The Taverna at the Edge of Night by H.Y. Hanna
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The Taverna at the Edge of Night
Sometimes the most beautiful locations hide the deadliest betrayal. When Daphne travels to a remote fishing village on the Greek island of Crete, she’s looking forward to sunshine, sea views, and a happy reunion with her best friend. But from the moment she arrives at her friend’s new taverna, something feels wrong. Roxy is jittery and evasive, the locals avoid questions, and rumours of a cliffside murder have everyone on edge.
After a terrifying night-time attack that leaves her shaken and desperate for answers, Daphne turns to her best friend for help. Instead, she’s met with gaslighting and lies that make her question her own sanity. Isolated and unsure who to trust, she becomes trapped in a lethal game of deception—and drawn to a mysterious stranger with secrets of his own.
As Daphne digs deeper, she realises someone in this idyllic village is hiding a deadly secret… and her closest friendship may be the most dangerous thing of all.
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Read an excerpt The Taverna at the Edge of Night (H.Y. Hanna)
Chapter 1: Daphne encounters an old Greek woman and the ominous superstition of the Evil Eye…
The old woman’s dark eyes flickered to me again, her gaze assessing. It felt uncomfortably like she was seeing right through me.
Then she stepped forwards suddenly and cried: “Eísai matiasméni!” She leaned towards me and spat three times with great relish. “Ftou! Ftou! Ftou!”
I reeled back in shock.
“Yiayia!” cried the shop girl reproachfully. She turned to me with an expression of horrified apology. “Please—I am so sorry. My grandmother is not being rude. This is just our culture. She says the Evil Eye is on you, so she spit on you to protect you.”
“Oh… right…” I shifted hastily out of spitting range.
“It’s because you have great success. In Greece, we believe that if you have good fortune—if you are beautiful, or rich, or lucky—then people will look at you with envy. They will put the Evil Eye on you. Then you will become hurt or sick—bad things will happen to you,” the girl said earnestly.
“But… that’s just a superstition, isn’t it?” I said with a weak smile.
The shop girl shook her head. “It is true. It happens all the time—I see it. You know, last week, I got a new vase for my house, and then my friend visited and she told me: ‘Your new vase is so beautiful!’ And then after she left, the vase fell to the ground and broke into many pieces.”
“But that could have just been coincidence,” I protested.
The shop girl shrugged. “How do you know? It is better to take care. The Evil Eye can be very powerful—very dangerous.”
“Eínai máti,” said the grandmother, pointing a gnarled finger at me.
I felt a shiver slide down my spine in spite of myself and pushed the notion away impatiently. It was just a quaint folk belief, nothing more.
“Don’t worry,” the shop girl assured me. “It is easy to protect yourself. You just keep a mati near you. You see? Like these…” She indicated a display case, which was filled with a row of pendants made of concentric rings of black, white, and blue. The dark centre of each mati looked uncannily like a black pupil.
“We give these as gifts at weddings and baptisms to protect the new couple or the baby from the Evil Eye. And not just for the people; you can also have a mati for your house or your car or even your animals…” She pointed to one of the charms. “You see the blue colour? It is reflecting the bad energy away from you. It will protect you from others who look at you with bad intentions.” She beamed at me. “You like one? I will give you very good price.”
I smiled noncommittally and couldn’t help wondering if the whole scene with her grandmother had been a clever ploy to persuade impressionable foreigners to buy a charm! Still, this was the ultimate kitschy souvenir for any self-respecting tourist…
I stepped closer to the row of pendants and was about to select one when I caught sight of a necklace on a stand above them. It was also a mati charm, but this one was rendered luxuriously in semi-precious stones, with concentric circles of gleaming black onyx, milky white opal, and rich blue lapis lazuli mounted on a gold base.
The shop girl followed my gaze. “Ah… you have very good taste! This one is very special; is handmade.” She lifted the necklace out of the case and handed it to me. “Very beautiful, no?”
“Yes, it’s gorgeous,” I agreed, holding it against my throat and admiring it in the mirror.
“You will not find another one like this—it is a limited edition,” she said with a winning smile.
I hesitated, glancing at the price tag. It was a hefty sum, as befitted a piece of luxury jewellery. And I was well aware that I was probably falling for a practised sales spiel. Still, she was right about its quality—as someone who crafted handmade jewellery for a living, I knew exquisite workmanship when I saw it. I eyed the pendant again in the mirror, admiring the way light danced along the shimmering surface of the lapis lazuli, catching the flecks of gold within the deep ultramarine blue…
“All right. I’ll take it,” I said. I was about to hand it back to her to wrap when the grandmother stepped forwards and said something in Greek, gesturing urgently to my neck. The shop girl started to argue, but the old woman cut her off harshly. Sighing, the girl turned back to me.
“My grandmother says you should wear it now, the mati. Don’t take it off.”
“Oh…” I started to laugh it off, feeling slightly annoyed at pandering to a silly superstition, but something in the old woman’s piercing gaze stopped me.
I hesitated, then slowly clasped the charm around my neck. It felt cool and soothing against my skin, and there was something strangely reassuring about the weight of the pendant against my throat.
“It is good,” said the shop girl, eyeing me approvingly. “You wear the mati—you always stay safe. Oh, if you see a crack in the charm, don’t worry. This means that the bad luck coming to you has been absorbed. You have been protected. You just have to buy a new charm.”
Of course you do, I thought cynically. Still, I didn’t regret the purchase. If nothing else, it was a beautiful, unique piece of jewellery.
As I left the shop, however, I couldn’t help glancing back again at the grandmother sitting in her corner. Her dark gaze met mine. There was a troubled look in her eyes as she watched me—and yet also a strange compassion.
I turned quickly away and went out into the sunshine, telling myself not to let a superstitious old woman bother me.
The unease lingered, though, as I made my way to join the tour group at the hotel. And I reached up impulsively to touch the mati charm as the coach pulled away from the alleys of the Old Town and headed south towards the mountains of Crete.
The Taverna at the Edge of Night Author H.Y. Hanna
USA Today-bestselling author H.Y. Hanna writes atmospheric destination thrillers and psychological suspense set in beautiful—and often deadly—international locations. With over 30 novels published and translated into several languages, her books also include light-hearted “cozy mysteries”, which have delighted readers around the world.
After graduating from Oxford University, Hsin-Yi spent years trying to fit into a “real” job, before finally returning to her first love: writing. Throughout her life, she has called many places home—from Taiwan to London, Dubai to New Zealand—but she has now finally unpacked her bags for good in Perth, Western Australia, where she spends most days fighting with her cat Muesli for the use of her office chair.
To learn more about H.Y., click either of the following links: Website, Facebook.
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