Most horror can fall under the sci-fi umbrella. And Erika T. Wurth's White Horse hit all those high points for me.

I actually landed in the science fiction genre through the horror pipeline. I was a Goosebumps kid, read every single book in my school library, and when I was done the librarian handed me a Dean Koontz book from her personal collection. I was a gifted poor kid and she knew my dad didn't have the resources to supply my brain with the challenge I needed, and didn't care at all what I read, so this saint of a woman handed me everything from Koontz to Game of Thrones, and I ate it up. Librarians really are the real heroes.

But back to the pipeline...I'm not a gore girly, I prefer a mind fuck. That's why she gave me Koontz over Stephen King. And listen, Wurth delivers the mind fuck. While I knew from the moment I met the killer who it was, it didn't detract from the horror or the plot, which is frankly impressive, since I get mad every time I correctly guess the ending of a book. Damn you autistic pattern recognition, let me be suprised for once!

Indigenous horror is truly it's own genre, and to me this book proves why it's SO important to diversify publishing. If we didn't have indigenous authors introducing us to their way of story telling, adding richness and culture and something new with every book, the hole in the publishing world would truly be vaster than it already is. Pick up this book!

"Some people are haunted in more ways than one…

Kari James, Urban Native, is a fan of heavy metal, ripped jeans, Stephen King novels, and dive bars. She spends most of her time at her favorite spot in Denver, a bar called White Horse. There, she tries her best to ignore her past and the questions surrounding her mother who abandoned her when she was just two years old.

But soon after her cousin Debby brings her a traditional bracelet that once belonged to Kari’s mother, Kari starts seeing disturbing visions of her mother and a mysterious creature. When the visions refuse to go away, Kari must uncover what really happened to her mother all those years ago. Her father, permanently disabled from a car crash, can’t help her. Her Auntie Squeaker seems to know something but isn’t eager to give it all up at once. Debby’s anxious to help, but her controlling husband keeps getting in the way.

Kari’s journey toward a truth long denied by both her family and law enforcement forces her to confront her dysfunctional relationships, thoughts about a friend she lost in childhood, and her desire for the one thing she’s always wanted but could never have…"