lindsey does that here so very well. So while this definitely isn't a HEA in the traditional sense, there is a sense of closure by the end that won't leave you feeling too down.

The rest? Flawless, more or less, in the technical departments, and absolutely gorgeous.

Final verdict? If you're a fan of the Gothic genre and you love retellings, you simply MUST read this book. And even if you're not, I urge you to give it a try anyway. "Ashes on the Waves" is out June 27, 2013 from Penguin in North America, so be sure to check it out then! Definitely one of my favorites of 2013 so far.

(posted to goodreads, shelfari, librarything, and birthofanewwitch.wordpress.com)