Enshadowed: A Nevermore Book by Kelly CreaghEnshadowed: A Nevermore Book by Kelly Creagh

Enshadowed: A Nevermore Book

byKelly Creagh

Hardcover | February 6, 2014

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True love takes a twisted turn in the second book of this modern gothic romance trilogy channeling the dark brilliance of Edgar Allan Poe.

While Varen remains a prisoner in a perilous dream world where the terrifying stories of Edgar Allan Poe come to life, Isobel travels to Baltimore to confront the dark figure known throughout the world as the Poe Toaster. This man, the same man who once appeared to Isobel in her dreams and abandoned her in Varen’s nightmare world, holds the key to saving Varen.
     But when Isobel discovers a way to return to this dream world, she finds herself swept up in a realm that not only holds remnants of Edgar Allan Poe’s presence, but has also now taken on the characteristics of Varen’s innermost self. It is a dark world of fear, terror, and anger.
     When Isobel once more encounters Varen, she finds him changed. And now Isobel must face a new adversary—one who also happens to be her greatest love.
Title:Enshadowed: A Nevermore BookFormat:HardcoverDimensions:448 pages, 0.57 × 5.5 × 1.5 inPublished:February 6, 2014Publisher:Atheneum Books For Young ReadersLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1442402040

ISBN - 13:9781442402041

Appropriate for ages: 12

Reviews

Rated 1 out of 5 by from Eh It wasn't as good as the first one. Too slow
Date published: 2017-05-24
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Better Than The First Book This was better, faster paced, than the first book. Made me excited for book 3. #plumreview
Date published: 2017-03-27
Rated 2 out of 5 by from Not impressed. I really enjoyed Nevermore, which is why I was so excited to read this book and find out how Isobel's and Varen's story unfolds. Too bad it was a complete disappointment! I kept reading waiting for something exciting and worth my while to happen, but it never came. The book revolves around Isobel trying to get to Varen for more than 70% of the book. I don't think anything actually happens until the last 4 chapters. I will not be reading the last book this series because this one left me not wanting anything to do with this story anymore.
Date published: 2015-10-17
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Dissapointing The first book was way better. I was expecting alot more from this installment.
Date published: 2013-05-26
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Slightly darker than Nevermore, but equally good! I received this Advance Reader's Copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. I did not receive any compensation for my review, and the views expressed herein are my own. Because I recently finished reading Nevermore, the first in the trilogy, I thankfully did not have to wait 1.5 years to continue the story! Enshadowed picks up approximately two months after Nevermore ends, where we left off at The Grim Facade ball on Halloween. Now, the setting is Christmas and Isobel is determined to get to Baltimore for Edgar Allan Poe's birthday on January 19th because she believes that the Poe Toaster will make an appearance and that he will lead her back to Varen. I was eager for Isobel and Varen to be reunited, and I was approximately 300 pages into the story before the monumental event of Poe's birthday finally took place! Even though Varen was absent for the majority of the book, we learn some valuable insight into what is going on through Isobel's interactions with Pinfeathers (love him!) and Lilith. I flew through the final 130 pages of the book, and I was horrified that the book ended on such an emotional cliff-hanger that I was rendered speechless! Creagh does not disappoint, and the momentum that she built up through the first two-thirds of the story were anxiety-inducing! I found Enshadowed to be slightly darker than Nevermore. Isobel seems obsessed and driven to find Varen and will stop at nothing. Even knowing that her family will be hurt at her betrayal does not persuade her to change her mind. There is a particularly poignant moment, the restaurant scene in Baltimore, where Isobel even comes to grips with her own mortality. She realizes that she may not come back. I love quirky Gwen, and I hope that she will also figure prominently in the next book. I have to admit that I missed Varen. I was so hoping for Isobel and Varen to be reunited, and what happens is just tragic. I am aching to find out what happens next! The final book in the trilogy is slated for release in 2013. In the meantime, since Creagh has re-awakened my interest in Poe, I plan to read The Fall of the House of Usher and other works. MY RATING: 4 stars!! It was really good! You should put it on your "To Be Read" list.
Date published: 2012-10-13
Rated 4 out of 5 by from 4.5 Maple leaves!! It's been two months since Varen vanished from the real world. Now, while prisoner of the dreamworld, Isobel is desperately trying to keep her promise of finding him again. While getting access to the dreamworld is not an easy task, Isobel hopes that the appearance of the mysterious Reynolds on Poe's grave will open a door between world and thus, a way for her to get to Varen again. The publication date for Enshadowed (Nevermore#2) was pushed two times if I remember well. It was very frustrating considering how much I loved Nevermore. So waiting for this book to come out was not only a long wait, but also a torture. Yet, Ms. Creagh took her time and thanks lord she did because the result of the delays really pays-off! Enshadowed 's vividly imagined cryptic world and bewitching plot kept me reading late into the night. No need to mention that the macabre and sinister atmosphere helped a lot in keeping me awake (and chilled to the bone). Now, here are just some reasons why you should definitely read this book. Hell Yeahs - Nevermore and Enshadowed are very original works of YA lit. I have read hundreds of YA books and this one stands out because is different. - The plot is wonderfully developed. Absolutely gripping and captivating. There was no moment I wanted to put this book down!! - Bewitching and cryptic atmosphere - and just wait until you get to the cemetery and dreamworld part *shivers* - Varen shows up very little on this installment but Oh my! how tantalizing and sinister his presence is! *more shivers* ~ for hotness and creepyness. - Isobel is a very refreshing YA heroine. This girly and sweet cheerleader knows very well how to punch, but it is the pureness and innocence of her heart that makes her so strong, not the badass movements that we usually find in so many other YA lead females. - Gwen! Isobel's best friend is more alive than ever. She is very close to jump out of the pages! Love her 3 - The Nocs (Devilish creatures) shows up in the real world bringing more than a creepy and scary dose! But - The ending, for me, was unsatisfying. Although when I turned the last page I was like... What the hell just happened?!! It is really chocking! but unfortunately there is no resolution and of course I wished I had more. Macabre, bizarre, sinister and totally absorbing, Enshadowed is definitely an uncanny and dark addictive read that will haunt readers through the night. So don't wait any longer, and go pick it up as soon as it comes out!
Date published: 2012-08-22
Rated 5 out of 5 by from A must-read series! Varen has been missing for over two months, and though nobody has any idea where he went, the general consensus of the student body is that Isobel had something to do with his disappearance. But Isobel doesn't care - the only thing she's cared about for the past few months is getting to Baltimore and confronting the mysterious figure who calls himself Reynolds. She's convinced that he's the only way back into Varen's dream world - the only way she can keep her promise to rescue him from the living nightmare he's created. The minute I received this book in the mail, I knew I wouldn't be putting it down for a while. The first book in the series, Nevermore, was definitely one of my favourite reads of this year. Everything about the story pulled me in - the premise, the setting, the characters... and of course the fact that it was based on the works of Mr. Edgar Allen Poe. I flew through the book, refusing to put it down for more than ten minutes at a time. I had no doubt in my mind that the second installment would be just as amazing as the first. I was not disappointed in the least. Kelly Creagh draws you back into Isobel and Varen's world effortlessly, with haunting imagery and enough suspense to keep you glued to the pages. Readers will see a lot of character growth in Isobel in this installment, as she is both figuratively and literally haunted by Varen. We also see a lot of changes in Varen, and a little bit more insight into his past. I was freaking out when I read the ending - IT WAS SO GOOD! You wanna know the only thing I disliked? I have to wait an entire year for the final installment! If you haven't already pre-ordered Enshadowed, then you need to. Right now. Get on the computer and order it, okay? Promise?! If you haven't read the first book in the series, I definitely recommend you check it out as soon as possible. Fans of paranormal YA, darker fiction, romance, and - of course - Edgar Allen Poe will love it.
Date published: 2012-06-10
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Please Please Please Come Out! I picked the first book in this series randomly as something to read. It was a sizeable hard cover. Thinking it would take up some time, I began flipping through. I didn't put it down for 2 days straight. I am ecstatic for the next one!
Date published: 2012-06-08
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Can't Wait When I first read Nevermore, I got swept up into the dark poetry of Edgar Allan Poe and absoultley loved it. The plot for Nevermore was very well thought out and gripping. The whole dream world thing really made the book stand out for me. I can't wait to read Enshadowed so I can find out what happens to Varen, Isobel and the rest of the characters!
Date published: 2011-05-28

Read from the Book

1Deep into That Darkness “Okay, Hawks,” Coach Anne said. “That’s a wrap. We can officially call that our last run before Nationals. At least until we hit Dallas.” Isobel released a sigh, her shoulders slumping in relief. Around her, tired whoops and clapping echoed through the gym, everyone breaking off to find their water bottles and towels. A dull ache spread its way slowly through her as she allowed her muscles to unclench. Her whole body felt like a twisted rope unwinding. Already, Coach had drilled the routine at least twenty times. Even if Coach had wanted them to go again, Isobel didn’t think she could have managed another pike basket toss, let alone landed one more full. She knew she wasn’t the only one running on fumes either. She’d felt the entire squad’s energy draining away little by little, like a machine operating on a single dying battery. Coach must have felt it too. Isobel had no doubt that she would have drilled them until midnight if she hadn’t sensed her squad preparing for mutiny. Then again, it wasn’t unusual for Coach to pull this kind of boot-camp, cheer-till-you-drop drillathon, especially right before a big competition. And this was the competition, after all. But her motivation for killing them like this lay less, Isobel knew, in ironing out any last-minute kinks and more in sending everyone home too tired to do anything but crash. “I want you all to get some rest tonight,” Coach shouted above a sudden burst of laughing and talking, her words confirming Isobel’s suspicions. “That means no late-night Facebook updates, no texting, no two a.m. phone calls with Mr. or Miss Flavor of the Week, and no last-minute stunting in the living room—I’m talking to you, Miss Dorbon. I want everybody here in one piece and ready to go at five a.m. sharp. Got that?” Coach lifted one thick arm over her frizzy poof of brown hair and pointed at her wristwatch. “Bus leaves at six on the dot, so set your alarms. No hitting the snooze button forty times. No ‘I forgot my uniform.’ No excuses. I know I don’t have to tell any of you that we won’t wait if you’re late.” Speaking of late, Isobel wondered what time it was. It felt like they’d been there for hours. She glanced above the gym doors to the white-faced clock secured behind the protective metal grate designed to shield it from foul balls. At the sight of the dark, familiar figure standing in the doorway, however, all thoughts of time flew from her mind. Hands stuffed into the pockets of his black jeans, he watched her from behind reflective sunglasses, his expression calm, blank. A panicked stirring arose inside her, coupled with a nagging sensation that tugged at the back of her mind, like a child pulling on the hem of her mother’s dress. It was as though some deeper part of her was trying desperately to get her attention. Behind her, Isobel could hear Coach Anne’s continued tirade as she rattled off reminders about their uniforms and which colored tennis shoe inserts to wear. Blue bows for hair this time, she droned, not yellow. A-line skirts, not pleated. The longer Isobel stared at the figure standing in the open doorway, though, the more distant Coach’s voice began to grow. The walls of the gymnasium, the squad, and the floor, too—they all blurred out of her vision until there was only him. Isobel walked toward the figure and reached for the glasses, the urge to strip them from his face and look into his eyes nothing short of a compulsion. He stopped her hand with his. The contact made her pause, and the nameless dread inside her melted away as his fingers intertwined with hers. His hand felt so warm. “Ready to go?” he asked. His voice rippled through her, low, soft, and a little husky—like the hushed crackling of an old-fashioned record player just before the music starts. Quieting the tangled mesh of her thoughts, it numbed her like a drug. Her eyes flicked down from his glasses to the slight smile that tugged at one corner of his mouth. A glint of light caught on his lip ring, causing the silver to flash. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. She wanted to feel that tiny slip of metal against her own lips, to kiss him. As if that would somehow help her catch her breath. But she couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something about the moment, something about his very presence that she wasn’t grasping. It was as if her mind had misplaced some vital bit of information. Or lost it entirely. “What—what are you doing here?” she asked him, because it was the one question that kept pushing all the others out of the way. One of his eyebrows drifted above the top edge of his sunglasses. His half smile remained in place. “I came to pick you up,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend. I do that now, remember?” Girlfriend. The word felt like a switchblade to her heart. The pain it evoked was more tender than sharp, though, the kind that comes along with saying good-bye to a friend you know you’ll never see again. “C’mon,” he said before she could ask any more questions. He began to turn away and she felt his hand tighten around hers, squeezing, tugging her after him. “We should go.” Isobel found herself following him, her steps falling in stride with his. She wanted to look back, to see who’d been watching and who had noticed. Certainly Coach had seen her go. Isobel couldn’t understand why Coach wasn’t yelling at her right that very second, shouting for her to come back and that practice wasn’t over until after cooldown. But she didn’t have time to turn around. She and Varen had already reached the double doors that led out into the school’s rear parking lot. They pushed through, greeted by a cascade of snow that poured from above, the gray-purple clouds all but blotting out the sky, leaving no room for the cold winter sun. Varen’s black 1967 Cougar sat alone in the empty parking lot, a dark inkblot surrounded by a sea of vacant whiteness. Isobel frowned. Where were all the other cars? Where was the line of minivans and SUVs waiting to pick up the rest of the squad? Where was Coach’s hulking, rust-red Suburban? “I need to show you something,” she heard Varen say, though he didn’t turn around. Isobel’s focus narrowed in on the nape of his neck, the place where his hair, black and silken, jagged as crows’ feathers, brushed the collar of his T-shirt. Had she only just noticed how long it had grown? A breeze whipped past them, and his bare arms made her wonder why he hadn’t worn his jacket. “Varen, where are we going?” “You’ll see,” was his only response as he hurried her through the parking lot. Beneath their feet, the snow, still fresh and powdery, made no sound. Reaching the Cougar, he opened and held the passenger-side door for her, the cab light illuminating the familiar burgundy interior. She hesitated and glanced back to Varen. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he gestured to the upholstery. “Yeah,” he said, “sorry about that. Still waiting on those mink seat covers.” Isobel shot him a wry smile. Before she could return his trademark sarcasm with her own dry quip, though, something about his appearance made her pause. There was something missing. Something off . . . She realized that even though she was looking straight at him, she could not see herself in the mirrored lenses of his glasses, only the reflection of blackened trees standing in rows behind her, their thin prison-bar trunks still visible through the thickening screen of falling snow. In the reflection, a large ebony bird lifted off from one of the twisted branches, and the sound of its beating wings caused her to flinch and whirl. But when she looked, there were no trees. No bird. Only the rigid outline of Trenton High’s neo-Gothic facade. From here, Isobel could just make out the four spires of the school’s main entrance tower peeking up over the roof’s ledge. The countless windowpanes glared white, refracting the overcast light like a thousand dead eyes. Even though she’d just left the squad in the gym, the entire building now appeared deserted—except for the top floor, where Isobel thought she saw the silhouette of someone standing in one of the windows, watching them. “Get in,” Varen said. “Now.” Isobel turned and sank into the car, spurred by the urgency in his voice. She shut the door behind her and, glancing to the driver’s side, was shocked to find him already there, one hand on the steering wheel, the other locked around the stick shift, the bulky onyx gem of his class ring shining like oil in the stark light. The car hummed. Isobel felt her seat vibrate beneath her as the engine rumbled, though she couldn’t recall his turning the key. The smell of exhaust fumes filtered into her awareness while the windshield wipers jumped into action, slashing back and forth to cast off the gathering snow. By now, the cascade of whiteness had grown so heavy that the world outside had all but vanished. Beside her on the seat, the ratty old Discman Varen had rigged up to the Cougar’s dashboard radio sprang to life. Through the tiny rectangular window, Isobel saw the disc inside whir. A woman’s soft voice erupted through a hiss of static. Her humming, unaccompanied by any instrumentals, filled the car. Soft and sweet, sad but beautiful, the naked melody was one Isobel had never heard before. The voice, too, was unfamiliar, possessing an airy quality, wispy and almost shy. Without warning, Varen snatched the Discman, yanking it free from the wires that connected it to the dashboard, instantly silencing the static and the humming. With a hard scowl, he tossed the CD player into the backseat. Grabbing the stick shift again, he threw the car into gear. His foot hit the gas pedal and they began to move, accelerating to top speed. Isobel opened her mouth to speak, but Varen cut her off, turning the wheel sharply. Pressed to the passenger-side door, she groped for something to hold on to, instantly reminded of that night he’d driven her home, careening down the road while ignoring her desperate pleas for him to stop. Fear erupted inside her like a match striking. She gripped the seat beneath her, able only to see endless white through the windows. “Varen! You can’t even see where you’re going!” “I don’t have to,” he said. Isobel felt her muscles tighten again, coiling up, tensing in preparation for the impact that would surely kill them both any second. “Varen! Ple—” Isobel stopped, her words evaporating in her mouth as she caught sight of the small clock embedded into the dashboard. The hands of the clock looped opposite each other and spun lazily around and around, never stopping. She watched the needle of the speedometer tip to and fro like the pendulum of a metronome. The gas gauge read empty, but she could hear the engine growling, guzzling fuel. “Wait,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “This isn’t . . . This is a dr—” “Don’t,” he snapped, silencing her. “Not yet.” His foot slammed on the brake. Isobel pitched forward in her seat as the car skidded to a halt, its tires shrieking. Like sand being blown from a relic, the snow coating the windshield began to erode. Or rather, Isobel thought, the ash. Tiny blots of bright crimson now fluttered down all around them, lighting on the windshield. The car jerked to a final stop, causing Isobel to fly back again. Frantic, she turned toward the driver’s side, only to find the car door flung open and Varen gone. Outside, countless red roses bobbed their heads, their waxy leaves rustling in a sudden gust of wind that sent even more blood-colored petals raining over the car. Thick and heady, the aroma of the blossoms weighed down the air. Isobel fumbled for the handle on her door, which popped open as soon as she touched the latch. Jerking her arm with it, the door swung out wide over the jagged edge of a black cliff. Far below, milky waters churned amid toothy rocks while the waves clamored one over the other, snapping like white wolves before smashing against the flat face of the cliff. Isobel gave a silent shriek. She backpedaled for the driver’s side. Twisting, she grabbed hold of the steering wheel, using it to pull herself out on the other side. She spilled hard onto the ground. Rolling onto her back, she hiked one knee up and kicked, sending the door of the Cougar slamming shut. The echoing clap caused the car to disperse into ashes. Isobel raised her arms to shield her face from the spray of grit. Through the settling dust, she saw that the cliffs had vanished, leaving only the surrounding walls of ruby blossoms. In the midst of what appeared to be an enormous rose garden, a familiar structure became discernible through the screen of the settling powder. Isobel recognized the structure as the fountain from Varen’s neighborhood. It now stood in the center of a circular dome-shaped room enclosed by scarlet blooms. Without the curtain of crystal water pouring from the ledge of its rounded green basin, the fountain was a silent and eerie monument. Isobel pulled herself to her feet, her practice sneakers caked with ash, chalk white against a carpet of ruby petals. Her eyes locked on the statue of the woman that stood at the top of the fountain, her stiff stone veil clutched in her hands, the fabric arcing out behind her nearly nude figure in a backward C. Isobel turned in a circle. All around her, buds and blossoms in various states of unfurling dotted the trellised walls. High over the statue’s head, thick vines met at a circular opening at the top of the domed ceiling. Through the porthole, she could see a tangled webwork of black tree limbs. What was this place? And where was—? “Varen!” “Here.” Isobel started, nearly yelping as she found him standing right in front of her. She peered up into eyes no longer shielded by sunglasses. Their centers were black, swept clean of color and light. She searched through their darkness, desperate to find some irrefutable evidence in their depths that could prove it was really him. “Is—is any of this real?” she asked. “Are you real?” He lifted a hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing her jaw. “Even if this is a dream,” he whispered, “I’m not.” Isobel’s eyes widened, recognizing those words as her own, the same ones she had once uttered to him. She reached for him, her arms twining around his neck, drawing him to her so that his scent poured over her, that combination of incense, citrus, and dried leaves overriding the funeral smell of the crowding flowers. He lowered his forehead to hers, his hair draping around their faces, the smooth strands tickling her skin. “Don’t leave,” she breathed. “I’m here,” he whispered. “Right here. Waiting.” He leaned in. Isobel tilted her chin up, ready for the press of his lips. She wanted to let her eyes fall shut, but something, a sensation of being watched, stopped her. Her glance slid past his shoulder, her focus drawn to the statue atop the fountain. Between the inky strands of Varen’s hair, Isobel watched its eyes slide open. She stared, transfixed, as the statue turned its head toward them, aiming those two empty pits of blackness straight at her.

Editorial Reviews

“For readers who can't get enough of Varen, Isobel and Poe.”

Kirkus Reviews, July 15, 2012