Beware the gardener who grows a bloom in a single night. For if the roots didn’t work for the bloom, the bloom will eventually eat the roots.

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In Solos, parables like these have kept people safe for generations. Until the night the crows came six and bodies told a different story. Solos had kept to the old ways, refused the grid, and held its line against the neighboring city of Unire and its leader Cambros. They saw what Unire was becoming and raised their fences against it.

 

When an illness arrives that feeds on fear, with bruises flowering on skin and crows arriving in dreams, the Halloway women discover that Cambros built it as a weapon against a town that refused to join his Network. The cure, if there is one, may live inside nineteen-year-old Eve Halloway, who can hear what her neighbors’ bodies tell her whether she wants to or not. Many in Solos are afraid of what Eve can do — they call it witchcraft. Now it may be the very thing that saves them.

 

Solos is about what the Halloway women discover when others attempt to contain them: that the mind, when it stops being feared, is the most powerful force in any room.

“Rare conceptual confidence!”  “A very clear and enchanting sense of identity.”  “Nothing feels accidental and the imagery is haunting in its beauty.”