Wicked Souls

Stefanie Kay’s narration is the secret weapon of *Wicked Souls*, transforming what could’ve been a plodding gothic lullaby into something hypnotic. Her voice has the kind of smoky richness that makes Valerie’s whispered confessions feel like a dare—you lean in even when you know you should back away. The pacing is flawless, with Kay modulating between Valerie’s brittle arrogance and raw vulnerability so seamlessly it’s like watching a live wire flicker between control and chaos. The production is crisp, letting the silence between words hum with threat, though I wish the ambient sounds (like the distant tolling of a bell) had been a touch more immersive. Wismer’s writing shines in its refusal to coddle the reader—Valerie is a protagonist you’ll alternately pity and distrust, and the supporting cast is a delightful gallery of manipulators, each with their own agendas buried beneath velvet gloves. The story’s midsection sags slightly as Valerie’s arc hesitates between psychological horror and supernatural reveal, but the payoff is worth the wait. The final act is a masterclass in dread, though the ending feels just a hair too tidy for a book that’s otherwise so deliciously messy. Still, Kay’s performance elevates every misstep—the audiobook’s 10-hour runtime flies by because you can’t stop listening, even when you want to.