BONE RITES:
The story of a women driven by a soul-destroying guilt.
Holloway prison, 1925. Dr Kathryn Darkling, branded The Westminster Vampire by the press, has two weeks until she is hanged for a series of brutal murders. Facing death, she knows that time is running out to complete her mission. Will she find a way to escape her fate?
Will she be able to perform the special bone rites that will save her brother?
Winner of The Virginia Prize for Fiction, Bone Rites is a dark, literary tale of love, loss and one woman's obsessive fight
for justice and redemption within a ruthless world
Reviews
“Completely gripping from the get-go, Natalie deftly builds such a complex story that has you rooting for a character you know you shouldn’t.”– Literary agent Hellie Ogden, judge of the Novel Prize
“We loved the chilling voice and strong sense of place her writing offers.”– Author Kiran Millwood-Hargrave, The Mercies
“A delightful twist in the murder genre – a serial killer motivated by love.”– Nicolas Mercier, TV writer, Call My Agent
Will she be able to perform the special bone rites that will save her brother?
Winner of The Virginia Prize for Fiction, Bone Rites is a dark, literary tale of love, loss and one woman's obsessive fight
for justice and redemption within a ruthless world
Reviews
“Completely gripping from the get-go, Natalie deftly builds such a complex story that has you rooting for a character you know you shouldn’t.”– Literary agent Hellie Ogden, judge of the Novel Prize
“We loved the chilling voice and strong sense of place her writing offers.”– Author Kiran Millwood-Hargrave, The Mercies
“A delightful twist in the murder genre – a serial killer motivated by love.”– Nicolas Mercier, TV writer, Call My Agent
A Sample Chapter from Bone Rites- Enjoy!
Chapter One: 1925, Holloway Prison
I collected the first bone when I was twelve. This fact was not mentioned in court. No crime was committed, so far as I know. Such a tiny little bone, more like a tooth. I only kept it to keep him safe. I wish I still had it, but it’s long gone. It’s all long gone now.
They have announced the date of my execution. I have just two more weeks in this hag-ridden castle. Two weeks! I never expected things to progress this quickly. It’s not that I fear the noose, far from it, but I cannot die until my work is done. Yet how is it to be managed in so short a time? The prison governor has been unsuccessful and there has been no reply from Scotland. I have failed on every level. I know I deserve to be punished, but not yet. Not yet.
I must find a way out of here.
A jangle of keys. The heavy iron door creaks open. I ready myself. It’s madness to think I’ll be able to escape so easily, but I’m willing to try anything. But instead of the young gullible skivvy, the wardress herself is bringing in my lunch slops. I slump back down on my iron bed, knowing full well that I have no chance of getting past her. She is almost as tall as me and twice as wide. And she’s no fool. She knows full well what I’m capable of. And yet today, her air of gleeful disdain has been replaced by resentment. Why? My breathing quickens–is there a letter from Scotland? But she has other news.
‘The Guv’nor’s finally found a chaplain what’s brave enough to take your last confession.’ She slams the slops on the table, then pauses, expecting a reaction. I do not oblige, even though my heart is pounding in furious delight. ‘Now you can atone for your crimes, can’t ya? And beg for God’s forgiveness.’
She spits on the floor.
‘I do not believe in God.’ I reply before I can stop myself. Fool! Will I ruin this before it even begins?
But she just laughs.
‘Well now! You can tell him that when you see him.’
‘The chaplain?’
‘No, God.’
I turn my back on her, but you cannot walk away in Holloway. Cannot slam a door in a temper. Those luxuries are gone, along with so many others.
When she is gone, slamming the door shut with a clang, I hug my knees. Finally, just as I was about to give up hope, they’ve found me a chaplain. It has begun. But do I have enough time? And what will this brave man be like? What will he expect me to say? That I am sorry for everything I have done? I am not. That I regret it all? I do not.
There is only one thing I truly regret. The first bone.
I collected the first bone when I was twelve. This fact was not mentioned in court. No crime was committed, so far as I know. Such a tiny little bone, more like a tooth. I only kept it to keep him safe. I wish I still had it, but it’s long gone. It’s all long gone now.
They have announced the date of my execution. I have just two more weeks in this hag-ridden castle. Two weeks! I never expected things to progress this quickly. It’s not that I fear the noose, far from it, but I cannot die until my work is done. Yet how is it to be managed in so short a time? The prison governor has been unsuccessful and there has been no reply from Scotland. I have failed on every level. I know I deserve to be punished, but not yet. Not yet.
I must find a way out of here.
A jangle of keys. The heavy iron door creaks open. I ready myself. It’s madness to think I’ll be able to escape so easily, but I’m willing to try anything. But instead of the young gullible skivvy, the wardress herself is bringing in my lunch slops. I slump back down on my iron bed, knowing full well that I have no chance of getting past her. She is almost as tall as me and twice as wide. And she’s no fool. She knows full well what I’m capable of. And yet today, her air of gleeful disdain has been replaced by resentment. Why? My breathing quickens–is there a letter from Scotland? But she has other news.
‘The Guv’nor’s finally found a chaplain what’s brave enough to take your last confession.’ She slams the slops on the table, then pauses, expecting a reaction. I do not oblige, even though my heart is pounding in furious delight. ‘Now you can atone for your crimes, can’t ya? And beg for God’s forgiveness.’
She spits on the floor.
‘I do not believe in God.’ I reply before I can stop myself. Fool! Will I ruin this before it even begins?
But she just laughs.
‘Well now! You can tell him that when you see him.’
‘The chaplain?’
‘No, God.’
I turn my back on her, but you cannot walk away in Holloway. Cannot slam a door in a temper. Those luxuries are gone, along with so many others.
When she is gone, slamming the door shut with a clang, I hug my knees. Finally, just as I was about to give up hope, they’ve found me a chaplain. It has begun. But do I have enough time? And what will this brave man be like? What will he expect me to say? That I am sorry for everything I have done? I am not. That I regret it all? I do not.
There is only one thing I truly regret. The first bone.
