Glinhaven by Deborah O'Toole is a traditional gothic fiction novel similar in style to classic 1970s paperbacks written by Dorothy Daniels, Marilyn Harris, Victoria Holt, Marilyn Ross (aka Dan Curtis), and Phyllis Whitney.


Piper Hunt leaves Boston to take over her grandfather's unique curio shop in Glinhaven. While adjusting to life in the quaint seaside village, she uncovers dark secrets hidden at the forbidding Glinhaven Monastery which may unlock mysteries from her past.

Glinhaven Monastery drips with sinister eeriness, especially at night when bone-chilling fog rolls in from churning North Shore sea waters. The centuries-old stone structure appears as a hulking ghost in the mist, its walls bloated with history and unspeakable secrets. Yellow light from carriage-style lamps intensify the monastery's forbidding effect, the black-squared globes positioned in four-foot intervals on massive walls which surround the holy nucleus, gazed upon in deadly fear by residents of Glinhaven Village . . .

From the Prologue

DUNCAN MOCHRIE SAT ON A tall barstool behind the smoky-glass counter of his curio shop. He was somewhat out of breath by the trek back from Glinhaven Monastery, and slightly damp from the misty fog.

The Thistle curio shop was located on Main Street in Glinhaven Village, displaying aisles of knick-knacks, books and other Scottish and Celtic sundry. The shop was dark now, long past closing time. A small nautical lantern-style desk lamp illuminated the counter, giving Duncan just enough light in which to write.

He gazed fondly at his jet-black Scottish Fold, Sith, who sat calmly on the counter next to him. The cat had great yellow eyes and a clumsy nature, although in his mind he was elegantly appointed. The barest hint of a white spot adorned his chest, offsetting the onyx black of his fur. He watched with great interest as Duncan wrote quickly.

The shop was eerily quiet apart from the sound of Duncan's ballpoint pen scratching across a sheath of white paper. He was not at a loss for words, but wanted to get his thoughts down while they were still fresh in his mind. The hastily scribed note was addressed to his granddaughter.

A noise from upstairs caused Duncan to pause in his writing. He glanced apprehensively toward the staircase leading to the upper floor, where his apartment over the shop was located. He listened intently for a moment, but heard no other sounds. He continued to write, intent on his task.

He stopped writing after a few minutes, his ears alert to sounds from upstairs again. He heard distinct hissing and growling, which could only come from Sith's mother, the indomitable Moggy Malone Mochrie. She was a white and cream fold with blue eyes, who typically spent the evening on Duncan's bed in the apartment above, but enjoyed wandering the shop during the day. She was a feisty one, his Moggy Malone, giving birth to Sith after mating with the black male Milo from the monastery, after which she chased him off every time she saw him. If Moggy was hissing and growling in the dark, something was surely amiss.

Duncan hesitated only briefly, but then gathered the sheet of paper in his hand. He walked around the counter near the base of the staircase and headed to the aisle directly adjacent. The display housed a collection of first-edition books of Scottish origin. At random, he grabbed a book from the shelf. Glancing down, he noticed it was the 1941 printing of The Monarch of the Glen by Compton Mackenzie. After folding the piece of paper in half, he slid it between the pages of the book and returned it to its place on the shelf.

He heard light footsteps in the upper corridor. Frowning, Duncan made his way to the staircase. He was part-way up the steps when he saw a dark figure at the top, inky black and silently menacing.

"Who the hell are you?" Duncan demanded, angered by the intrusion. "And what in blue blazes are you doing here?"

In a flash, the dark figure darted down the stairs and pushed against Duncan's chest with force. Duncan fell backward, tumbling to the bottom of the staircase and landing on his back. Momentarily stunned, he was still for a few seconds.

The dark figure suddenly stood over him, face masked by the blackness. The intruder fell upon Duncan before he had a chance to move or cry out, jabbing him in the neck with a slender, sharp object.

The pain was intense, yet brief. Duncan felt himself slip away into oblivion.


GLINHAVEN ©Deborah O'Toole. All rights reserved.

"Glinhaven" may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the author. "Glinhaven" is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.