A tall girl blinked back at me. Her hair was hidden, covered in what looked like a spider's web. Her eyes stared. Wrapped in white, she looked like a column of smoke. Like a woman in a shroud. Like Lot's wife, who stopped, looked back, and turned to salt.
Excerpted from Villa Triste by Lucretia Grindle. Copyright © 2013 by Lucretia Grindle. Excerpted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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