Hark! The Herald Angels Scream

Genres: Occult & Supernatural; Anthologies; Horror

Synopsis

Eighteen stories of Christmas horror from bestselling, acclaimed authors including Scott Smith, Seanan McGuire, Josh Malerman, Michael Koryta, Sarah Pinborough, and many more.

That there is darkness at the heart of the Yuletide season should not surprise. Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol is filled with scenes that are unsettling. Marley untying the bandage that holds his jaws together. The hideous children--Want and Ignorance--beneath the robe of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The heavy ledgers Marley drags by his chains. In the finest versions of this story, the best parts are the terrifying parts.
Bestselling author and editor Christopher Golden shares his love for Christmas horror stories with this anthology of all-new short fiction from some of the most talented and original writers of horror today.

Release date: October 23, 2018

Publisher: Anchor

Print pages: 320

Reader says this book is...: action-packed (1) classic themes (1) creative magic (1) dark (1) emotionally riveting (1) entertaining story (1) epic storytelling (1) escapist/easy read (1) funny (1) haunting (1) imaginative (1) plot twists (1) realistic characters (1) rich setting(s) (1) satisfying ending (1) scary (1) spine-tingling (1) supernatural elements (1) suspenseful (1) tense (1) terrific writing (1) thought-provoking (1) tragic (1) twists & turns (1) unexpected twists (1) unputdownable (1) witty (1)

Sample

ABSINTHE & ANGELS

KELLEY ARMSTRONG

“A proper reading of Dickens requires absinthe,” Michael says as he lifts his glass. “The nectar of the muses.”

Ava shakes her head. “There’s no way anyone could drink this and still write.”

“All those old writers did. How do you think they penned prose like this?” He lifts the book and reads a few lines from the arrival of the first ghost. “Trust me. That required chemical intervention.”

“Just tell me our Christmas tree isn’t actually on fire,” she says.

He chuckles. “Nope, just your brain.” He refills her glass. “Unless the tree really is on fire, and I’m hallucinating that it’s not.”

She tugs out her gifts, saying, “Just in case,” and he laughs and kisses her cheek before he resumes reading.

The absinthe isn’t actually so bad. It makes things clearer, sharper…and occasionally weirder. Nothing wrong with a little head tripping for the holidays.

Ava takes another sip and rolls onto her side to watch Michael read A Christmas Carol. Her favorite holiday story, proving perhaps that she does indeed enjoy the weird. But right now, the words float past, and she just watches him as she basks in the warmth of the fire and the gift he’s given her.

Whatever is in the boxes under the tree, they aren’t her real presents. This is. Her perfect holiday getaway.

Start with a cabin in the snow. It can’t be some resort-property cottage, either. Out here, their nearest neighbor is a mile away. They’re even far enough from the road that they’d never have made it without four-wheel drive.

No neighbors. No Wi-Fi. No cell service. Just peace and quiet.

The isolation is Michael’s way of making this holiday season easier on her. As a child, Ava had wonderful family Christmases. Even after Dad took off, Mom held it together, especially at the holidays. Now Mom’s gone, stolen by cancer two months ago, and Ava’s brother, Jory, called last month to say he wouldn’t be flying home for Christmas.

So Michael gave her this—a quiet cabin ten miles from the ski chalet where their friends are staying.

It’s Christmas Eve; snow is falling; the fire’s blazing; absinthe is making her head spin, and her fiancé is reading A Christmas Carol.

It doesn’t get better than that.

Ava looks out the window. As snow swirls through the darkness, she envisions a moonlight stroll through the woods, the perfect cap for their evening. Maybe even more than a stroll, if it isn’t too cold.

She smiles at the thought and sips her drink and watches the dancing snow and imagines endless evergreens laced in white. Their own private winter wonderland. When Michael pauses to turn the page, she thinks she hears…music? Singing?

Oh, angels we have heard on high…

Angels or absinthe, singing through her veins.

Michael raises his voice to play the part of Scrooge and then lowers it for—

A sharp rap sounds, and Ava jumps, absinthe spilling. Michael frowns at the cabin door.