When Jean Miller ditches San Francisco for the North Carolina mountains, the worst she expects is a lack of internet cafes and Uber drivers. That’s fine, since this might be her last shot at living an authentic life, close to nature, and reclaiming something she and the world have lost.
It must be this NC weed. [This is unclear. If you're trying to appeal to a wide audience, I'd go for improved clarity by saying "It must be this North Carolina weed she's been smoking." If clarity isn't as important and you're trying to appeal to a more hip, rapid-fire crowd, I'd say leave it be.] No strange force is drawing her into the woods at night—where local kids are known to get lost and die. No entity called “the landlord” is trying to contact her. That damn flute music is coming from another apartment, not between the walls.
But when a spectral attacker leaves Jean nearly dead in her new bedroom, she must come to terms with the “other” tenants residing at the apartment complex. [Here, I would give some brief hints and snippets about those "other" tenants. For example: she must come to terms with the "other" tenants residing at the apartment complex. The widow Hannity, herself ultimately extinguished by a fit of whooping cough some hundred years ago, the echoes of which still ring through the building's corridors. The TV salesman, Bob Vickerson, who could never get by on his paltry income and still paces the floor in his room to this day, contemplating a better place to work--22 years after his death. Even the long gray cat, Spotz, who one of her neighbors lost in a hit-and-run five years ago.] Then again, they can’t be much worse than the slobberings of her real neighbors: the awkward Miles and the possible-wife-murdering Devin.
Yes, Jean has her doubts. [Doubts about WHAT? About North Carolina? If so, I'd say explicitly "Yes, Jean has her doubts about North Carolina." If not North Carolina, then what? The afterlife? It's not clear.] Because, on the verge of death, she is granted a glimpse of the Otherworld: the paradise sought for centuries by poets and dreamers. It’s the most authentic life imaginable.
[I'd add, "She is also granted a glimpse of something else:] Pagan, hostile forces are reclaiming their earthly territory—and Jean has been selected to help lead the revolution. All she has to do is renounce the world and everyone in it.
She must also keep in mind: that back in the Middle Ages, the word "fairy" meant something similar to "demon." [This sentence just doesn't fit or make sense. I think it all hinges on the word "fairy." Was Jean told she was a fairy at some point in the story? Did she hear people talking about fairies, or did she hear ghosts talking about fairies? If so, one of the two previous paragraphs is probably a good place to bring it up. "She is granted a glimpse of the Otherworld: the paradise sought for centuries by poets and dreamers--a realm peopled by fairies and other fantastic beings." Or, "Pagan, hostile forces are reclaiming their earthly territory--and Jean, hailed as 'Queen of the Fairies,' has been selected to help lead the revolution."]
IN DARKSOME SPRING is a horror/fantasy novel of 84,000 words. Thank you for your time.