
Samantha Montgomery studies bugs for a living and prefers trash heaps to tombs. When a dig shuts down, she heads back to Lammergeier Lane in North Carolina to crash with her mom, Edith. Right away, the neighborhood feels off: a black vulture guards their mailbox, the once colorful house is repainted beige, and a Confederate wedding painting has mysteriously reappeared over the mantle. Most unsettling of all, the rose garden—once alive with bees and beetles—is completely silent. No pollinators. No spiders. Nothing.
Then the house starts spitting out ladybugs by the thousands. A neighbor named Gail, a practical witch with a rescue vulture named Hermes, gently nudges Sam toward a truth Mom can barely say out loud: Gran Mae—the complicated matriarch who raised Edith—might not be gone. As Sam uncovers her great‑grandfather’s history as a notorious “sorcerer” and finds a buried jar of human teeth beneath the roses, the past claws into the present. Roses take shape. Hands press at the glass. And something that shouldn’t exist—Elgar Mills’s “underground children”—wants in.
This is a tight, funny, and deeply creepy Southern Gothic about mothers and daughters, class and control, and how love can protect or smother. It’s told in a warm, conversational voice that keeps you laughing just long enough for the floor to drop out from under you. If you think family drama is scary, wait until the roses wake up.