Excerpt from Vita Nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Once settled on the shore, they rented a beach chair and placed it in the usual spot, but for the first time, Sasha did not feel like swimming. She wanted to return home and lock herself up in the apartment. Although, if she thought about it, the door in the apartment was flimsy, made of plywood, a mere illusion covered with ancient faux leather. It was safer here, on the beach, crowded and noisy, with inflatable mattresses floating in the water; a little boy stood knee-deep in the water, and the floatie around his belly was shaped like a swan with a long neck, and the boy was squeezing its pliant white throat.

Mom bought some baklava from a street seller clad in a white apron. Sasha took a long time licking her sticky-sweet fingers, then strolled over to the water to rinse her hands. She walked into the waves, still wearing her plastic flip-flops. The red buoy, a sign of perfection halfway to the horizon, moved gently in the water, the sun reflected in its opaque side. Sasha smiled, shrugging off her tension. And really, such a funny story. Why should she be afraid? In a week she'll be going home, and, seriously, what can he do to her?

She moved deeper into the water, took off her flip-flops, and tossed them onto the beach, aiming far to avoid losing them to a chance wave. She dove, swam a few feet under water, resurfaced, snorted, laughed, and made a beeline for the buoy, leaving behind the shore, the din, the baklava seller, her fear of the dark man ...

In the afternoon they discovered that they'd forgotten to buy oil to fry their fish.

Excerpted from Vita Nostra by Sergey Dyachenko and Marina Dyachenko. Copyright © 2018 by Sergey Dyachenko and Marina Dyachenko. Excerpted by permission of Harper Voyager. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.