We chat with author Emma Jackson about A House of Vipers, which is a new dark academia mystery that begins a year after a student’s mysterious disappearance when his brother finds clues that can help him and his friends solve their boarding school’s most elusive puzzle—and find his brother dead or alive.
PLUS you can read an excerpt at the end of the interview!
Hi, Emma! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?
Hi! My name is Emma Jackson and I’m an author of YA mystery and thriller novels. A House of Vipers is my debut—a dark academia mystery taking place at a boarding school in the mountains—and my sophomore novel, When Songbirds Bleed, is a survival thriller slated for summer of 2027.
When I’m not writing, I’m reading absolutely anything I can get my hands on. Mysteries and thrillers tend to be my favorite, but I also love fantasy, romance, and dystopian or apocalyptic stories. My other favorite hobby is playing cozy or choice-based video games like Stardew Valley, Coral Island, Life is Strange, Spiritfarer, and Astro Bot. And perhaps the most important fact about me—I’m a cat person! My husband and I have an orange tabby cat and he is the star of the show in our household.
When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?
When I was in second grade, my class was given an assignment to write a story. I wrote a very short story about myself and a few classmates solving a mystery at a haunted lighthouse. It was very much inspired by Scooby-Doo, and it lit the storytelling spark in my heart. I’d always loved telling stories—my parents recorded several home movies of me doing dramatic readings of the Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood—but this was the first time I realized I could tell stories of my own for others to enjoy. I ended up writing dozens of installments of my mystery story in my composition notebook, and my classmates would all pass it around to read each new edition. I knew from that point on that I wanted to be an author one day!
Quick lightning round! Tell us:
- The first book you ever remember reading: The Babysitter’s Club by Ann M. Martin!
- The one that made you want to become an author: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins helped me realize I wanted to be a YA author!
- The one that you can’t stop thinking about: Most recently, it would be This Raging Sea by De Elizabeth. It wrecked me!
Your debut novel, A House of Vipers, is out April 28th! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?
Does not include real snakes!
What can readers expect?
Readers can expect a tight-knit found family cast that would do anything for each other, a secret society with brutal initiation rituals, ALL the hidden tunnels, an intense love triangle, a mysterious and historical boarding school setting, midnight adventures on campus, and lots of riddles, puzzles, and poems. They can also expect a mystery with clues that they can solve themselves if they’re paying attention, and an ending that gives them all the answers!
Where did the inspiration for A House of Vipers come from?
I wrote the first draft of Vipers in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic when I was spending a lot of time at home. I really needed something fun that felt like an escape, and I started brainstorming ideas that could provide that for me. I knew I wanted to write a story set at a boarding school, but then I watched the first season of Outer Banks on Netflix and was so inspired by the found family group on the show! Once the pieces of the plot materialized in my brain, I’m not sure I’ve ever written a first draft of anything so fast—it was just so fun. I was simply enjoying every minute in that world! The story has evolved quite a bit since then, but at its core, it’s still the story that brought me so much joy during a really dark and stressful time.
Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring?
Weaving a web of interconnections into the mystery was a really fun and rewarding part of writing this book, but I also really enjoyed getting to explore the backstories of the three main characters. They each have a lot going on internally, and they’re complex in their own ways. Grayson’s story in particular is a special one to me. I relate strongly to different aspects of Sutter and Fallon’s personalities and arcs, but getting to know Grayson was different. Going into the first draft, I had a pretty strong image of who I wanted him to be—the broody, strong-and-silent one of the group—but he ended up presenting himself a little differently than I had initially planned for him to. Ultimately, it was important for me to get his arc right, so I spent a lot of time working to understand what motivates him and the things that make him who he is. I hope readers enjoy getting to know him, too!
Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?
The biggest challenge for me with this book (and truthfully, with most of the books I write) was the beginning. I hear other authors often talk about how the middle is the toughest part to write, but for me, it’s always the first few chapters. There’s so much riding on those! You want to hit the ground running and establish a good storytelling pace, but you also want to give enough background information for readers to care about the characters and keep turning pages. I have a tendency when drafting to want to frontload background information, and I had to really refine the early chapters in A House of Vipers so certain pieces of the backstory are revealed later on. Tightening up the beginning was by far the biggest hurdle with this particular story—I worked on it in every single revision.
This is your debut novel! What was the road to becoming a published author like for you?
It’s been a long journey to get here! I signed on with my literary agent when I was 18 years old and right about to start college. From there, we spent 8 years putting my books on submission with publishers before selling my debut. I faced countless rejections during that period of time, but I did the only thing I could do and kept writing. I can look back now and feel grateful for all the experience and knowledge I gained through the path to publication—there have been many lessons learned! I’m thrilled that A House of Vipers will be my first book. It feels right!
What’s next for you?
My next book is called When Songbirds Bleed. It’s a speculative thriller that follows a group of tight-knit childhood friends who endure a dangerous plane crash and are then taken in by a wilderness cult to survive. Ultimately, this book is a coming-of-age story mixed with themes of survival, belonging, manipulation, and the power to choose who you want to be.
My goal when I wrote the first draft of Songbirds was to take the things I loved about my debut and push them to the next level. I hope readers who enjoyed Vipers will want to return to my next book for another found family cast and an even more complicated love triangle! This book means so much to me—I really believe it’s special, and I’m excited to see how readers respond to it.
Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up this year?
An endless amount! Where do I begin? Some unreleased books that I’m so excited to read are You’re Dead to Me, Reed Walker by Gwenyth Reitz, In Case I Go Missing by R.N. Swann, The Heirs by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, and Bound by Fury by Noelle Monét. But there are truly too many to name!
EXCERPT
Section from Chapter 5
Fallon and her friends spent the evening doing whatever they could to make Sutter feel better.
They played cards in the common room. They visited the snack bar in the dining hall and were pleased to find fresh, melty chocolate chip cookies and milk awaiting them. They had a video game tournament, in which Margot won several rounds of Fortnite before the boys gave up trying to beat her and resorted to watching a new Netflix comedy.
One minute, Fallon was curled up on top of Carter’s new beanbag, watching the first ten minutes of the film. The next, she was opening her bleary eyes and peering around the dim room, wondering when it had gotten so quiet.
The bright, warm movie had cast a comforting glow over the room, and it must have lulled them all to sleep. Margot was asleep on the floor. Grayson was bundled in a comforter at the foot of his bed, and Carter was snoring.
The space Sutter had occupied was empty.
Fallon stood, shaking off her sleepiness, and crept to the door. The hallway was empty and quiet—no sign of Sutter.
Before she could surrender to the panic rising in her chest, she reminded herself that she knew Sutter. She knew exactly where he’d gone, tonight of all nights.
Fallon slipped her shoes on, careful not to wake the others. She tiptoed out of the room and toward the fire escape window at the end of the hallway, which she silently prayed Sutter had left open a smidge. They weren’t the easiest to open, despite being meant for escape—the locks were old and tight, and the windows themselves were heavy.
Fallon and her friends knew better than to use the fire escape often. It was the easiest way to sneak out past curfew, but it wasn’t foolproof. A prefect could easily hear feet clanging on the metal stairs or see you through one of the windows.
They’d never been caught, though. They were careful. And as much as Fallon hated taking risks like this, hated bending the rules in any scenario, she didn’t like the idea of Sutter crossing campus alone right now. Not after the day they’d had.
Besides, Sutter and the others brought out a rebellious side in her. She was only just now getting used to it, after two years of friendship. She was still the voice of reason in their group, but lately that voice had been a bit . . . quieter.
She found the window left slightly ajar. Bingo. As quietly as she could, she shoved it open, slipped out into the night, and descended the ladder.
The courtyard wasn’t far, and when she made it there, she saw Sutter approaching from the opposite direction. He had a baseball bat resting on his shoulder, and a silver flask clutched in his other hand glinted in the moonlight. Fallon was pretty sure she’d seen it peeking out of Mr. Heyward’s pocket at the ceremony.
Sutter stopped short when he saw her, swaying a little on his feet.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he mumbled.
“Hey, you,” she said, her heart skipping a beat.
“That movie sucked.” His words were runny, leaning into each other.
Fallon managed a smile. “So I didn’t miss much?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
She kicked at a rock on the ground. “Didn’t know you played baseball.”
He glanced at the bat in his hand. “Oh, yeah, well . . . I don’t.” “Did you take that from the Ace?” He’d come from the direction of the school sports complex—it wasn’t hard for Fallon to put two and two together.
He lowered the bat and let the tip of it touch the ground. “Maybe.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
He sighed, turning to the stone wreath with the etching of his older brother at its center. Lawson’s smiling face looked so much like Sutter’s. Lawson’s face was rounder than his brother’s narrower features. His hair was a little lighter, closer to blond than to Sutter’s brown, stick-straight hair. But Sutter kept it neatly combed, a lot like Lawson had, and that alone made them look almost exactly alike.
There were dozens of flowers and teddy bears, small gifts people had placed around the plaque. Sutter stared at them with disgust.
“I’m gonna smash this stupid fucking plaque until it’s dust,” he said.
“Sutter,” Fallon murmured. She stepped toward him, and only then could she see the tremble in his hands, the glisten in his bloodshot eyes. He didn’t look so angry anymore. He just looked heartbroken.
Fallon knew good and well where Sutter’s head was, where his heart was. He fully believed his brother was alive. He always said things like Lawson’s a fighter and Lawson knows how to take care of himself. He looked at his older brother the way a little kid might look at a superhero, even after all this time.
Even though Lawson had shoved Sutter to the floor and left him there, confused and hurt.
Sutter didn’t talk about that night much unless he was tracking down clues, searching for answers, laying out evidence. That was the only reason why Fallon knew about the brothers’ interaction that night before Lawson left campus for the last time. If Sutter hadn’t actively searched for Lawson and tried to deter- mine where he disappeared to, she wasn’t sure Sutter would’ve ever admitted how callously his brother had acted, how coldly. Sutter didn’t want to admit that hurt to anyone—maybe not even to himself.
But Fallon knew better. Beneath Sutter’s simmering rage was an untamed grief dealing damage she could only imagine. She knew because while she’d endured her own losses, she couldn’t fathom not knowing what had happened to her parents, not knowing where they’d gone.
“Fallon,” Sutter said, his voice wavering. “I have to do something. If they’re putting memorials up for him, that means they’ll . . .”
He trailed off, but Fallon knew what he would have said. Putting memorials up meant people were moving on. People were forgetting and needed a way to keep Lawson’s memory alive. People thought he was dead.
“I know,” she said. She was right in front of him now. Slowly, she reached for the bat, gripped it with her fingers, and gently pulled it from his hand. Sutter let go, shoulders wilting. The flask fell to the ground with a hollow thunk.
“He’s not dead,” he murmured. His eyes overflowed.
“I know,” she whispered again.
She put her hands behind his neck, pulled him close. His head rested heavily on her shoulder, and his chest shuddered against hers. His hands moved up to hold her back, so she hugged him tighter. The pressure of his fingertips sent shivers dancing across her skin.
Crickets chirped and sang around them. The starry night was like a cocoon holding them together, tucked away from the rest of the world. Only for a moment did Fallon wonder how many times she’d longed to hold him—but not like this, not when he was in so much pain. She couldn’t wish this grief upon anyone, especially not him.
Gently, she pulled back and cupped his face in her hands.
“Look at me, Sutter,” she whispered. “You’re going to figure this out, one way or another, and we’ll all be with you. I’ll be right there the whole time. I promise.”
He looked back at her, tears streaming down his cheeks. But there was something different in his gaze now, something new.
It looked a lot like longing. Like desire.
Then he was leaning in, and Fallon’s heart stuttered in her chest—what was he doing? But she couldn’t move, wouldn’t move, because this . . . with him . . .
His lips pressed against hers. Soft, warm, and so gentle. He tasted like the spice of the liquor he’d been drinking. She kissed him back, and her heart flipped in her chest. Her entire body ached for him, yearned for him.
Sutter. Sutter. Sutter.
He kissed her again, and again. His fingertips grazed her back, climbing toward her hair, and then—
She remembered where she was, what was happening. Sutter was in pieces right now. He was completely vulnerable, and while she wanted nothing more than to let him keep kissing her, to let his hands travel across her body, to let this moment last as long as it possibly could . . . it wouldn’t be right for it to be this moment, of all moments. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
“Wait,” Fallon whispered, pulling away. Sutter’s face fell. “What . . . ?”
“You’re upset, Sutter,” she said. Her voice shook, nervousness shooting through every inch of her body. “You’ve been drinking . . . I . . . wouldn’t feel right if . . .”
Realization dawned on his face, and Fallon’s stomach dropped, because that look—it wasn’t the one she wanted to see.
It was embarrassment. It was doubt and confusion.
It was regret.
“I’m an idiot,” he said. “I’m an idiot . . . I’m so sorry, Fallon, I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” Fallon said quickly. “Sutter, no, I wanted to—”
“We can forget about it,” he murmured, his words layering over hers before she could finish. “Really, I’m . . . so sorry. I mean . . . we’re friends . . . you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t . . . I’m so sorry.”
Fallon’s heart sank as she realized what he was saying. Friends. That’s what they were. That’s what they should be, what they had to be.
That’s what Sutter really wanted. This moment never should have happened.
Fallon nodded numbly, turning her head so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. “It’s okay,” she promised, her voice nearly a whisper. “You’re right, let’s forget about it. We should get back before a prefect notices we’re gone.”
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes still glistening, but it looked like all the life—the anger, sadness, everything—had left them.
“Yeah, okay . . . okay.” Sutter glanced at the baseball bat now lying on the ground. “I should take that back to the Ace, or I’ll have the wrath of Coach Hamilton to deal with.” He tried to laugh, but it was a broken sound. He took a few steps and grasped the bat with one hand, but then he froze, his eyes locked on the memorial plaque.
Fallon frowned. “Sutter?”
“What’s that?” he asked. He dropped the bat again, and it rolled at his feet. He walked toward the plaque surrounded by gifts and reached behind it. When he turned to face Fallon, he held a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. She could barely make out the wax seal holding the wrapping in place.
“Maybe we should just leave it there,” Fallon said hesitantly. “It might not—”
But the words died in her throat when Sutter stepped closer and turned over the tag attached to the parcel to reveal the words there, written in block letters.
For: Sutter Heyward
