Exclusive Cover Reveal + Excerpt: Ben Alderson’s The Haunting of William Thorn

Fantasy author Ben Alderson is having a moment. A popular BookTuber turned author, the first three self-published novels of his spicy Realm of Fey series were reissued by Angry Robot Books (with gorgeous new covers!) last Fall, and the highly anticipated final installment is set to arrive this May. But that’s not the only Alderson title headed our way in 2025, and his next project is a very different sort of story. 

A split timeline queer romance set against the backdrop of a haunted English manor, The Haunting of William Thorn is a tale of present-day loss and long-ago heartbreak, as its titular character deals with a personal tragedy even as he finds solace in the story of a 1920s gay couple who met a heartbreaking end. Full of atmosphere and longing, it’s a mysterious twisty story about the ways our stories are built—sometimes quite literally—on the bones of the past.

(And there’s not a fey magic user in sight.)

Here’s how the publisher describes the story. 

William Thorn had his life all planned out… until his long-term boyfriend Archie cheats, breaking his heart. Distraught, William kicks him out of their home, where tragedy strikes when Archie is killed instantly in a car accident.

Riddled with guilt, William is shocked to learn that he’s inherited a manor in the quaint village of Stonewall, left to him in Archie’s will. He leaves the city with plans to make a new start for himself, but is shocked by the rundown state of the manor, and the unwelcoming villagers who want him gone. His only ally is Edward, a seemingly friendly local with secrets of his own. 

However, it’s not only the villagers who are averse to his presence. A malevolent spirit roams the manor, one that seeks to drive William out for good. But when he uncovers the heartbreaking tale of two men in love in the 1920’s, William strives to find peace for the spirit, ending the haunting once and for all. 

But what dark secrets lie hidden in the manor walls? And will William be able to put aside his own grief to save his new home…and his life?

The Haunting of William Thorn won’t be released until September 9, 2025, but we’ve got a first look at the gorgeous (and, yes, haunting) cover for you right now, as well as an exclusive excerpt from the story itself to help tide you over.

Cover Designer: Sarah O’Flaherty 

Chapter 5

William woke to the violent sound of banging. His eyes flung open, neck aching from the bent angle he’d been sleeping in. It took his tired mind a moment to register that the flood of light in the room was not because of the fire that had spread whilst he slept.

Morning was upon him. Instant regret from downing the bottle of wine accosted him as his head echoed alongside the bang, bang, bang. William clutched the side of his head, groaning like a spoilt child, wincing against the bright streams of dawn that stirred dust motes to dance.

He kept still, listening out for the noise again but nothing happened. Perhaps it had been the sharp pain in his head that woke him after all.

William had fallen asleep on the sofa at some point while reading Robert’s journal. He lifted a hand and massaged the stiff muscles in his neck. He smacked his clammy tongue, brushing his mouth with the back of his hand until a smear of dried red flecks came off on his skin. Instead of taking himself to bed like a normal person, he’d now suffer consequences.

“I’m never drinking again,” William announced to no one but himself and the glowing embers that smoldered in the fireplace. “Actually, that’s a full-blown lie, and I know it.”

Taking the phone from his pocket, he turned it on. When the screen brightened, his eyes first went to the time— 10:33 a.m. —then to the red battery bar, which flashed next to the no signal symbol.

Responsibilities reared their ugly head. He needed to get the electrics working as soon as possible. But he barely had time to contemplate getting up from the sofa to continue his hunt for the fuse box when the banging started again.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

It was certainly not his sore head to blame, which only made matters worse because the sound was coming from his front door.

William stood quickly, recognizing the thud of a journal falling from his lap to the floor. He reached for the fire poker he consciously kept close, ready to use it against whoever was rudely smashing fists against the front door.

His mind went to last night, when the noises upstairs had given him a moment of fright—except this time, the sound wasn’t above him. He paced slowly beyond the door to the living room and out into the connective corridor. The banging stormed through the quiet manor, filling every pocket of still silence and ruining it.

He stood at the end of the corridor, squinting at the front door ahead of him.

Just beyond it, past the frosted glass, was the outline of a person. At least he hoped it was a person and not the threat of ghosts the shopkeeper had been muttering about. More so because the fire poker wouldn’t hurt a ghost, and William was ready to swing it like Tiger Woods directly at the person’s head.

“I can see you!” A muffled yet very deep voice shouted as the banging ceased.

William’s dread spread down him at the pure accusation in the man’s voice. He couldn’t find the words to reply with, so he tightened his grip on the fire poker and closed in on the door.

“No shit,” he muttered to himself, dog-slippered feet shuffling against old wooden floors.

The shape beyond the glass shifted. A hand pressed into it, and the blurred face followed it. Whoever was outside was now peeking in. Then the door handle began to rattle, and William’s hungover fear turned to anger.

William stormed the last steps toward the door, snatched the key from the hook beside it, stabbed it into the lock and turned it. He pulled the door wide, profanities rising to his tongue.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” William shouted as a man came into view.

He was taller than William by enough inches to make him crane his neck upward. As he did, the bright light of day cast a sudden glint into William’s eyes, blinding him for a moment as the fury of the intruder’s voice barrelled into him.

“Me?” the stranger barked, deep russet eyes wide and full of allegation. “From my standing, I’m not the one invading someone else’s home. What are you doing?”

William held the fire poker aloft in one hand and the keys to the manor in the offer. “This is my home.”

“Claiming squatter’s rights?” He cooked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Is that what this is?”

“No, I⎯” William pressed a finger into his thumping temple. “I think there has clearly been some misunderstanding.”

The man barged towards William, almost slamming his broad shoulder into his chest. William side-stepped, the brush of winds passing him, as the man entered inside— uninvited.

The unwanted guest walked with a long stride. He took a sharp left into the front room of the manor, William giving chase after him, body tensing as a result of this stranger’s brash attitude. “Get out—”

William silenced himself as he took in the sudden change in the man’s demeanor. He stood in the middle of the front room, surrounded by mountains of furniture covered in dust sheets. The stranger’s gaze was focused on a dominating portrait of a young man that hung with pride of place on the wall before him.

The curtains were partially open in this room, allowing beams of sunlight to cast into it. Dust danced within the strands of gold light, twisting and moving in tandem with the turn of the man’s body as he faced William. A look of pure embarrassment cast across his face, drawing the thick brows down over his sky-blue eyes.

“Hey, dick-head,” William shouted, breathless from the little excursion. “Get out of my house.”

The stranger turned his back on the portrait, fixing eyes on William where he stood. “This house belongs to the Thomas family.”

Archie Thomas, and his allusive ancestors.

“Belonged,” William spat, fist tightening on the poker. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I just… purchased this building. Which means you are trespassing.”

He didn’t mean to lie, but William thought it was best not to tell this stranger about his recently dead ex and the gift he left in his will for him.

“You purchased Hanbury Manor?” The man asked, his voice peaking with almost amusement. Eyes traced William up then down, drinking every possible detail in. “You are rather young looking to run a house like this.”

“And I’d say you don’t look like a prick, but then again I know one when I see one,” William bit back, trembling with rage. “I’m going to give you five seconds to leave or I’m calling the police.”

The left corner of the stranger’s mouth quirked up. “With what signal?”

William swung the poker, all to the man’s amusement. Arms raised in defeat, he took cautious steps back whilst William’s mind raced with categorizing the danger before him.

In all, the stranger didn’t look like a psychopath murderer. He wore a knitted sleeveless jumper above a white shirt unbuttoned at his neck. William took him all in, from the brown of his hair—parted down the middle and hung in curtains on either side of his sharp face—to the polished boots and tweed trousers.

They stared at one another, both equally as confused as the next. Then the stranger seemed to grow taller, as if realisation had sunk in. “I think I’ve made a little bit of a mistake.”

“You think?” William snapped, registering the way this man looked at the fire poker with trepidation, as if it was the first time he noticed it.

“Edward,” he said quickly, sticking out a hand between them.

William didn’t move a muscle. “Oh good, first name basis. If that’s the case then I’ll say it a different way. Get out of my house, Edward.”

Edward pulled a face that read ‘I’ve really stuck my foot in it’. Lowering his hand to his side, fingers flexing he said. “And you are?”

“The owner of this house! Out!”

Edward laughed. His chuckle was as rich as dark chocolate, able to calm any situation. Except William didn’t like dark chocolate enough to dampen his annoyance that this stranger had just barged into his home armed with insults.

“There is nothing funny about someone breaking into my home.” William couldn’t work out if the laugh was because Edward knew he had no phone signal or because the threat from the police was not actually a threat at all to him.

Maybe this Edward was the person hiding out in the attic at night and walking about? Or the person William was almost confident now that he’d seen slinking between the trees in his gardens.

“Oh, but I agree. Forgive me…” Edward paused to gather himself. “When I’m nervous I can’t stop myself from laughing. Bad habit.”

“Like breaking into people’s homes?”

He ran a hand down the back of his head. “Yes, something like that.”

Edward narrowed his eyes and gestured toward William as though he were waiting for something.

“What?” William barked.

“If I’m to properly apologize perhaps I can at least have your name?”

At least? The fucking cheek of it. Regardless, William found the answer falling out of him. “William.”

Edward rolled his shoulders back, testing the name on silent lips. “Forgive me, Will.”

Irritation itched across the back of William’s neck. “I said my name is William.”

Edward’s smile widened until his eyes were shining with it. “Call the police; it would be justified. But this is an awfully long way out for them to come, and I hardly imagine they would be pleased to find me being the one accused of breaking and entering.”

“Known to them already, are you?” William asked, fingers gripping the fire poker tighter. “Stonewell’s very own odd-ball who breaks into people’s homes.”

“I did not break into⎯”

William jolted the poker towards him. “Then what do you call this!”

“Steady there, William…” Edward made certain to say his name slowly and without missing vowels. “I suggest you put down that poker before you do some damage with it.”

That’s kind of the point.

“Get. Out.” The snarl broke out of William, sharpening the headache the hangover left to new heights of intensity.

Edward raised both hands in surrender. “Does this mean you won’t be requiring my services?”

“Services?” William spat out the word as though it had a sour taste. “What are you on about!”

Slowly, like a dog herding sheep, William guided the tip of the poker until Edward was forced back towards the front door.

One arm still raised, Edward gestured with the other toward the grand window to his side. “The gardens, of course. There is a lot of groundwork to keep up. Unless you think you can manage those on top of Hanbury? In that case, I would happily point you in the direction of the tools you will require.”

The sarcasm which dripped from Edward’s voice was disarming. It had a way of melting the tension out of his muscles until William finally lowered his weapon. “Odd that. Because when I was given Hanbury, the lawyers didn’t tell me it came with a groundskeeper. If I did, I would’ve saved you the time and told you not to bother.”

“Given?” Edward questioned.

William’s heart skipped a beat at his reckless use of his lie. “Brought.”

Edward’s smile was fleeting, but impossible to not notice. “They wouldn’t have known.”

“Convenient?”

Edward squinted, but it did little to dampen the glow of humour in his gaze. “I take that as a no. Because you see my family have been tending to the manor for as long as I can remember. Lawyers or not, it doesn’t change what we do.”

“Take what I say as you wish while promptly getting out of my house.”

Edward sighed, looked around the room he stood in and stepped toward me. “I apologise again. You may not believe it, but I don’t actually have a habit of forcing my way into others’ homes. Next time, I will be sure to⎯.”

Edward didn’t get the chance to finish.

“There will not be a next time,” he sneered, jabbing the poker so Edward continued to backstep out the front room. The problem was he could only get so far.

William was shaking, but it wasn’t from being scared. It was the hangover, finally sinking its tremendous claws into his body and mind. Whereas the thought of a cold shower the night prior was unpleasant, he couldn’t help but think it would have been the best thing for him now.

“May I?” Edward said, the corner of his mouth tweaking upward.

William stood in the doorway, blocking Edward from leaving. He felt only a little embarrassed, having not realized himself. So, he quickly shuffled out of the way just as Edward breezed past him.

A waft of cologne washed over William. Like a freshly laid snare, it entrapped him and disarmed him even further. A natural reflex was to inhale deeply. The scent was subtle yet demanding, and William recognized it was musk, sandalwood, and something sharper like freshly brewed coffee.

William followed Edward like a dog to a bone, lingering behind him until he finally stopped just outside the front door. A nasty chill snuck into the manor, promising more bad weather. Although the sky was clear and calm, even William recognized the undertone of a storm singing in the winds.

“Where’s your car?” William asked, looking beyond Edward to the empty driveaway. “Or gardener’s van or whatever…”

Edward looked behind him as though he, too, was surprised by the lack of transport. “I prefer to walk,” he finally replied. “All the tools that I need are already here.”

“The village is miles away.”

“Is that concern I hear? A moment ago, you were trying to skewer me.”

William’s cheeks pinched red. “Not at all. In fact, maybe I should call the police, and then it would save you the long walk back. I hear the back seats of a police car are pretty comfortable. And I get the impression you’d love it.”

“Thank you,” Edward said, bowing. William couldn’t believe the adherent attitude that spilt off this man. “But I would prefer the fresh air.”

Just as Edward finished speaking a drop of rain smacked down upon his head, followed by another and then another.

“Looks like you’re getting more than just fresh air,” William said, smiling to himself as he slammed the door closed in Edward’s face.

Biting down the string of vulgar words he wished to spit at the man, he jammed the key back in the lock, turned it and then walked away. All the while, he felt the burning of russet eyes boring through the back of his skull and the taunting laugh as Edward walked away from Hanbury manor.

For good, hopefully.

The Haunting of William Thorn will be released on September 9, but you can pre-order it right now. 

Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB