11:59 PM.
“Drayce!” I dashed across the vacant street to meet him. My heart broke as I witnessed life gradually abandoning him. The minute I reached him, I knelt to hold him in my arms.
“Please, please…” I whispered between gasping breaths as I shut my eyes. “Whatever magic lives in me, please make this work.” I leaned closer, cupping his face between my hands. His skin was cold as marble, his light all but gone.
I pressed my lips against his, sealing the counter-spell at last.
Magic radiated from me in slow pulsing waves, soft beams of light that engulfed us inside a spectral sphere.
Soon, Lara’s cries muffled, other voices in the street faded away. A low buzz echoed in the powerful sphere that enclosed Drayce and me. In the distance, Westminster’s bells marked the dreaded witching hour.
Midnight.
Was it too late? Had I lost Drayce forever?
Tears rolled down my cheeks when something shifted in this kiss. I sensed the softness of lips pushing back against mine, the warmth of tender hands gliding on my jawline, smooth as their thumbs caressed my cheeks.
I opened my eyes. Bliss filled my heart to the point where it hindered my breathing. “Drayce,” I whispered, tears of joy blurring my sight. His eyes were open wide, glistening with life, precious garnets of profound obscurity.
“You’re alive,” I mumbled in a daze, bemused by his preternatural beauty.
A smile danced on his lips. “Thanks to you, I am.” His voice was laced velvet delighting my senses.
“Yeah, well...” I bit my lower lip. “I’m not letting you go that easily,” I added, pulling a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, meeting my eyes with a steely stare. “Kiera, I love you.”
Wave after wave of warmth crashed inside me and spread to my every limb, making them tingle with excitement.
“And I love you,” I said. Then, unable to hold back any longer, I locked my arms around his neck and kissed him once more, oblivious to the columns of dark smoke rising from the shop into the evening air, the roaring sound of police sirens drawing near, the mumbling voices of Lara Knightley and her son, now deprived of all magic, as they tried to explain themselves to the authorities.
The world could have blown to pieces, and I wouldn’t give a damn, because I had him. This was the man I loved, the vampire I loved. And he was back in my life, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Sixteen
Lively reggae blasted off the speakers of an old boombox, Prim’s choice of vintage tracks as usual.
Restoring Stone’s Teahouse wouldn’t be an easy feat; it would take weeks to build up the place from the wreckage caused by the Knightleys. But time would pass by in a blink in the company of the helping hands of so many coven witches — and a few vampires, too. If we stuck to the schedule, we’d manage to open properly by Yule, which thrilled Prim and me. What better way to celebrate the return of the light than to inaugurate our renovated shop?
The sisters had brought their own booze tonight. I’d set up the snack table as usual, but this time, I added a coffee station to be safe.
I ambled through the shop, sweeping the floors, occasionally engaging with our guests. I stopped to watch a pair of ladies who were caught up setting the new wallpaper. Others arranged the reupholstered chairs. Kinship and sisterhood lingered in the air. It was warm and welcoming and made me feel at home.
“It’s a clean-up party, m’dear!” Prim said, leaning against the wall, broom in hand. “Doesn’t your lot ever throw this kind of gathering?”
Alisa gave Auntie Prim a quizzical stare. “Not our type of thing, I fear…” Her piercing blue eyes shimmered with suppressed amusement. “We vampires seem to gather only to plot against our own. Occasionally, we’ll organize a special hunting spree.”
My jaw all but dropped as I stared at the centennial vampire chitchatting with my aunt. It was unthinkable that a blood drinker and a witch would ever socialize so casually. But there it was. And it was amazing! And a little disturbing too...
I moved further in the room, sweeping up dust and shards of glass on the way. But as I tried to concentrate on my assigned task, sparks of many conversations reached my ears. However, one voice outshone the others.
“You want to choose only the best, but you also want to please your own palate,” Alexander said. He stood behind the refurbished counter, a bottle of red wine in his hand. Half a dozen witches gawped at him, captivated by his charm as he explained the finest details of oenology. “I for instance, cannot pass on a good California Cabernet. But this one, I think, will please you in particular.”
He flashed the bottle’s label at the ladies.
Witching Hour. How shrewd.
Alexander sure knew how to win a crowd. He opened the bottle with swift agility, his every move graceful and calculated to delight his audience.
“Kiera, darling!” a woman’s voice said.
I turned to meet a vivacious five-foot woman with auburn hair and round glasses. Her beady dark eyes stared at me with endearment.
“Judy!” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m happy you came.”
“You know my husband,” Judy added, elbowing the tall man standing next to her. He was dashing in a navy suit, salt and pepper hair styled to perfection. Truly a James Bond type of fellow.
The six-foot man looked down at me. He dipped his hand into his jacket’s pocket and then slowly extracted a curious object.
A silver jingle bell cat collar.
“Mr. William!” I said, relieved and ashamed at the same time, my face blushing like crazy. “Mr. William, I am so sorry for what my auntie did!”
Judy’s husband laughed, much to my surprise. “My dear child, what are you talking about?” shaking his head.
“Well,” I hesitated, wondering if bringing up the subject would be considered tactless. “She turned you into a cat.”
“Of course she did,” Mr. William said with a merry expression. “I asked her to do it!”
“You did?” I said, bemused.
“There was a woman…” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“Lara Knightley was after him,” Judy added, unabashed. “Things got rather ugly. She wanted my poor William dead if she could not sink her claws into him!”
Mr. William blushed and lowered his gaze.
“I cannot believe my ears,” I mumbled, shocked.
“I asked Prim to turn me into a cat while we figured out a way to block Lara’s vicious plan.” He shrugged. “So you see, if anything, I am indebted to Primrose.”
“Oh,” I uttered a nervous laugh. “I’m so glad you’re all right!”
“The girls and I have talked. We’ve nominated Prim as our new Head Witch,” Judy told me in confidence. “And from what I gather, she’s got all the votes already.”
“That’s wonderful news!” I said, immediately bursting with joy.
“Lovely clean-up party, hon!” A hand landed on my back. I turned to meet Meredith’s hazel eyes. John was with her. They were perfectly happy again, but that had not been by my merit. John and Meredith had a magic of their own.
“Happy to be here, Kiera,” John said with a smile, holding up his broom. “We’ll get started right away.”
“Thanks, guys! There’s tea and biscuits over there.” I pointed to the table. “Alexander is serving red wine by the counter if you’re so inclined.”
“And here I was hoping for one of Prim’s infamous margaritas,” John joked.
“That makes two of you,” I said. “Drayce has been asking to try those.”
“Where is Drayce, by the way?” Mer asked.
“Back there, on portrait duty.” I pointed at the end of the room, where Drayce stood atop the ladder, hanging the shop’s antique paintings into place. “I better go help.”
“I’ll take that broom off your hands,” Meredith said. “You go meet your Loverboy.”
I grinned, happy to h
and my broom to my best friend.
“Don’t mind me,” I teased, looking up at Drayce. “I’m not trying to make you nervous or anything.” My playful comment won me a charming smile from him.
Drayce held a portrait up. “Is this all right?” he mumbled, a nail pressed between his lips.
I tilted my head, taking a step backwards to appreciate the placement. “Mm... Higher, I think.”
Drayce put the picture away, grabbed the nail, and set it an inch higher. He then took the hammer, ready to strike the first blow.
“Wait!” I said, waving my hands. “A bit more to the left, please.”
A furtive smile stretched his silken lips. “Here?” he asked, slightly raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
Drayce hammered the nail at last, placing the portrait right where I wanted.
“It’s slightly crooked, though.” I narrowed my eyes, making sure it was the case. “Can you maybe give it a nudge?”
He smirked, looking down to meet my gaze. “We could do this all evening, couldn’t we?” he teased, adjusting the frame with the tip of his finger.
“We could,” I said, raising a shoulder in a half shrug. “If you have nothing else on your mind.”
Graceful as a cat, Drayce leaped off the ladder and landed on the ground. He was quick to wrap me in a warm hold, gently pressing his lips against my ear. “I can think of many other ways to pass the evening,” he purred. Shivers of delight rippled through my limbs.
“Oh, really?” I yielded to his muscular arms. “Tell me more.”
“Better yet,” he whispered. “I’ll show you.” He then leaned closer until our lips met in a tender kiss that deepened as his tongue entered my mouth. Drayce gently parted and buried his face in my shoulder, holding me tight.
I opened my eyes and stared past the shop’s window. I’d witnessed life pass by through that window, year after year, for the past decade. What went on beyond that pane of glass often appeared interesting, but could never be as wonderful as the events that unraveled within these cherished walls…
Also by Silvana G. Sánchez
The Unnatural Brethren
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One.
Written in Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two.
Call of Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part One.
Call of Blood: A New Adult Vampire Romance Novella, Part Two.
Vesely Academy
Vesely Academy: Academy of Extraordinary Creatures, Year One.
Vesely Academy: The Soul Thief, Year Two.
Anthologies and Other Publications
The Unknown, A Collection of Thirty-One Creepy Poems.
Ash and Snow: The Curse of The White Throne ft. in Once Upon Another World, A Twisted Fairy Tale Box Set.
Be the first to know when Silvana’s next book is available. Join her newsletter or follow her on Bookbub to get an alert whenever she has a new release, preorder, or discount!
About the Author
Silvana G. Sánchez writes monsters with a heart of gold, villains who are the heroes of their own stories.
She lives in Mexico City with her husband Eric, twins Iker (†) and David, and two Shih-Tzu puppies she lovingly calls her dragons, Wookie and Padme.
When not cutting eyes open in her practice as an Ophthalmologist, she's known to write dark fantasy novels in her writing den.
You can find her lurking on her Facebook page and the Readers’ Den, her reader’s group.
You’re welcome to stop by to say hello. She doesn't bite—not always, anyway.
For more information:
www.silvanagsanchez.com
[email protected]
The Ghost of Morley Manor by Tricia Schneider
A Historical Paranormal Ghost Romance
Copyright © Tricia Schneider 2020
Edited by D.E. Eidem
About
When Alice Worthington’s father dies, he leaves Morley Manor and all his debt to her and her younger brother. Desperate to find a way to pay the creditors, Alice performs a séance to contact the spirit of the last man to have seen the jewels rumored to be hidden within her home.
Sir Nicholas, a two-hundred-year-old roguish ghost, strikes a bargain with Alice. Find his earthly remains and bury them in consecrated ground. Only then will he reveal the location of the hidden jewels. Alice agrees not knowing when the time comes, she must decide between saving her home or saving the soul of the charming ghost who haunts Morley Manor.
Chapter One
Don't miss your opportunity to get a F*R*E*E book from Tricia when you reach the end of this collection. Watch for the Reader Magnets links!
England, 1830
"Are you certain this is a good idea?"
I glanced from beneath the hood of my cloak toward my gangly brother walking beside me, trampling with heavy feet through the dead fallen leaves. The wind blew from the north, rustling the remaining leaves of orange and gold from the nearly bare tree limbs, blowing them across our path. The late October wind sent chills through me, despite the heavy coal-colored cloak I pulled tight around my shoulders. Was it the wind or our destination that sent shivers across my skin?
No, surely not our destination. Not that.
"Of course, I don't think it's a wise decision, but our only course of action."
"There must be a better way..."
I shrugged. "If you have any suggestions..."
“Anything must be better than this. Is it not sacrilegious? I don’t wish to damn our souls.”
“Would you rather I turn whore?”
“No!” Trevor shouted. He glanced around us, looking for signs of anyone nearby. Then he lowered his voice. “No, of course, I don’t want that, Alice. All I’m saying is there must be a better, more reliable way, of getting what we need.”
“I’ve worked on this since Father died. Other than selling my body, either for blunt or marriage, I cannot find another means of escaping our fate. This must work.”
We fell silent and listened as every crunchy footstep led us closer to the graveyard. Soon I noticed the stone wall that surrounded the ancient church about a mile from our home. Trevor did not remark upon the appearance of the crumbling stone wall. He remained subdued until we reached the heavy iron gate at the entrance.
The cold metal seeped through the thin leather of my gloves as I pushed the gate open. The hinges creaked noisily as it swung. I suppressed another shiver as I stepped onto consecrated ground. Trevor reluctantly followed.
“Do you know where it is?” I asked, searching among the stones for the carved name of the man who might aid us.
Trevor pointed. “Over there.”
He led me toward the northwest corner. He stopped in front of a gravestone etched with intricate script, the letters swirling together in such an ornate design as to be nearly illegible.
Here lies Sir Nicholas Weatherby, Lord of Morley Manor, 1602-1632.
I released the sack I carried, letting it drop to my feet. The contents clanged together, echoing loudly in the silent surroundings. I fell to my knees to sort through the sack, removing the items.
“Let us hurry.” Trevor swayed nervously beside me. “The light will fade shortly.”
I leaned back, smiling as I tilted my chin to gaze at him. I blinked as the wind hit my face, blowing my hood back, my brown hair escaping the confines to whip gently around me.
“Trev,” I said. “We’re conducting a séance to speak with the spirits of the dead. What makes you think they’ll be about during the day?”
He shrugged. “They’re spirits. I should think they’d be found at all times. Day or night. What else have they to do but haunt the living?”
I considered him. “This could be true, but from what I’ve learned it’s easier to communicate after dusk. Especially on the night of All Hallows’ Eve.” I let this sink into his brain. When he showed no signs of comprehension, I further added, “Afte
r the sun sets.”
He glanced at the setting sun, estimating the length of time we would remain after dark. When he looked back at me, the grim set of his mouth told me he understood. And he did not seem pleased.
“How long?”
“As long as it takes.” I continued pulling items from the sack, setting them in the places Lady Gladys had stated in the drawings she made for me to reference. I would have preferred she accompany me this night in my brother’s stead, but she had her reputation to consider and traveling in the night to a graveyard was not a task set upon when one was trying to hide one’s otherworldly talents.
I had memorized her instructions and placed the items she had selected for me in the appropriate places. The candle in front of the stone, the pinch of salt I swiped from Cook to the north, the feather to the east, and a small bowl to the west. I poured some water from a flask into the bowl. Then I pulled the pebbles from the bottom of the sack and glanced at Trevor, who shuffled to and fro with his hands jammed firmly into his pockets.
“Are you in or out?”
He tilted his head, then looked around as if I spoke to someone else. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.
“I must draw a circle of protection that cannot be broken. Do you wish to stand within the circle, or would you rather keep out?”
“If it’s all the same to you, sister mine, I’d rather stay far away from that circle.”
“Very well.” I shrugged my shoulders. I tried not to let his fear enhance my own. I was nervous enough without Trevor adding to it. “Stand back then.”
I whispered the words I’d memorized, placing the pebbles around the gravestone and myself to create a circle. Then I knelt beside the gravestone and lit the candle. The light flickered in the wind but did not extinguish. I repeated the incantation that would draw the spirit free from his earthly body. I said it again a third time, then I awaited a response.
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 104