THE HOLLOW MOON. Philip Anderson

Some inheritances arrive in a will. Others arrive in the fog. When EMT Wren Ashworth returns to Blackhollow to bury the grandmother she barely knew, she expects a closed casket, an empty funeral home, and a quiet week settling an estate before she drives back to the life she built two hundred miles away. What she finds instead is a locked cedar chest full of journals, a best friend who flinches at her own reflection, and a fog that moves like something is breathing underneath it. For four generations, the Ashworth women have held a secret so old the town itself has stopped asking questions about it: a binding, passed mother to daughter, that keeps two immortal bloodlines, the ancient, aristocratic Vaskos and the cursed, shapeshifting Colters, from finally tearing the valley apart.
Wren never knew the truth. She never asked to inherit it. And now that her grandmother is gone, she has weeks, maybe days, to decide whether to take up a burden that has aged every woman in her family twice as fast as it should, or let two centuries of leashed hunger finally break loose on a night the valley calls the hollow moon. But the deeper Wren digs into her family's buried history, the clearer it becomes that the feud was never the real danger.
Something older than both bloodlines has been patiently waiting under Blackhollow since long before the first Ashworth ever arrived to hold the door shut, and it is done being managed. It wants to be seen. And Wren is the only one left standing between the valley and the reckoning it has been owed for two hundred years. Atmospheric, unrelenting, and soaked in fog thick enough to hide teeth, THE HOLLOW MOON is a spine-chilling descent into inherited fear, forbidden alliances, and the terrible cost of finally telling the truth.
Perfect for readers who love their horror slow-burning, their monsters tragic, and their heroines braver than they believe themselves to be. The fog is patient. It has waited two hundred years. It can wait for you too.