Author Sarah Strohmeyer

A Mother Always Knows

Coming July 1st

The beloved, award-winning author of Do I Know You? and We Love To Entertain returns with an electrifying novel of psychological suspense that explores the way our pasts shape our futures in so many unexpected ways.

Stella O’Neill is just your average millennial, working at a public library and worrying about making rent. No one would suspect she’s been living under an assumed name or that she was raised in a Vermont commune of “diviners” where, and as a ten-year-old, she witnessed her mother’s brutal murder—a crime that has gone unsolved for years.

But her quiet, anonymous existence is upended when a true-crime obsessive posts her current name and location on the internet. Now, Stella has to get out of Boston before her mother’s killer can find her and finish the job he started all those years ago. Fed up with living in fear, she heads to the off-the-grid retreat of her childhood to confront her mother’s unhinged guru who controlled their lives for so long–the infamous Radcliffe MacBeath.

Stella has two powerful assets: determination and a supernatural gift. Relying on her mother’s beloved rose quartz pendulum, Stella will have to outwit the charismatic leader who’s ruined so many lives and discover once and for all the true identity of her mother’s killer—before becoming his next victim.

Prologue

Saturday, June 21, 2003

What haunts her still is the howl—a wild, animalistic cry of pain more piercing than a catamount’s bone-chilling scream. Instinctively, she knew it came from her mother, and she was scared. She did not like the woods when it was dark, and as a young child she was petrified of being alone. To this day, she’s still afraid to be by herself, the horror of what unfolded that night having scarred her forever.

***

“Did Ellen give you a special tea?” her mother asked before heading into the deeper part of the forest. “Did the tea make you sleepy?”

Astraea feared Mean Ellen might kidnap her again and put her in the scary room if she tattled. So she didn’t reply.

Mama mumbled a naughty word and stroked her daughter’s wispy hair. “It’s all right, sweetie. You can stay here while I go find the turtle.”

A bad thing had happened at the turtle earlier. Astraea rubbed her bare ankles to erase the creepy sensation of tentacles gripping her feet, pulling her into the earth below. She shouldn’t have gone into the woods barefoot. If she’d been a good girl and obeyed the rules, Mama wouldn’t have been upset and they wouldn’t have had to come here right away.

This was all her fault.

Terrified to be alone, Astraea clutched her mother’s legs. “Please don’t leave me,” she begged with a whimper.

“Don’t worry. This won’t take long. I’ll be right back.”

“No!” Astraea squeezed harder. She and her mother were a team. Mama said so. They were each other’s world and no power could keep them apart. Why couldn’t they just go home? Why couldn’t she show Mama the spot by the turtle tomorrow?

Mama pushed back her hood and unclasped her necklace. Prying off her daughter’s grip, she pressed the smooth stone into Astraea’s palm and sealed it with a kiss. “Keep this safe for me until I return. But you must stay where you are. If you wander off, I won’t be able to find you and you will be lost.”

Astraea was delighted and amazed. This was Mama’s pendulum. It was magic. She let Astraea play with it on very rare occasions. Mama would never leave her pendulum. She’d definitely be coming back.

Her mother vanished silently down the path, and in her black robe she soon became indistinguishable from the trees. Astraea tried to focus on where she went, but she was so tired, so very, very tired from Ellen’s tea. She found it impossible to keep her eyes open, and soon the revelers’ whoops and chants in the distance lulled her to sleep under the honeysuckle. Grown-ups were gathered around the commune bonfire to celebrate the summer solstice, the mystical night when sprites and fairies and even gods disguised themselves as humans to join in the festivities.

The howl jolted her awake. Startled and confused, Astraea stayed put as she’d been instructed. But what if her mother was hurt? Surely, if Mama were in serious trouble she would want Astraea to find her. Yes, she was scared, but she was also brave. Mama told her so over and over.

Draping the pendulum around her neck, she zipped up her windbreaker and followed the path, barely visible under the quarter moon. If only her mother had dropped white pebbles like Hansel and Gretel to show her the way. Not breadcrumbs, though. The birds would eat those.

“Mama!” she called into the vast darkness. “Mama, are you okay?”

Silence. Astraea stopped and cocked her ears, her own anxious breathing louder than the babble of the stream up ahead. Perhaps her mother couldn’t hear. Perhaps she needed to yell louder.

“Mama!”

Again, nothing. Astraea began to quake slightly. Her mother had said she’d be back. She’d promised. She’d given her the pendulum for safe keeping. Why wasn’t she answering?

Blinded by stinging tears, Astraea stumbled forward, her feet catching on rocks and roots and tangled vines until she reached the stream. There, face down, was her mother with her arms splayed. She must have been thirsty, tried to take a drink of water and fallen.

“Mama?”

Still no response.

Astraea stepped closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t stay where you told me to stay, but I heard a noise and . . ..”

Something was wrong.

Her mother wasn’t moving, and that was not good. If she stayed face down in the water like this, she would drown. Astraea tried to roll her over, but when she placed her small hands on her mother’s shoulder, she found the silky robe was sticky and wet. Then she saw a deep part in her mother’s hair, as white as Hansel and Gretel’s pebbles. Her skull was split open like a coconut.

Astraea let out a shriek and then got a hold of herself. She had to be brave, and brave girls were strong and thoughtful, not crybabies. Maybe Mama couldn’t talk because she’d taken a hard fall and the wind had been knocked out of her. That’d That had happened to Astraea once while tree climbing, and she turned out to be okay. Mama would be fine after her head wound was bandaged.

She didn’t hear the crunch of footsteps until it was too late. A figure, robed like her mother, but taller and with a pair of long, twisted antlers, loomed above. Astraea’s heart leaped into her throat.

Cernunnos, divine protector of the forest and the god of death. Dagda had read her a story about this god who died every summer solstice only to be reborn every winter, on the longest night of the year. Was it really him in the flesh?

“Don’t be afraid.” Leaning down, the magnificent creature gathered the little girl in his strong arms and, humming the soothing tune he sings to the dying, carried her up the mountain.

“Say nothing about what you saw tonight,” he said after laying hersitting her against the hard, cold wall of a  on the hard, cold floor of a cave. “This is our secret. And we all know what happens to little girls who tattle, right?”

Astraea nodded fiercely and, too petrified to speak, watched him descend through the forested hill until he disappeared, leaving her in the state she feared more than witches or Mean Ellen or even Cernunnos:

Alone.

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