For the entire month of October I’ll be finding fiction for different supernatural creatures, just to see if it’s worth buying. (And maybe even beyond. I’ve discovered that I’m trash for urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels. My Kindle is now loaded with a random assortment of both. They quickly outstripped the fluffy contemporaries, YA fare, and historical fiction that used to rule harmoniously.)

But even if it’s not: a tasty recipe awaits.

Last spring, Shea Ernshaw’s debut YA novel, The Wicked Deep, was all the rage.

I bought it because of the summary. It sounded like a less campy riff off Hocus Pocus and called to me like a siren’s song. But I quickly put it on one of my shelves and forgot about it, because I have a book-buying problem. But, at least I admit it. I finally read it for the sake of this column and oh my gosh. I should’ve read it as soon as I brought it home. But, I’m glad I actually, finally got around to it.