We are thrilled to be revealing the cover for Catherine Yu’s The Devil’s In The Dancers, which is a sapphic horror about fighting the system set at an elite ballet academy, think Suspiria meets Gorgeous Gruesome Faces.
Releasing on August 26th 2025, read on to discover the synopsis and the cover, PLUS we have the first chapter too for you to take a peek at! You can pre-order your copy here.
Accepted to the prestigious summer ballet intensive at Allegra Academy on scholarship, sixteen-year-old Mars Chang is thrust into the world of wealthy—and she’s determined to stay.
Mars’s annoyingly attractive roommate, Alex Bechler, has everything: she’s effortlessly cool and easily one of the best dancers in the school. Her big pharma family founded the academy and they’re on the verge of launching a new supplement, APL, to make them even richer. So when the head of the academy tasks Mars to secretly switch Alex’s supplements with APL in exchange for a chance at year-round enrollment, Mars agrees.
Since Mars already knows nothing at the academy is fair, she decides to help a fellow scholarship student by giving her some APL supplements. At first pills give the girl an instant edge in class, but when they also produce terrifying side effects, Mars suspects that APL might not be safe and that the Bechler’s might not have Alex’s best interests at heart.
But how can Mars convince Alex that her leading role in the recital might literally kill her?
Chapter One
The smell of summer roses lingered long after I’d left the Oliver Bechler II Memorial Garden. I hurried through clusters of girls walking in groups of two and three along the stone paths, staring at the text message Ethan had sent me over an hour ago.
need to talk asap. call me when you can
I couldn’t find cell reception anywhere. A circle of giant silver statues loomed above me, their hands outstretched toward the bright blue cloudless sky, while a water fountain bubbled and frothed in intervals between their perfect metal bodies.
This academy certainly didn’t skimp when it came to decadence.
I had zero bars by the pond. White swans drifted across the tranquil water, side-eyeing me like proper mean girls while I strode past them, waving my phone around wildly like maybe that would help with my terrible signal.
Horrible scenarios played out in my mind. What if Ethan had gotten into an accident? Or what if something bad had happened to Mom? She’d dropped me off at Allegra Academy only a few hours ago. The highway back to Clarksville was terrible, especially since it also funneled city traffic.
I’d jumped out of the minivan without so much as saying goodbye to her, immediately checking in with a dance instructor instead. But what if Mom got into a car crash or something? What if it happened partly because of our fight on the way to campus? About how much makeup I was wearing.
Of all things to die over.
I knew it was easier to get riled up than to calm down. I breathed in and out, taking in my serene surroundings. Relax, I told myself.
The silver statues’ smiles remained perfectly placid. Birds trilled from pink flowering trees. Gleaming white steps led up to pristinely polished glass doors. Everything was in the right place. Well ordered.
Nothing bad could happen in a place like this. I knew this was going to be the perfect summer . . . just as soon as I confirmed with Ethan that no one back home had died or anything like that.
I finally found some signal once I got through the imposingly large doors of the main facility. The entrance bore the school crest—a white snake coiled above a red-and-white-patterned shield, flanked by black antelopes on their hind legs, with a banner below with the words PER ARDUA AD ALTA.
Through effort to higher things.
I fixed my posture reflexively, even though no one was watching me. A steady stream of air-conditioning cooled my flushed cheeks. My steps echoed against the floor, louder than I intended.
I felt severely underdressed in my simple floral-patterned shirt and matching skirt, even though there was no dress code outside of studio hours. The brochure encouraged us to “come as you are,” but apparently what that meant varied. Wildly.
I’d seen girls here with tennis bracelets and bags that probably cost more than our monthly rent. They were already posted by the reflecting pool, sunbathing on white beach towels. Some of them were even openly drinking wine.
They could afford to break the rules, but I couldn’t. So I snuck into the bathroom down the main hall. Once I was sure I was alone, I finally called Ethan back.
One ring. Then two. He finally picked up on the third.
“I’m not supposed to be on my phone,” I whispered. “Is everything okay?”
His voice was muffled and distracted. Like it had been for the past few weeks. He sounded further away than ever. “Yeah,” he said, after a beat of silence. “Things are going great, actually.”
I knew he’d been busy between summer tutoring and working on his start-up. I had no idea what his business plan was, but he seemed confident in the idea of an app connecting students to whatever “virtual mentors” were supposed to be. And he was passionate about it, so I wasn’t going to prod too much.
“You’ve been a great girlfriend, Mars,” he continued. “Supportive and gorgeous. One of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, yeah.” Then I frowned. “What do you mean, one of the hottest?”
A loud bang outside the door. Fuck. Someone else was coming into the bathroom. My brief respite of privacy was shattered.
I scrambled into the nearest stall, listening to Ethan tell me about how life was a lot more complicated than he expected. The other person who’d come into the bathroom was also busy talking on the phone. Not a dance instructor coming to reprimand me, thankfully—but whoever it was sure was loud.
“It’s just six weeks,” I heard her argue. “We can make it work, Harper. I’ll be back in August.”
“Mars?” Ethan’s voice was a little hesitant. “So do you think you could give me your blessing?”
“What?” I’d totally missed what he’d said previously because of the sudden interruption.
“I want to stay friends with you,” he said solemnly. “You’re a good person.”
A horrible premonition was sneaking up on me. But it was hard to comprehend what Ethan was saying, especially with all the arguing coming from the other stall. I muted myself and tried to crane my head to see who the other person was, but the wall between us was too high.
“Could you please shut up?” I snapped. “I got here first.”
“Fuck off,” the other girl shot back. “I’m in the middle of an important call. It’s my girlfriend.”
“Well, I’m on a call with my boyfriend,” I said, before the realization set in.
I want to stay friends. Ethan was breaking up with me.
I unmuted. “What the hell?” I asked, exasperated. “Why?”
Through the unsteady connection, his sigh was tinny and irritated. I could picture him pacing his room, tapping his second-favorite ballpoint pen—Pilot G2, 0.7mm, because the Montblanc was an heirloom, just for display—against his desk like he did whenever he got annoyed. “I already told you why. Were you not listening at all? Madison and I have been getting really close these past few weeks. You’re both great girls, but I have to follow this connection and try something new.”
My mind drew a blank. I couldn’t think of a single Madison from our grade. In fact, there was only one person named Madison that I’d even heard of, and that was from Ethan himself. He’d mentioned her so casually that she didn’t even register until this moment.
“Wait, you’re breaking up with me to date the freshman you were tutoring?”
“Please don’t make me the bad guy here, Mars. We’ve known each other for too long to stoop to these silly games, right? I know this might be hard for you initially, but at least you’re away for the summer. I could even set you up with a mentor that specializes in processing relationship breakups. We’re actually starting to look for beta test—”
I hung up. Then I screamed into my own palm.
The other girl swore. “Damn. Could you be quieter, please?”
She hadn’t made a single concession for my call, so there was no reason for me to be courteous to her. As soon as I left the stall, I splashed my face with cold water from the bathroom sink and swiped a new layer of pink gloss across my lips.
The girl in the mirror looked good enough. One of the hottest, allegedly, if one could believe the words of a cheater. I was a little red-eyed, but I could always blame summer allergies if anyone asked.
I walked back through the long corridor, straightening my spine as I passed the bronze busts bearing the names of generous alumni. Here was a titan of industry, there was a philanthropist and lover of the arts. My steps were lighter this time around, befitting this hallowed institution.
It wasn’t until I got outside that my shoulders finally slumped forward. I blinked back humiliated tears. I knew I was in no condition to make small talk at the afternoon welcome tea, even though it was probably my best chance of making friends with any of the girls.
My boyfriend had just broken up with me. My mom was mad at me. And I’d probably already made one enemy at Allegra Academy, thanks to my outburst in the bathroom.
Maybe college admissions officers would be impressed by how fast I could ruin everything. Not only was I decent at taking tests, but I also excelled at alienating everyone around me. I played varsity when it came to talking back to my elders. I was the president of getting dumped. If I put the right spin on my situation—maybe I could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with girls whose mothers were on the board of trustees and whose family names were emblazoned across well-known institutions all over the world, from art museums and concert halls to, of course, banks.
Though if my experience at Allegra Academy so far was any indication, I knew I’d be on the outside looking in. Wishing, wanting, fuming.
Maybe I could pretend a little bit. I knew I could match these girls inside the studio, so why not on the outside as well? They didn’t have to know I was only here because of a scholarship.
And I would be damned if I let Ethan ruin my whole summer.
I did not flip off the hissing swans in the pond, although I was sorely tempted to. I followed the map an instructor had handed us during orientation, over a stone bridge, past the yellow daffodil hill, and into a greenhouse decorated with twinkling fairy lights.
Lush greenery everywhere. There were multitiered trays of tiny tea sandwiches, but no one was eating. Was eating considered gauche or something?
Someone—probably a music school student doing the summer gig routine—was playing early classical music on a harp. There were dark circles under her eyes and a coffee stain on her white collared shirt.
“Enjoying yourself?” a woman asked me warmly.
I’d been immediately spotted by a dance instructor. Her gauzy black dress billowed like a dark cloud around her. Despite the flowing fabric, it was clear she was wafer-thin.
“It can be overwhelming at first, but I’m sure you’ll settle in nicely, especially when you meet some of the other girls from your floor,” she told me.
I hated feeling so exposed. “How did you know I’ve never been here before?”
The woman sidestepped my question, but her eyes lingered on my clothes. Immediately, I made a mental note to never wear this particular outfit again.
I did not eat any of the tiny cucumber or egg sandwiches offered to me. I sipped tea gingerly and lingered on the outskirts of a few groups of girls. I excused myself whenever anyone used the word summering. To my knowledge, summer had always been a season, not a verb.
Pressure was mounting inside my chest. I tried to hold onto the initial feeling of ripping open the acceptance letter. That bright, irrepressible bloom of I finally made it. Dancing around the kitchen like a total freak while Mom called all our relatives abroad to brag on me. My daughter is going to Allegra Academy. What an incredible opportunity; what amazing odds. A Bechler Fellow, to boot. All expenses paid.
I was finally going places.
And right now, that place was definitely away from the welcome tea. I needed breathing room, badly. I ghosted the greenhouse without saying goodbye to anyone. Not that these girls would miss me.
I roamed through the expansive grounds, watching the light bounce off the side of the main facility’s long glass windows until dusk cloaked everything in indigo-blue. The hours seemed to pass more quickly—and painlessly—when I was alone.
I finally walked back toward the residential hall, anticipating a relaxing evening of painting my nails and falling asleep early to ambient music. I knew that tomorrow the camp would begin in earnest. I had to save up all the energy I could muster.
I climbed the four flights of stairs, feeling a small ache in my calves already and knowing it’d be nothing compared to the pain of pointe class. Ornate carpet squished under my feet. The whole place smelt faintly of cigarettes, which were strictly prohibited, and yet.
I wondered which of the girls didn’t mind bending the rules. Surely not anyone like me, from Nowhere, USA. Not when we’d finally made it here.
At least tonight, I could relax a little. I was grateful to have my own room at the end of the hall. I’d rather eat glue than be stuck with a roommate who summered.
But the door to the room was wide open. Someone was already in it, playing loud music. I strode over to her briskly.
“Excuse me,” I told the girl, as pleasantly as I could manage. “But this is my room.”
She looked up from the other twin bed and lowered the volume on the speakers she’d propped onto the shelf in the corner, but only marginally. Her ears were both studded with silver rings. Heavy black boots rested against the side of the wall. My side of the wall.
“I got moved,” she said wryly. “My friend Naomi decided—practically last minute—that she needed a single. No idea why, but yeah. Here I am.”
I forced myself to smile. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Marianne—Mars Chang.”
“We met earlier, actually. Well, not met, exactly. But I saw you leaving right when I was coming out of the bathroom.”
It was just my luck that I’d be rooming with someone I’d already gotten into a fight with. “Great.”
“Yeah.” She stared up at the ceiling. “This isn’t what I wanted either, but Naomi needed her own space. She’s been having a hard summer, so they moved me here.”
“Do you have a name, by the way? Or should I just refer to you as Harper’s girlfriend?”
“So you do remember me!” Her voice was cheerfully deadpan. “I’m guessing you’d rather go by Mars than Ethan’s ex? Also, ouch. He broke up with you for a freshman?”
Six weeks, I reminded myself. I’d be living with this person for six weeks, so I had to reign in the bickering.
“I’m Alex,” she finally said. “And I really am sorry. That call sounded rough, even from the other side of the wall.”
She didn’t dress like most of the other girls here. No tennis bracelet or preppy co-ords in sight. Just a whole lot of black everywhere. Big black bag and big black boots.
“Thanks. Do you happen to have a last name, or are you aiming for more of a Zendaya moment?”
The side of her cheek twitched. Her black eyes flared, almost defiantly. “Bechler. I’m Alex Bechler, but I’d prefer just Alex, okay?”
My fight-or-flight mode instantly activated. Both options seemed pretty good right now, but I just stood there, trying to disguise how unsettled and uncomfortable I felt.
It was thanks to her family that I was even able to participate in this summer program. A scholarship student and a Bechler, rooming together. Lovely. Certainly I would not develop any
hangups or resentments because of this.
“Sure thing,” I said, lying out of the side of my mouth. “I’ll remember to think of you as Just Alex then.”
“I’m not—” she started. Cheeks flushing. But whatever she wasn’t, she couldn’t seem to articulate to me. And I knew one thing she certainly was: a Bechler.
A Bechler who’d already taken up more than half of the room and could definitely get me kicked out if I so much as annoyed her. All she had to do was whisper one word to one of the dance instructors, and I’d be gone. Just like that.
So I made my bed, climbed in, and avoided saying another word to her. I couldn’t afford to get on her bad side.
Cover designed by Rosie Stewart and illustrated by Clémence Gouy
About The Author
Catherine Yu writes dark speculative fiction. She is the author of Direwood and Helga, and her short fiction has appeared in Fantasy Magazine and the Death in the Mouth horror anthology. She was born in Nanjing and is now based in New York.
