xcerpt from TURNS OF FATE by Anne Bishop:
Lucas Frost completed his patrol of the part of Destiny Park visitors found interesting—or to be precise, didn’t find too strange and unnerving. There was more to the park if you knew how to find it—or were destined to find it—but no one had bought a ticket for any of the trains, no one had bought a ticket for the bus that traveled to the “neighborhoods” on the island. Since no one had come to the pavilion to report someone missing, that meant no one had been foolish enough to go through a moon gate without fully understanding what would happen, depending on the gate’s intention at that moment.
Most of the moon gates within reach of determined visitors were transportation. They took a person from the park to the station where a ticket could be purchased for passage on a bus, train, or ship. Sometimes one of those gates took a person far beyond the park—and usually beyond any hope of returning unless you were one of the Arcana.
Some of the gates had multiple possibilities—like transformation. A kind of alchemy, changing one thing to another. Changing a person into something else.
Those who came to Wyrd came at their own risk as they searched for something beyond the mundane. Some parts of Wyrd could be benevolent in their own way, but usually people who looked for something other than a bit of fun crossed the river because of a deep need.
Lucas entered the pavilion and stopped at the arched doorway, puzzled by all the signs set out on one side of the pavilion—the side the visitors flocked to. Out to lunch. Back in one hour.
He walked into the room where his wife and her sisters did a different kind of business.
They were waiting for him.
“Someone is coming,” Zerah said, her hand hovering above the cards she’d drawn from her chosen decks. “A desperate journey. Life or death.”
“When?” he asked.
Zerah’s hand moved over the cards. She selected another card and turned it over. “Now.”
Meaning this person was on the ferry.
He looked at Justine. She looked at Lysandra, whose clouded eyes saw much and guided her hand as she sketched possible fates.
Lysandra closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were clear. She turned her sketch pad to reveal what she had seen.
A woman. Attractive, vibrant, holding a book in her hand. He couldn’t read all of the title, but the author’s name on the cover was Rachel Nightingale. That sketch blended into the same woman, dull eyed and looking like a walking corpse made of skin and bones. That sketch blended into the woman laid out in a coffin—and a date that was only a few months from now. Her destiny if she didn’t do something to change it, if she didn’t have the courage to embrace a different path.
Lysandra had revealed that path too. A dangerous one, and not without fear or pain. But a way to disappear for a while and, after an interval, return as someone else who would have a chance to live.
“Evil will hunt her,” Justine said. “Evil that wears success and a three-piece bespoke suit and speaks pretty words to people willing to look the other way.”
“I’ll go meet the ferry,” Lucas said.
“Tomorrow is soon enough for her to see us,” Justine said.
“If she’s being hunted . . .”
Zerah turned over another card. “The hunter has a hound. If the woman has courage, she will be gone before the hound crosses the river.”
“I’ll arrange for her to stay at the hotel for a day or two,” he said. “And I’ll ask Jack to stay there, too, and keep an eye on her.”
Lucas strode out of the pavilion, reaching the dock a minute before the ferry arrived. Then he waited for the woman who had come to Wyrd to change her fate.
*****
The problem with hiding in a seat at the front of the ferry was being one of the last people to disembark.
The rowdy teenage boys had tried to talk to her a couple of times, but Rachel pretended she didn’t hear them, even when one of them called her a stuck-up bitch. They were apprentice abusers—or just immature boys. Either way, she couldn’t afford to engage with them, even to defend herself in some way. There was always a chance one of them had a mother or an aunt who read her books, and he had seen—and might remember—her photo on the back cover.
Of course, she hadn’t been so thin the last time she’d had an author photo taken.
She followed the boys out, relieved that there were a couple of middle-aged women between her and them. The women’s chatter made it clear that they had come for a little taste of the strange—and an excellent lunch at the hotel.
She noticed the man at the end of the dock, eyeing each person as they passed him. The boys received a hard stare, but they were allowed to continue on their way. The two women received a nod that acknowledged them but didn’t encourage any chat, not even to ask for directions.
On the other hand, the hotel was in plain view, positioned on a rise that overlooked a sandy beach. She couldn’t see the pavilion the women had talked about.
The tall, black-haired man who stood at the end of the dock was an alpha male—and a predator. He was the kind of man who made Alistair edgy because Alistair’s form of predator couldn’t intimidate someone who was beyond dangerous.
Rachel ducked her head as she reached the end of the dock, hoping he’d dismiss her as uninteresting.
“Rachel Nightingale?”
A person can’t be afraid all the time. She wanted to believe that, but she knew it wasn’t true. She’d been afraid every waking moment for months now. Alistair didn’t have any legal right to have her committed to an institution of some kind, but he implied he could pull the right strings and get her committed for being emotionally unstable, could force her into giving him power of attorney over her assets. Then he could leave her locked up somewhere while he spent her money and looked for his next victim.
A person could be afraid all the time, but right here, right now, she was going to pretend she was still the strong, successful woman she had been before she met Alistair Hampton.
She lifted her head and looked the man in the eyes. “Yes.”
So much for bravery. Her throat closed up, choking her. One word was all she’d managed.
He took her overnight bag. “I’m Lucas Frost. Come with me.” It was a command, not a request.
She followed him up the boardwalk and continued to follow him when he turned onto a dirt path toward the hotel. He had the bag with her clothes and all the worldly goods she couldn’t stuff into her purse. “Are you some kind of security?”
“Why do you think that?”
“You knew who I was. Did Alistair send you?” If she reached the hotel and screamed for help, would anyone help her? Or would they all turn to this man, bending to his will?
“No one sends me,” Lucas replied. “The Ladies Three saw you were coming here and asked me to meet you when you disembarked. You’ll meet them in the morning.”
Was she supposed to know who the Ladies Three were? The librarian who had visited Wyrd hadn’t mentioned them.
“Do you have a phone or other electronic device?” Lucas asked.
She couldn’t see any point in lying. She’d been caught by someone who could turn Alistair into a smear under his shoe. “I have an e-reader and a cell phone. The phone is turned off. The e-reader can’t be traced as long as I don’t connect with Wi-Fi. Maybe not even then. I’m not sure.”
“Give me the phone.” Lucas held out a hand.
She wanted to refuse to give up her only way to communicate with anyone beyond this place, but she felt herself bend to his will. She opened her purse, then stopped walking because she couldn’t walk and fumble through her purse at the same time.
He stopped and waited.
She found the phone and gave it to him.
“Does it have a password or a code to unlock it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She told him her PIN.
“Is there anything on here that would be a danger to anyone else? Pictures? Phone numbers?”
Rachel shook her head. “I deleted all those things months ago. The only numbers are Alistair’s cell phone, his office phone number, and the phone number for the central branch of the King’s Hill public library. I do—did—research for . . . It doesn’t matter. Nothing else.”
“So if this phone is found in a location and given to Alistair, it won’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know?”
“No.”
He started walking again. Rachel followed.
“There are a few rooms in the hotel that are very private,” Lucas said. “You’ll stay in that wing tonight, maybe longer. Stay in the room. Read your books. Order from the room service menu so that you’re not seen by too many visitors. Make sure you order enough food. And get some sleep. Tomorrow you’ll meet the Ladies Three, and you need to be strong, rested, and clear minded to understand your choices. My brother, Jack, will be staying in a room near yours to keep watch. You’ll be safe.”
“I’m not sure I have enough money to pay for a room at the hotel, and I can’t use a credit card,” Rachel said.
“We’ll discuss the fees tomorrow once you decide what you want to do and understand what it will cost.”
They reached the hotel. Lucas opened one of the glass doors.
“Why would you help me?” she asked.
“Sometimes we assist people who come here to meet their fate—or try to change it.”
He took care of getting the room and escorted her to a solid wall that had been painted with a kind of forest-fantasy mural. Then he pushed one part of the wall, and Rachel heard a click as a door opened—a door so well camouflaged she wouldn’t have found it on her own since it just looked like the hallway ended there.
Halfway down the secret hallway, he opened the door to a room that was simple and luxurious at the same time. Restful to the eyes and mind.
Lucas opened the curtains. “There is a small balcony and a chair. You can sit out there if you’d like some air.”
“Won’t I be seen?”
He looked amused. “Yes, but not by visitors. This part of the park belongs to the Arcana and is private.” The amused look faded into something feral. “But draw the curtains and don’t look out after the sun goes down.”
“In stories, telling the heroine not to look out would guarantee she would be overcome with curiosity and look in order to find out the secret.”
“Your people’s stories usually have the heroine seeing something that terrified her but managing to escape and emerge victorious. In our versions of those stories, most of the time the heroine sees the truth and then goes insane or dies. Don’t let curiosity waste your courage, Rachel Nightingale. Close the curtains after dark. Stay inside away from too many eyes. Tomorrow you will need all that you are in order to choose your future.”
He set her room key on the dresser and left.
The room had a mini refrigerator and something that looked like an old-fashioned bread box to store non-refrigerated food. There were plates, silverware, and glasses, and a microwave to reheat food. No coffeemaker.
Her hands shook as she read the room service menu and called the hotel’s restaurant to place an order—a sandwich and salad with a bowl of seasonal fruit. Foods that she could store in the fridge.
While she waited, she hung up tops and slacks, put the underclothes in a drawer in the dresser. She put her e-reader on the table next to the bed and tucked her purse on the table’s bottom shelf.
She prowled the room and bathroom. It had most of the amenities of a five-star hotel, but she wondered—and worried—about why a hotel would have a secret wing of rooms.
A knock on the door. Rachel stood frozen for a moment before she hurried to answer the second knock.
No security chain on the door. No peephole to see who was out there.
Swallowing against a suddenly queasy stomach, she opened the door.
The man who stood on the other side looked enough like Lucas Frost to be a close relative.
“I’m Jack.” He held out a tray of food. “I’ll be in the next room, keeping an eye on things. If you need help for any reason—need help faster than you would get by calling the front desk—just shout or pound on the wall. I’ll hear you.”
“Are you hotel security?” she asked, taking the tray.
“You could say that.” Something about his smile made her think that his kind of security often ended with burying a body.
“Do I pay you?”
Jack shook his head. “The food has been added to your account.” He looked at her. “Don’t skimp. No matter what you decide, you’ll need a strong body for what is ahead.”
Rachel backed into the room. Jack closed the door, leaving her alone.
She was going to face some kind of ordeal. That much was clear. But not today. Today, in this room, she was safe.
Excerpted from TURNS OF FATE by Anne Bishop Copyright © 2025 by Anne Bishop. Excerpted by permission of Ace. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher
Narrator: Jesse Vilinsky
Isle of Wyrd #1
A young detective investigating crimes of the uncanny will learn that bargains can change your fate—for good or ill—in this darkly enthralling fantasy from the New York Times bestselling author of the Others and the Black Jewels series.
Words have power. Intentions matter.
Most people come to Destiny Park for entertainment. They come to have their cards read to tell them a bit about their future. They come to walk through a beautiful park and to eat at the hotel’s restaurant. They come in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Arcana, the paranormal beings who rule the Isle of Wyrd.
But some people come to make a bargain with the Arcana—to change their fate. And some people come for dark purposes.
When Detective Beth Fahey is sent to Destiny Park to inquire about a “ghost gun,” she will begin a strange journey on which she must learn to navigate the Arcana’s unforgiving laws and dangerous attractions. Her search will draw her into seemingly impossible cases and the secrets of her own past as tensions rise between the Arcana and their human neighbors across the river.
For the Isle of Wyrd is a place where the dead ride trains to their final destinations, predators literally become prey, and seekers’ true natures are revealed in the ripples of destiny unknowingly stirred in their wakes.
Who will live? Who will die? And who will be lost in between?
Paranormal | Fantasy Dark | Action [ Ace, On Sale: November 11, 2025, Hardcover / e-Book / audiobook, ISBN: 9780593954089 / eISBN: 9780593954096 ]
Deliciously creepy but a bit overly complex paranormal world
Anne Bishop is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty-six novels, including the Black Jewels Trilogy, for which she received the RT Book Reviews Pioneer Award. She is also the winner of the RT Book Reviews 2013 Career Achievement Award in Fantasy and the 2017 Career Achievement Award for Urban Fantasy for her Others series. Her stories have been translated into several languages including Dutch, French, German, Portuguese, and Polish. When she’s not writing, Anne enjoys gardening, reading, and music.
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