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Megan Shepherd Books

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Grim Lovelies

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The Cage

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Malice House

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“What did she know about the Black Forest? Only what she’d been able to glean from the maps in the library and from Luc’s fairy tales: Castles hidden in glens. Trees as tall as city buildings. Wolves and stags and bears. Mad princes who drowned in lakes. None of Mada Vittora’s books described an ancient academy deep in the woods, a place where it always snowed, where girls wanted magic badly enough to die for it.”

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Book:Midnight Beauties
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“I'm a rag doll, meant to comfort children. Certainly not to give them nightmares." "My darling, being scary isn't about having green scales or pointed teeth! Why, you could be the most angelic being around and still elicit screams. Here. Let me show you how it's done." He steps back into our bedroom's shadows, where the moonlight falls halfway on his skull. "Play with light and shadow," he says, stretching his jaw into a grin that would look cheerful under normal lighting but, in the half shadows, lends a sinister air. "Then, use your surroundings," he advises as he sweeps toward the fireplace. With his pointed black boot, he nudges a burning log, which shoots out sparks around him that crackle and pop. I squeeze my hands together at my chest, murmuring "oooh" at the impressive display. He takes both my hands in his, holding them against the cage of his ribs, letting me feel the pulse of his undead heart. He captures my gaze and says, "Lastly, understand why you scare." Before I can think on the question, he draws me forward until our lips connect, and when he cups my chin with his bone-smooth palm, I feel a spark jump between us like the ones dancing up toward the ceiling from the log in our fireplace. His hand fits against the curve of my back, and love for him thrums through me. When I gently pull back, I gaze up through my lashes and playfully tease, "What does kissing have to do with being scary?" "Nothing at all," he murmurs, then winks. "But I certainly understand why I did it.”

RomanticSally And Jack
Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“I've asked myself so many times where my heart felt at home, and the answer is like the walls of that mismatched cottage: I feel at home in my childhood bedroom with shooting-star sheets and my parents reading me stories. I feel at home cozied in bed with Jack, beneath the jack-o'-lantern quilt I sewed for us. I even feel at home-- in my darkest corners-- in my creaky old bedroom in Dr. Finkelstein's house. Belonging isn't about walls and a roof. It's a feeling. I felt an inkling of that when I was flying on Scorch, so careless and free. Up among the clouds, I never had to choose, and I don't now, either. I can be all of these places, all of these people, and still simply be Sally.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“You might be surprised to see how frightening your wife can be." For dramatic effect, I step back so the breeze blowing down the alleyway catches my hair, sending it into writhing snakelike locks. I stretch the seams on my cheeks into a ghoulish, haunting grimace, and let out the moan that sent a dragon quaking down to his paws. Jack staggers three steps backward, startled and entranced, his jaw open so far it practically unhinges. When he finally finds his words, he exclaims, "My beautiful bride! I didn't think I could love you more, yet here you go tying my heart in knots. Talented, kind, and frightening?" He throws his arms around my waist and plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. "How did I get so lucky?”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“Oh, Jack. I know how capable I am, but I still wish he were here to help me solve this. But in a way-- maybe he is here with me. Ever since that magical day we were married, it's felt like I have a second heart nestled next to my own, bound up in string. Jack and I are linked by invisible threads that pluck and pull even across a great distance. Even now, with the two of us separated farther than we've ever been, there's a tiny hum like a cicada buried in my stuffing, still connecting me to Jack.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“I am the Pumpkin Queen of Halloween Town. There is nothing-- nothing-- more frightening than me." I channel a lifetime lived among monsters. More Halloweens than I can count. Most of all, I channel Jack's advice about being scary. Play with light and shadow, Jack said. I move toward Scorch's tail fire so its wavering shadows make my eyes look huge. Use your surroundings. I step into the wind, which lifts my hair like writhing silken snakes. Understand why you scare. And I do-- for so long, I thought scares were simply about tricks and treats, but now I understand that the frightening faces we show to the world can do more than merely delight. I am queen of a nightmare land-- and I must save it. For the finishing touch, I let out a haunted wail, like a mournful black cat in the night.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“I can't help feeling a connection with Luna beyond just our being rag dolls. Both of us quiet. Bookish. Daydreamy. But whereas I grew up as friendless as a lone daisy in a graveyard, Luna has every chance to blossom. Besides, I tell myself, I'm not some lost stray cat hiding in the shadows anymore. Dr. Finkelstein was wrong. I am a queen, and I'm exactly where I belong-- with my family and Jack, who completes me in ways I didn't even know possible.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“I'm honored that my parents trust me enough to take on their jobs when they retire, so how can I refuse? I am originally from Dream Town. This was my bed. This was my home. I can't just ignore my duty. But in a way, the scenes captured in these watercolor paintings feel like someone else's life. Halloween Town is the only home I've ever truly known. Whether or not I belonged there, I grew to adore it. The black cat's chorus of midnight wails. The silver glow of the full moon. The scent of fire-roasted pumpkin soup on an autumn breeze. I used to sit at my barred window in Dr. Finkelstein's house and watch the townspeople like they were characters in my own macabre little dollhouse: the Mayor wheeling around in his hearse. The trio of musicians playing a morose melody. The corpse family bringing in the pumpkin harvest with their lumbering gaits and rattling chains. They all became such dear characters to me, even if half of them never knew my name. And so, when I married Jack and became the Pumpkin Queen, it meant everything that they embraced me. There were bumps along the road, of course, but now I'm traipsing around that macabre little dollhouse village with them all. Dancing. Delivering potions. Making queenly proclamations. Even now, it brings tears to my eyes. I want to hold on to this beautiful feeling of belonging for all eternity.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“Despite nearly drowning and narrowly avoiding a mermaid's song, I'm intrigued by this new world. I'm curious how their ruler determines what makes a hero and what makes a villain. It can't be as simple as which side of town a character lives on, if they have horns or halos or use swords or spells. There might have been a time when I thought good and evil were clear-cut, but that all changed when Jack set out to save Christmas and ended up ruining it instead. He became the villain instead of the hero he yearned to be. And what about me? I live in a world of monsters who, by most reckonings, would be considered villains. Yet that's the last way I think about gentle Behemoth, sweet little Zero, friendly Undersea Gal. Do they think of me as a hero simply because I come from a land of sweet dreams? Of course not. If they look at me with any admiration, it's because of my efforts as queen, not the crown alone.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“Crisp autumn leaves whip our faces, but then, we break free from the canopy. Nothing but vast sky surrounds us above and all around. Below, Fable Town stretches as far as my eyes can see. Adjusting his satchel strap around his chest, Scorch straightens out his flight path to run parallel to the ground. We skim the clouds over dwarfs' cottages and fairy rings of red-capped mushrooms. Scorch crests a hill, and the impenetrable canopy of trees that makes up Villain Village stretches beneath us. In the distance, the spire of a crumbling, dark castle rises over a tangled, thorny thicket. A salty breeze ruffles my eyelashes, and before I know it, Scorch plunges down a cliff and flies us over the Fabled Sea. I spot the deep blue water where we fell. The half-submersed shipwreck. The beach where we collapsed in tearful, soggy joy. We fly over a rocky promontory where the mermaid warbles her siren song up at us, but the wind blows away her words before she can ensnare us.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“Fable Town's door is set in a sprawling live oak whose knobby trunk rivals the size of the largest mausoleum in our cemetery-- I suppose the door has to be this large to fit a dragon, after all-- with a canopy of serpentine branches that extended like the wizened, swollen-knuckled fingers of a witch. The knots are so smooth to the touch that I know this tree must be hundreds of years old. Thousands, even. Maybe even the first tree to ever exist in the Hinterlands. For what is older than fables themselves? a voice whispers in my mind. Distant tinkles of laughter like fairy bells rustle the shimmering leaves. Everything about this tree whispers of ancient storybooks and steaming spicy tea and castle halls filled with lute music. A picture of an open storybook is carved into the door, along with words so timeworn that I have to trace them with my finger to read them. "Once... upon... a... time..." I recite aloud in a voice as breathy as a spell.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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“We have three rules we require you to follow,” the Caretaker continued, oblivious of her fear, “which are for your own benefit and that of your species. The first is to solve the enrichment puzzles. This will strengthen your physical and mental conditioning. The second rule is to maintain your health by eating the food we provide for you, getting ample sleep, and cooperating in routine health assessments. The third rule is to ensure the continuation of your species by engaging in procreative activities.”

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Author:Megan Shepherd
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“You had a bad dream." Jack tenderly tucks a strand of bloodred hair behind my ear. "I've got you now, Sally. Through sweet dreams or nightmares, I've always got you." "Oh, Jack." I bury my face against his rib cage. "It didn't feel like a dream." As I sink into his hold, letting my twisted-up stuffing of cotton and crisp autumn leaves unravel back into place, I try to tell myself that he's right: It was only a dream. I may now be the queen of a land of nightmares-- but I come from a place of sweet dreams. And even though my life is happier now than I ever imagined, it seems that, even in slumber, I still can't find my place between those worlds.”

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Book:Hour of the Pumpkin Queen
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