Rare By Patrick de Moss
Publication date: March 1, 2025
Buy Link: Amazon
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Summary:
Some songs aren’t meant to exist.
When sixteen-year-old Emma receives a mysterious Beatles record—a cover of The Girl Can’t Help It, a song they never recorded, her life changes in ways she never imagined. Grieving her grandmother’s death and lost in the heavy fog of depression, Emma doesn’t expect much from the strange package. But the moment the needle drops, magic ripples through the world.
Angels shiver. Dragons stir in their hoards. Vampires feel an ancient hunger awaken. The song calls to them all, and it calls to Emma too. For the first time since her grandmother’s death, Emma feels something spark inside her: hope. But magic has a price, and the Dark has heard the song as well.
To protect the record, Emma must venture into the Hidden States of America—a surreal, shadowed version of the country where myth and reality blur. It’s a country shaped by the stories we tell and the secrets we keep, where ordinary towns hide extraordinary truths.
As Emma struggles to carry the song to where it belongs, she’ll have to confront her grief, face her deepest fears, and discover if she has the strength to resist the pull of the Dark.
From Patrick de Moss, the acclaimed author of Kings of Nowhere, comes a darkly magical tale of loss, courage, and the power of music to heal even the deepest wounds. This is a story that explores the fragile beauty of hope and the strength it takes to face the shadows.
Rare is a spellbinding modern fable. Every note of the song of this story echoes with both wonder and danger. Some songs can change the world. Some songs can change you.
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EXCERPT
Far, far away to the east, in New York City, where magic and power and rumor swirled in their own urban galaxy, a very ancient and powerful creature lived in the highest tower money could buy. While many of his kind lived and worked in the greater New York area, coiled around the rise and fall of stocks and bonds in an endless dance of power and wealth, he was by far the oldest in that den of snakes. He was old enough that his thick fingers still dreamed of worn gold coins and his body of piles of treasure beneath his scales. Now, of course, he slept only on damask of the finest quality, spread over a memory foam mattress—nowhere near as comfortable as cold hard cash.
That night, he was window shopping, his hungry eye roving over page after page of the most exotic goods Sotheby’s online could offer.
If one lived long enough, even the most exquisite meals tasted like ashes on the tongue; breathe often enough, and even bottled air from Everest smelled stale and flat. He could hardly be bothered to hide his own nature when he was alone—the secret theater of the Council and its Compact had been a bit of a thrill for a while, but Mr. Drake—just Drake to his friends—was getting bored.
