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By Micol Ostow

Here is a home of break and rage, of dying and deliverance.
Here is the place I reside, now not living.
Here is often mine.

When Connor's family members strikes to Amity, a secluded condo at the peaceable banks of recent England's harmony River, his nights are plagued with gore-filled goals of demons. destruction, and revenge. goals he form of likes. desires he can make genuine, with Amity's help.

Ten years later, Gwen's relations strikes to Amity for a clean begin. in its place, she's haunted by means of lurid visions, aggravating voices, and questions on her personal sanity. yet along with her historical past, who could ever think her? And what should be performed in the event that they did?

Because Amity is not just a home. She is a dwelling strength, bent on manipulating her population to her twisted will. she's going to use Connor and Gwen to result in a violent finish as she's performed sooner than. As she'll do back. And back. And again.

Inspired via a true-crime tale, Amity spans generations to weave an overlapping, interconnected story of terror, madness, possibility, and death.

Praise for AMITY:
"Calling to brain that Stephen King feeling, Ostow brings the main frightening condo on this planet to lifestyles with chilling intimacy." —Danielle Paige, New York Times best-selling writer of Dorothy needs to Die

“Heart-stopping and chilling—Amity will hang-out you lengthy after the final page.” —Kami Garcia, #1 New York Times best-selling author Unbreakable & coauthor of Beautiful Creatures 

"With Amity, Micol Ostow reawakens previous horrors for a brand new new release. a daunting story spun with magic and genuine chills. hugely recommended." —Jonathan Maberry, New York Times best-selling writer of Rot & Ruin and V-Wars.

"There is horror, after which there's the very specific horror of a Micol Ostow novel. . . . The permeable limitations among from time to time, residing and lifeless, brain and global are transcended in Amity, a story that's as darkly appealing because it is flat-out terrifying." —Adele Griffin, two-time nationwide publication Award Finalist and writer of The Unfinished lifetime of Addison Stone.

"This is a e-book that gave me genuine nightmares I nonetheless cannot shake. informed in deft, haunting language and jam-packed with stressful heart-pounding moments of precise horror, Amity is Micol Ostow at her chilling, terrifying best." —Nova Ren Suma, writer of Imaginary Girls and 17 & Gone

"The top horror is like staring into the face of a bad lunatic god, a gaze that's instantly so remarkable and insistent, you can't glance away whether you must. no matter if you know you are beginning to cross somewhat crazy. Amity is all that—insidious, darkly malevolent, infectious. a very good insanity, indeed." —Ilsa J. Bick, writer of the Ashes trilogy and White Space

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RO PAUSED on the door to the stitching room. i attempted to not ask yourself why, collecting bravado and pushing previous her, into the room. I moved—one foot, then the other—and then i used to be absolutely inside of, simply previous the edge. I felt a surge, a twinge of whatever energetic and electrical, as I stepped in. The air round me looked as if it would shimmer. Then I heard the humming. “Gwen? ” Ro’s voice wobbled, and while I pivoted to appear again at her, her eyes have been extensive and brilliant, her dermis a lifeless, ashy coloration, runny and clammy like anything delicate ignored for too lengthy within the solar. “Aren’t you coming in? ” I requested. The humming used to be louder now, extra insistent. I brushed a hand at my ear to no impact. The hum swelled, virtually soothing me, lulling me. “Gwen …,” Ro acknowledged, her voice watery, not like something I’d ever heard from her lips prior to. “Gwen, i feel you want to pop out of there. ” “There’s a stunning view of the river from the window,” I insisted, at the same time the humming deepened, twisted, thickened. I moved towards it, waving to her. Why did it look so important, so the most important, that Aunt Ro come within with me? So pressing that she view the harmony River via Amity’s home windows, via her heavy-framed eyes? The humming used to be loud as ever through now, and that i felt the glint of tiny beats, tiny bristles opposed to my face. “Gwen,” Ro repeated. She appeared to be nearly shrieking, her face stretched right into a demise masks, rubbery with worry. “Come again out of the room. Now. ” I squinted. “What’s incorrect? ” She appeared ill, however it nonetheless wasn’t adequate to maneuver me—to get rid of me—from the room. And have been those … wings I felt fluttering at my cheeks? The buzzing, the thrill, was once deafening now, Ro’s eyes large and wild. I teetered, blinking. The sound, the sensation … everything looked to be multiplying, threatening to fill my nostril, my mouth, my ears … but I welcomed it. Then Aunt Ro’s hand clamped round my wrist, viselike, tugging at me. i may virtually consider the vacuum-sealed air pop open like a black gap that had without warning been uncorked. I opened my mouth broad, to protest, and felt the swarm of insects—hornets? bees? horseflies? —rush within, choking me off, stifling my cries. Aunt Ro’s grip tightened, and that i used to be (falling falling falling) buzzing from the interior now, from inside of and from underneath, from my mystery, hidden center. after which the humming silenced, and darkness got here down. “IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY experience. ” I opened my eyes to the sight of thick, rough-hewn beams overhead—the lounge ceiling, if now not unique to Amity’s building, then at the least a number of centuries previous. a minimum of. i used to be at the couch, stretched on my again, what felt like a pillow propped underneath my head and smelling vaguely of mold. I swallowed and felt a tightness in my throat, uncooked and scratchy, and recalled the humming of the stitching room, that silent scream, the patter of wings and the creeping cloud of darkness that swarmed round me prior to blackness got here in complete. My mother’s voice, a bit of muffled. That used to be what i used to be listening to. It was once coming from the kitchen. “I’m sorry approximately the … were they flies?

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