We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from The Fox and the Satan, a sapphic gothic fantasy by Kiersten White, out from Del Rey on March 10.
Anneke has an advanced relationship along with her father, Abraham Van Helsing—physician, scientist, and madman dedicated to the research of vampires—till the night time she comes house to search out him murdered, with a surreally stunning girl looming over his physique. A girl who leaves no hint behind, apart from the desires and nightmares that now plague Anneke each night time.
Spurred by her need for vengeance and armed with the newest forensic and investigatory methods, Anneke places collectively a group of detectives to catch this mysterious serial killer. As a result of her father isn’t the one inexplicable lifeless physique. There’s a path of victims throughout Europe, and Anneke is for certain they’re all linked.
However throughout the years spent relentlessly searching the killer, Anneke retains essential proof to herself: infuriatingly coy letters, addressed solely to her, sometimes soaked in blood, and at all times signed Diavola.
The nearer Anneke will get to her satan, although, the much less sense the world makes. Perhaps her father wasn’t a madman in spite of everything. Diavola is perhaps one thing a lot worse than a serial killer… and far tougher to destroy. But as Anneke reveals extra of Diavola’s tragic previous, she suspects there’s nonetheless a coronary heart someplace in that undead physique.
A coronary heart that beats for Anneke alone.
The Paris Exposition Universelle, April 29, 1900
As the gang screams, all Henri thinks is that he’s going to be in a lot hassle when his mother and father discover out. He closes his eyes, attempting his greatest to undo what occurred. Unwind his day. Find yourself wherever however right here.
The Paris Exposition Universelle— the truthful— open eventually. Henri had skipped college and walked throughout the brand new bridge, with its flying golden horses and bare nymph women and delicate glass cattails he needs desperately to steal and secrete away to his personal room.
He’d gone proper by the Grand and Petit Palaces, little interest in ready simply to see some fussy artwork. The worldwide homes alongside the river intrigued him, although. They’d solely been up for a month and seemed so everlasting. It makes him unhappy that they’ll be gone on the finish of the 12 months. He had skipped alongside them, selecting which one he would reside in in order that they couldn’t take it away. The Swedish pavilion, with its towers and wood bridges and daring yellow paint, appeared the only option.
Everybody says there’s nothing this 12 months fairly so spectacular because the Eiffel Tower from the final truthful, however Henri was solely a child then. He’s grown up with that jumble of steel bars and doesn’t suppose it’s wherever as fancy because the transferring sidewalk encircling the grounds. He’d ridden it round and round, pleased with himself for being intelligent sufficient to sneak on. It was nearly pretty much as good because the Ferris wheel. If Henri had sufficient cash, that’s the place he’d be now. Not right here.
He can’t be right here, he doesn’t need to be right here. He needs the truthful to be wonderful and enjoyable and thrilling. Paris, bursting on the seams with guests, the world flocking to see his metropolis strutting like a peacock.
Perhaps he’s nonetheless on the sidewalk. Perhaps none of that is actually taking place. Henri squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, feeling the swaying motion, listening to the clatter of the wooden slats as they go over the observe. However the screams preserve slicing in.
He ought to have stayed on the transferring sidewalk. He ought to have gone to highschool this morning as a substitute of skipping it. He ought to by no means have been so determined to see the large painted globe.
It’s all of the globe’s fault. A spherical constructing looming close to the Eiffel Tower, so bafflingly giant, so superbly painted. His mom had declared none of them would go close to it due to the zodiac symbols adorning the outside. Fortune telling is the satan’s work, she at all times says. It’s how he lures you in.
Perhaps she’s proper. As a result of Henri had been lured. He’d walked throughout the globe, neck craned as much as stare on the work. As he walked beneath the floating concrete entrance ramp, there was a rumbling and a cracking after which—
Henri tries to maneuver. He opens his eyes. They’re gritty and blurred, however above him he could make out the bars of the Eiffel Tower, painted orange on the base fading to yellow on the high. That’s the place he’ll go subsequent. Climb up and spit on the individuals milling about beneath. Then sneak into the Home of Optics to look at the dancers parading at the hours of darkness with their glowing costumes. Boast to all his buddies that he’d seen them. Lie about what he’d seen, too. He’s at all times been good at taking a narrative and making it appear extra thrilling or harmful or attention-grabbing. He’s midway into dreaming about what he’ll do subsequent when a dragging, rattling sound distracts him.
It’s coming from his chest. He must cough however he can’t. It smells like grime and dirt and blood and he can’t really feel his legs anymore.
Henri can’t think about his method out of this. He’s on the bottom, the floating concrete ramp is in items on high of him, and he can’t really feel his physique.
Purchase the E-book
The Fox and the Satan
The Fox and the Satan
Purchase this guide from:
There’s a dust-covered hand subsequent to his shoulder, extra grey than pink, like a statue had wandered freed from a constructing and dropped a chunk of itself right here to maintain him firm. He needs somebody to maneuver the hand, as a result of that’s the one method he can make certain that it isn’t really his personal. He retains looking at it, keen it to twitch, however nothing occurs. Does that imply it is his, or it isn’t?
“Whose hand is that?” he tries to shout, however he can’t draw sufficient breath to type the phrases. All that comes out is a low, creaking groan, like a door within the darkness swinging slowly open. He doesn’t need to know what’s behind the door.
As he ideas his head again and searches the gang, looking for somebody to assist him, one face stands out. One face within the dozens, wanting on not with horror or concern or panic, however a easy, happy smile. That face leans nearer till it’s all Henri can see.
A brand new odor cuts via the mud and the blood. A candy scent, nearly like his mom and her rosewater fragrance. Henri needs his mom. He needs to say he’s sorry, he ought to have listened, he’ll hear any longer.
However he is aware of he received’t have the ability to. Henri’s sure now what’s behind that creaking door opening in his physique. Ultimately, he feels concern. His mom was proper. The satan is right here. And Henri is trapped by the icy claws of demise, that cloying rose scent, and people bottomless eyes staring down at him.
Two nostrils flare as a deep breath is drawn. “Sure,” a voice says, caressing Henri’s clammy pores and skin with happy tones. “Sure, I’m going to love it right here.”
Excerpted from The Fox and the Satan, copyright © 2026 by Kiersten White.
Leave a Reply