"These characters are quite impeccably written with so much detail into their personalities and their backgrounds. These are normal teenagers, but then again, no they aren't.
A well written dynamic read that will have you telling all of your friends about it. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS BOOK!" - Kathy, Goodreads
Release Date: October 2nd, 2018
A high school “American Psycho.”
SOME TRUTHS ARE BETTER KEPT SECRET.
SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.
Along the banks of the Bogue Falaya River, sits the abandoned St. Francis Seminary. Beneath a canopy of oaks, blocked from prying eyes, the teens of St. Benedict High gather here on Fridays. The rest of the week belongs to school and family—but weekends belong to the river.
And the river belongs to Beau Devereaux.
The only child of a powerful family, Beau can do no wrong. Handsome. Charming. Intelligent. The star quarterback of the football team. The “prince” of St. Benedict is the ultimate catch.
He is also a psychopath.
A dirty family secret buried for years, Beau’s evil grows unchecked. In the shadows of the ruined St. Francis Abbey, he commits unspeakable acts on his victims and ensures their silence with threats and intimidation. Senior year, Beau sets his sights on his girlfriend’s headstrong twin sister, Leslie, who hates him. Everything he wants but cannot have, she will be his ultimate prize.
As the victim toll mounts, it becomes crystal clear that someone has to stop Beau Devereaux.
And that someone will pay with their life.
EXCERPT
Leslie clung to him, wishing they were outside. “What is
this place?”
“The cells.” Derek kept his voice low.
She squeezed his bicep. “I’ve never been inside The Abbey.”
Leslie peered into the dim, cavernous corridor ahead, with only patches of
light coming through the thick stone walls. “I wish we hadn’t come.”
“It will be fine, I promise.” He patted her hand. “Nothing
will hurt you. I won’t let it.”
They crept along, their feet hitting sticks and fallen pieces
of plaster from the crumbling walls around them. Puddles of water dotted the
uneven stone floor and dampened Leslie’s tennis shoes. Mounds of dead leaves
lay swept to the side. The low ceiling had roots coming through it, and the
walls were cold and slimy to the touch. Derek shined his flashlight into the
first room on the left. It was a depressingly small space composed of four
walls and no windows.
It reminded Leslie of a jail cell rather than a place where
a person would choose to live.
Scraps of paper littered the ground of the next cell they
came across; another had a rusty metal frame of a bed. Several of the rooms had
cracks in their plaster ceilings along with patches of mold. When they stumbled
on a few rat skeletons, Leslie turned her head into Derek’s shoulder.
At the end of the passageway, sunlight snuck through a break
in the wall. The intrusion of light was a welcome sight and Leslie’s fear
abated. The jagged opening allowed green leaves from the plants outside to
reach in, and a few creeping vines jutted up toward the ceiling. Along the
floor, a thick pile of dead leaves hid the lower part of the opening.
“There was a cave-in along the wall here.” Derek brushed the
leaves aside, revealing a fairly large breach able to accommodate one person at
a time. “The other cells past this point are too dangerous to explore. We can
get out here and avoid going back through The Abbey.”
Derek turned off his flashlight and handed it to her. He
pushed the leaves back, pulled the vines down, and kicked the debris at the
bottom away, trying to clear the opening.
While he worked, a glimmering light from inside one of the
cells farther down the corridor distracted her. She flipped on the flashlight
and angled it into the tight quarters beyond the cave-in.
The walls in this portion of the cells had deeper cracks
than the rest of the structure. The fissures ran along the entire ceiling and
down to the floors. Patches of black mold were everywhere. What struck her as
odd was the lack of debris. It appeared as if it had been freshly swept without
any leaves or rat skeletons littering the ground.
Derek came up behind her. “What are you doing?”
Leslie headed toward the room where she’d spotted the
strange light. “I saw something.”
The smell of rot and mold filled her nose. Her skin brushed
against the slimy walls, and she cringed. But something compelled her to keep
going into the section Derek had deemed too dangerous to explore.
“Leslie, stop.”
Naturally, she ignored him and pressed on, testing the floor
with the toe of her shoe as she carefully progressed. Her heartbeat kicked up a
notch, but this time a tingling sensation of excitement went with it. She felt
like Indiana Jones exploring a lost tomb and waiting for a booby trap to jump
out at her.
Her beam of light filtered into the room, and her heart
crept higher in her throat. She rounded the edge of the wall and halted.
The cell was small without any windows, but this room
appeared lived in. Along the far wall, below a pair of rusted pipes where a
sink had once been, a green cot—army issue—had a pillow and green blanket
neatly stacked on top. At the foot of the cot was a blue ice chest; on top of
it, an assortment of red and white candles.
Leslie went up to the cot and caressed the blanket and
pillows. Her foot tapped something beneath. She bent down and discovered an old
CD player.
What’s this?
Footfalls came from behind her. She swerved the flashlight
around to Derek, fuming.
“Did you do this?”
“Do what?” He shielded his eyes from the light and stepped
inside.
She wanted to believe he had no idea any of this was here,
but her suspicions couldn’t be silenced. The whole scenario seemed so
well-planned.
“What the hell?” Derek came up to the cot and lifted the
pillow.
She stood back, studying his reaction as he browsed the
contents of the room. “I thought you said this portion was dangerous.”
“It is.”
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About the authors:
Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.
He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.
Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.
One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Alexandrea Weis is an advanced practice registered nurse who was born and raised in New Orleans. Having been brought up in the motion picture industry, she learned to tell stories from a different perspective and began writing at the age of eight. Infusing the rich tapestry of her hometown into her award-winning novels, she believes that creating vivid characters makes a story memorable. A permitted/certified wildlife rehabber with the Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries, Weis rescues orphaned and injured wildlife. She lives with her husband and pets in New Orleans.
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