Seventeen-year-old Annabeth prefers the fantasy of her books and paintings to reality—because in reality, her mom is dead, and it was all her fault. When she accompanies her father to the funeral of some family friends who drowned, she’s surprised to find her grief reflected in the face of Griffin Bradford, the son of the couple who died. Griffin is nothing like the carefree boy she once knew. Now he’s irritable, removed, and he’s under police investigation for his parents’ deaths.
One night following the memorial service, Annabeth’s dad goes missing in the woods, and she suspects Griffin knows more about the disappearance than he’s letting on. He refuses to answer her questions, particularly those related to the mysterious “expedition” his parents took to Ireland, where they went missing for seven months.
Annabeth fears her father isn’t lost, but rather a victim of something sinister. She launches her own investigation, tracing clues that whisper of myth and legend and death, until she stumbles upon a secret. One that some would die to protect, others would kill to expose—and which twists Annabeth’s fantasy and reality together in deadly new ways.
I borrowed this book from my library because the premise instantly hooked me in. This story promised mystery, adventure, secret societies, etc. However! This was a total snooze.
I could never figure out Annabeth, she was really moody (which you could argue she has good reason to) but beyond that, she didn’t have much of a personality. She leaped to so many incorrect conclusions, with absolutely no evidence. While I didn’t hate anything about her, I definitely didn’t like anything about her either. The same can be said about Griffin, her love interest. He was broody and boring.
The pacing was very wonky. A lot was crammed into a few pages, but then we’d get chapters and chapters of nothing. A lot wasn’t explained as well, the entire mystery was left very vague and the answers we get aren’t very developed.
I liked exactly two things: the cover and the prologue.