THE GIRL IN THE RED HOOD has been looking for her mother for six months, searching from the depths of New York’s subways to the heights of its skyscrapers . . .
THE PRINCE looks like he’s from another time entirely, or maybe he’s just too good at his job at Ye Old Renaissance Faire . . .
THE ACTRESS is lighting up Hollywood Boulevard with her spellbinding and strikingly convincing portrayal of a famous fairy. Her name may be big, but her secrets barely fit in one world . . .
Fifteen-year-old Crescenzo never would have believed his father’s carvings were anything more than “stupid toys.” All he knows is a boring life in an ordinary Virginia suburb, from which his mother and his best friend have been missing for years. When his father disappears next, all Crescenzo has left is his goofy neighbor, Pietro, who believes he’s really Peter Pan and that Crescenzo is the son of Pinocchio. What’s more: Pietro insists that they can find their loved ones by looking to the strange collection of wooden figurines Crescenzo’s father left behind.
With Pietro’s help, Crescenzo sets off on an adventure to unite the real life counterparts to his figurines. It’s enough of a shock that they’re actually real, but the night he meets the Girl in the Red Hood, dark truths burst from the past. Suddenly, Crescenzo is tangled in a nightmare where magic mirrors and evil queens rule, and where everyone he loves is running out of time.
When Jacob Devlin was four years old, he would lounge around in Batman pajamas and make semi-autobiographical picture books about an adventurous python named Jake the Snake. Eventually, he traded his favorite blue crayon for a black pen, and he never put it down. When not reading or writing, Jacob loves practicing his Italian, watching stand-up comedy, going deaf at rock concerts, and geeking out at comic book conventions. He does most of these things in southern Arizona.
Pino scowled over his mug, then let his mouth curve into a smile. The old Pietro was coming back to the surface. “Anyway, you’ll go? Look for my wife and your family?”
With a sigh, Pietro rubbed his face so hard his eyelids drooped. “Would you come with me?”
Pino wiggled his thumb: click, click, click, click. “Do you not hear my joints crackling?”
“Still?” Pietro rested his elbows on his knees. “What’s happening to you?”
Pino lowered his voice. “My guess is there’s some real dark stuff goin’ on back home. After all, we’re not supposed to be here, and I was once a . . . Well, you know. I’m afraid I won’t get very far out the door, if I can even move anymore in a week.”
Pietro drummed on his lap, shooting air through his teeth as he contemplated. “Fine. I’ll go. But I have a question. When do we tell Crescenzo who we really are?”
“I trust you’ll figure it out, Peter.” Pino winked. “After all, you were the boy who learned how to fly.”