Inked in Blood and Memory
Allison Ivy
Publication date: December 3rd 2024
Genres: Horror, LGBTQ+, New Adult

Recluse Sophie Vanguard’s winter cabin retreat turns ominous when blue flowers mysteriously appear. They’re everywhere. On her front porch, in kitchen cabinets, and even on her pillow. It isn’t long before chilling whispers echo in the halls, and her journal repeats seven unsettling entries.

Enter the bloodied and beautifully eccentric Ly Thi Ren. Though Ren seems familiar, Sophie refuses to believe the girl’s insistence that they are trapped inside a book.

In a land of fiction, truth and lies blur together, clear decisions are marred by doubt, and shared family trauma lurks just below the surface.

Can Ren and Sophie make it out alive? Or will they end up nothing more than words inked in blood and memory?

With elements of gothic horror, splatterpunk, romance, and fantasy, Inked in Blood and Memory is a self-aware LGBTQ+ horror that wraps its clutches around the reader and doesn’t let go.

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EXCERPT:

You never forget your first ritual sacrifice. So why had I? That seems like something you’d remember. It’s not something most American families gather for.

Hey, Má. Could you pass the rau răm? Oh, and what time is the sacrifice tonight?

And yet, I had forgotten. I had forgotten the little things, too. My mother’s laugh, her abrupt chortles that often devolved into giggles. My childhood nickname.

We eat pho the night our own parents sacrifice one of my best friends. It’s weird what sticks with you after years of trying to forget. We eat in silence, though I haven’t yet realized the reason for the solemn mood. My nine-year-old brain doesn’t quite grasp the idea of “sacrifice.” I can’t wait to wear my new ceremonial cloak. I begged my parents to let me wear it through dinner, but they refused.

“It’s too special,” they say. “You don’t want to ruin it, do you, con gái?”

No, I don’t want that. Still, my eyes wander to the piece of clothing that hangs on the coat tree next to the front door. The intricate symbols fascinate me. The only other place I’ve seen them is on the book. Not just any book. The book.

I get to see it on special occasions during the four months out of the year our family guards it. The other eight months are split between two additional families. My best friends’, Sophie Vanguard and Jeremy Berg-Nilsen.

We’ll join them later for the ceremony or the “thanksgiving,” but not that Thanksgiving. We are not pilgrims, but our three families are special. Chosen. And today, Jeremy is the most special.

“Ông xã, are you sure this is the only way?” Má squeezes Ba’s arm.

Ba remains quiet for so long I almost ask him if he’s heard Má. I’m not sure what she means by her question or why it’s gotten even quieter than before.

Ba answers before I speak. “It’s too late to back out. Maybe we could have years ago, but not now. This is how we keep our family safe.” He kisses my mother’s hand and stands to clear the plates.

I knit my brows together. Why are they so serious? It’s like they’re sad. But it’s the day of the thanksgiving. They should be happy.

Later that night, I beam proudly in my cloak with the strange symbols, relishing the feel of the velvet hem between my fingertips. Incense burns in a corner, permeating the air with a smoky aroma that I’ve always hated, but it reminds me of the days we celebrate the four equinoxes.

The adults hug and talk amongst themselves excitedly. All but Mrs. Berg-Nilsen, Jeremy’s mom. She stands against the wall, keeping to herself. Her long blonde hair covers most of her face, but I can tell her cheeks are wet.

I ponder this as I sit cross-legged on the antique rug with Jeremy in his family’s living room. We sip Capri-Suns and talk about what we think will happen in a few minutes.

“Happy birthday, Jeremy,” Sophie says after arriving with her parents and barreling through the adults’ legs. She holds a cloak that matches mine out behind her as she runs like she’s a superhero or a bat and plops down on the rug between us.

“Thanks, Sophie,” Jeremy mumbles, staring at his Capri-Sun.

Of the three of us, Sophie is the most frenetic. I think that’s the word Ba used. The adults are always hiding the sugar from her. She channels her chaotic energy for good most of the time. At school this past week, a couple kids from our grade cornered Jeremy. Sophie took me by the hand and came to Jeremy’s aid, not letting up until the kids backed off.

“Why is your mom crying?” I ask Jeremy.

His eyes move from his drink to his shoes, and he tugs at the laces. “Dad says she’s happy, but she won’t look at me.”

“Grownups are weird,” I say, watching Jeremy’s parents lead the rest into the kitchen.

“I think I did something real bad,” Jeremy says.

The door swings closed, and I’m on my feet, ignoring Sophie’s questions and drawn to the conversation happening behind the closed door.

Author Bio:

Allison Ivy writes under a pen name and grew up reading a book a day. She graduated from Penn State with a B.A. in English and a Creative Writing certificate. She currently lives in Connecticut and listens to far too many show tunes and DVD commentaries. The Dragon and the Double-Edged Sword is her first novel.

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