[Clegg] draws eerily plausible parallels betweenthe arcane rituals of academic institutions and esoteric occultists, and imbues Harrow with an atmosphere of menace thick enough to support further flightsof dark fantasy.

The signs all along the desert highway read Come See the Mystery！ But some mysteries should remain buried forever.Chartie Goodrow, owner of the Brake Down Palace Gas and Sundries, tells anyone who stops for a fill-up about the mysterious attraction in back. It's the mummified remains of an ancient legendary flesh-scraper, whose iob had been to scrape the flesh off the bones of human sacrifices...

When a car filled with teenagers gets a flat tire out in the middle of the Arizona heat, the kids figure they have time to check out the Mystery. Behind curtains, in a glass case, lies a small, withered corpse with very long fingernails. Above it, tacked on the wall, is a sign: Do Not Touch. Do Not Feed.But it has to be a hoax, right？ How could the kids know that feeding the Mystery will be the worst mistake of their lives？ How could they know that the flesh-scraper is hungry for flesh？