Cynthia Pelayo’s latest novel, Vanishing Daughters, weaves a spellbinding tapestry of supernatural horror and psychological suspense that captures the essence of Chicago’s most chilling urban legends while exploring themes of grief, feminine vulnerability, and generational trauma. Building on the success of her Bram Stoker Award-winning work, Pelayo crafts a dreamlike narrative that feels both eerily familiar and refreshingly original.
The Spectral Threads of Story
Vanishing Daughters centers on Briar Rose Thorne, a science journalist who returns to her family’s grand Victorian greystone mansion following her mother’s death. As Bri struggles with overwhelming grief, she begins experiencing disturbing phenomena—haunting music from antique radios, a mysterious spinning spindle that seems to move on its own, and recurring dreams of a beautiful young woman in a white dress pleading to be taken home.
Meanwhile, Chicago is gripped by fear as the so-called “Chicago Strangler” claims his 51st victim. When Bri begins researching these murders, she meets Isaac, a psychology professor who introduces her to meditation techniques that might help her understand her disturbing dreams. As Bri delves deeper into her family history, she uncovers dark secrets about a fairy tale curse and the famous Chicago ghost known as Resurrection Mary. The boundaries between dreams, memories, and reality blur as Bri realizes that the only way to stop the Strangler is to help Mary find her way home.
Pelayo brilliantly constructs her narrative around the bones of familiar fairy tales—particularly “Sleeping Beauty”—while grounding the story in Chicago’s rich tradition of ghost stories. The novel unfolds like a fever dream, shifting between Bri’s perspective, glimpses into the killer’s mind, and haunting visions of the past.
Characters Haunted by Past and Present
The character development in Vanishing Daughters is one of its strongest elements. Briar Rose is a compelling protagonist whose skepticism gradually erodes as she confronts supernatural forces. Her journey through grief is portrayed with raw authenticity—the foggy thinking, disorientation, and emotional volatility feel painfully real. Pelayo captures the physical manifestations of mourning with unflinching precision: “No one knows what the tightening of grief feels like until they’ve lived it, and what it is to lose a loved one. It’s the constant feeling of your heart being squeezed.”
The supporting cast is equally well-drawn:
Emily (Bri’s roommate and best friend) serves as an emotional anchor, representing practical concerns while still caring deeply for Bri
Daniel (Bri’s boyfriend) provides stability and unwavering support
Isaac offers mysterious guidance that walks the line between helpful and unsettling
Mary/Resurrection Mary emerges as more than a ghostly trope, evolving into a fully realized character with her own tragic history
Mal, the serial killer, is portrayed with disturbing effectiveness—his chapters are skin-crawlingly creepy without glorifying his violence
Less successful is the development of Bri’s mother Aurora, who despite her importance to the plot remains somewhat nebulous. While this may be intentional—reflecting how grief can distort our memories of the deceased—it leaves a slight gap in the emotional core of the story.
Chicago as Character: Setting and Atmosphere
Few authors capture Chicago’s essence as effectively as Pelayo. The city isn’t merely a backdrop but a living, breathing entity with its own dark history. From the grand boulevard where Bri’s house stands to the eerie stretch of Archer Avenue, each location pulses with history and supernatural potential.
Particularly effective is Pelayo’s exploration of the city’s infamous locales:
Resurrection Cemetery – The legendary home of Chicago’s most famous ghost
Bachelor’s Grove – A forgotten cemetery rumored to be “the most haunted in America”
Red Gate Woods – The burial site of the world’s first nuclear reactor
Saint James at Sag Bridge Church – “Monk’s Castle,” with its history of paranormal activity
Pelayo’s prose becomes lyrical when describing these settings, creating an atmosphere thick with dread and wonder. When Bri visits Bachelor’s Grove, “It feels like it’s only the two of us who exist in all the world right now, and maybe that’s true; maybe we’ve stepped into a thin place in which just he and I and ghost stories and urban legends exist.”
Fairy Tales and Female Vulnerability
One of the novel’s most compelling aspects is its exploration of fairy tales as warnings about female vulnerability. Pelayo deconstructs “Sleeping Beauty” to reveal its core message about violence against women and the parasitic nature of those who prey on feminine beauty. The parallel between fairy tale monsters and real-world predators is drawn with chilling clarity.
The novel asks uncomfortable questions: Why do we romanticize female ghosts while forgetting the violence that created them? Why are we fascinated by urban legends of vanishing hitchhikers without acknowledging the brutal reality of women murdered while simply trying to get home?
As Bri observes: “We speak of the weeping woman in whispers. We giggle with fright at the thought of Bloody Mary… But these women are not the monsters.”
Strengths and Shortcomings
What Works Brilliantly
Blend of genres: Pelayo seamlessly integrates elements of folklore, true crime, and psychological horror
Atmospheric writing: The dreamlike quality of the prose perfectly matches the story’s themes
Chicago setting: The author’s knowledge of and love for the city shines through
Exploration of grief: The portrayal of mourning is authentic and devastating
Feminist themes: The novel’s examination of violence against women is thoughtful and necessary
Where the Novel Falters
Narrative structure: The frequent shifts between reality, dreams, and visions occasionally become disorienting
Pacing: The middle section drags slightly as Bri cycles through similar revelations
Explanations: Some supernatural elements receive clearer explanations than others
Plot conveniences: A few crucial discoveries feel too neatly aligned for the story’s needs
Character motivations: The decision-making of some characters (particularly Isaac) sometimes lacks clarity
Literary Lineage and Comparable Works
Vanishing Daughters builds upon Pelayo’s previous works, particularly her Chicago-set novels Children of Chicago and The Shoemaker’s Magician, which also explore the darker side of fairy tales. However, this novel feels more intimate and character-driven than her earlier work.
Readers who enjoy Vanishing Daughters might also appreciate:
Jennifer McMahon’s The Winter People for its exploration of grief through supernatural lenses
Carmen Maria Machado’s Her Body and Other Parties for its feminist reframing of folklore
T. Kingfisher’s The Hollow Places for its blend of modern horror with folk elements
Stephen Graham Jones’ My Heart Is a Chainsaw for its meta-approach to horror tropes
Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic for its reimagining of gothic traditions
Final Thoughts: A Mesmerizing, If Occasionally Murky, Journey
Vanishing Daughters is a hauntingly beautiful novel that resonates long after the final page. Pelayo’s ability to blend Chicago folklore, true crime elements, and fairy tale motifs creates something genuinely unique in the horror landscape. The book functions simultaneously as a ghost story, a serial killer thriller, and a poignant exploration of grief.
While the narrative occasionally gets tangled in its own complexity, and some readers might find the dreamlike quality disorienting, these elements also contribute to the novel’s hypnotic power. Pelayo isn’t interested in providing easy answers or clean resolutions—she’s investigating the murky spaces where myth meets reality, where past trauma bleeds into present danger.
For readers willing to surrender to its dream logic and atmospheric intensity, Vanishing Daughters offers a deeply rewarding experience that challenges conventional genre boundaries. Pelayo has crafted a story as layered and complex as the city it celebrates—one where beauty and terror dance together in the shadows of ancient oak trees and gleaming skyscrapers.
Vanishing Daughters showcases Cynthia Pelayo at the height of her powers, crafting a story that is equal parts nightmare and elegy. Like the best ghost stories, it lingers in the mind, raising questions about what we choose to remember and what we force ourselves to forget. It’s a testament to Pelayo’s skill that even when the narrative strays into murkier territories, readers will feel compelled to follow wherever she leads—even down a moonlit Archer Avenue, where a woman in white waits by the cemetery gates, desperate to finally find her way home.
A word of caution: This novel contains descriptions of violence against women, themes of grief and loss, and scenes that may be disturbing to sensitive readers.