Imaginative, beautifully-presented and supremely readable. -- Words First
Perhaps some ghost of me still hovers over that puff of a bed... it's not just dead people who have ghosts. -- Book Trust, Scotland
The call of distant wolves plays tricks with Ellie's emotions as she is drawn into a world where past and present merge. Gripping. -- The Daily Telegraph
This gripping novel touches on teenage romance, dark familiar secrets, obsession, lycanthropy and dominance from beyond the grave. Teasingly atmospheric. -- Reading Time vol38 no2
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
And he's being done for whatever the French call Drug Offences. Bet Martine's pleased. She never did like him.
I break off a finger of chocolate biscuit. Mum offered me those two pearls of information before we both left and I haven't had time to digest them yet.
I don't feel much; why should I? I only met her once. The coffee in the paper cup scalds my tongue. And him? I suppose you could say that was inevitable. So what? I look round the canteen for some light distraction, but all my friends are somewhere else.
I pick a guy at random. The shape of his head intrigues me, but the hair confuses things. He shifts slightly, revealing a smooth cheek line, no features visible - frustrating. I will him to turn and offer me more, but he doesn't respond. The same type? Could be...
I know it's just a game. I'm not looking for anyone - I don't need to now. But strangers do fascinate me; always have. People on the bus, people in the street - they're so virgin. I wonder about them, make things up. Must get that from my dad.
The snow glow from roofs and windowsills shows up brownish stains on the plastic table top and a feather of ash from someone's cigarette. I watch my screwed-up biscuit wrapper slowly expand against a curl of peel in the undersized ashtray.
Then I go back to the guy - well there's nothing else to do. I grin - my eyes must be making little holes in the back of his head by now.
I think: suppose he turned round and there wasn't any face - just some smooth, featureless egg-thing?
Supposing he's fat and jowly?
What if he and I were the last ones left on earth so we had to do it?
What if he really turned out to be an Alain lookalike? I shiver... daren't answer that one.