In Saint’s Hotel, the inaugural title from Last Press on the Left, an architect locates the town he has dreamed of since childhood, only to discover that it wants to swallow him whole—a katabatic horror novel for fans of Catriona Ward, Marcus Kliewer, and Caitlin Starling.

This bus stop should not exist.

Ernest cannot prove that the town of Sainte Verlise is real. It exists on no map, in no record, nowhere on the internet. All he has is a photograph dated 1988, given to him by a childhood playmate whose face he cannot recall—and a recurring dream.

Then, one misty day in October, he is there. He takes a room at the Saint's Hotel: the electricity is dead, a black cat trails him through the halls, and the proprietor is a ghost. From newspaper clippings, videotapes, and ephemera left by past visitors, he begins to piece together the mystery of what Sainte Verlise really is… and why it chose him.

Meanwhile, his partner Clémence searches for him: across footnotes, through telephone static and blinking cursors, down a dark road into the fog. Ernest may already be damned. But Clémence cannot rest without knowing.

Combining the liminal architecture of Backrooms, the shapeshifting narrative of We Used to Live Here, the hospitality horror of The Shining, and the gothic dread of Shirley Jackson, Saint’s Hotel is a nightmare you cannot wake from. And the reason you cannot sleep.