BOOK REVIEW: Touch of Steel (Clockwork Agents #2) by Kate Cross

The Wardens of the Realm are a group with extraordinary abilities, dedicated to protecting England from any threat. But in this steam-powered world, there’s a fine line between enemy and ally…

Reeling from her brother’s death, beautiful American spy Claire Brooks has vowed revenge on the member of The Company who she believes to be responsible: Stanton Howard. But when she chases the man to London, Claire is captured by the Wardens of the Realm and placed in the custody of the Earl of Wolfred, the dashing Alistair Payne.

Seeing the prospect of retribution slipping away, Claire convinces Alistair that she has defected and will help him take down The Company. As they travel via steam liner, Claire and Alistair must pretend to be engaged. Claire can’t deny the growing attraction she feels for her pretend husband, but when Howard is finally within her reach, she will have to decide whether her true loyalties lie with The Company or with her heart…


Claire Brooks and her brother Robert had been American spies for the The Company since they were young. But when her brother died, she vowed revenge even if it meant she has to find the culprit herself. She believes Stanton Howard is responsible and follows him to England. However, she is captured by the British spy agency, The Warden's. In exchange for the valuable information she can give them, she is given under the custody of the Earl of Wolfred, Alistair Payne. Together, they will find the men involved, discover the truth about the spy agencies, and fight the dangerous attraction they feel toward each other.

I have read steampunk books before. I love the costumes (Victorian dresses) and the combination of history and modernity. In the past, I haven't liked how the mechanical terms takeover the story; sometimes it's hard to focus on the narrative. However, with TOUCH OF STEEL, romance and steampunk are perfectly balanced.

Kate Cross did a wonderful job describing a vivid world of fan knives, metals, spies and historical England. The story flowed smoothly luring readers in the world she created. The terms used did not interfere with the story. The world building is done well, dropping the right amount of information just at the right time.

The main characters, Claire and Alistair, are both epic spies, they are deadly-badass! But also, they showed weaknesses. Claire suffers as a result of her brother's death and Alastair is still wounded from his former lover that betrayed him and left him for dead. Both have their share of tragedies and yet they still fight for good and their loved ones. I enjoyed the slow burn of love between these two, coupled with witty remarks and full-packed action, what more could I ask for?! For me, they are a perfect couple, one where a simple kiss could make their romance steamy and sensual.

Also, the secondary characters are unique and interesting, each has his own story to tell. Besides that, in this book you'll never guess who's good or right, each has his own agenda; each of them will do anything to get whatever that agenda may be.

Even though this is the second book, it is a stand-alone. I can't wait for Breath of Iron this summer and if ever there's a chance I will read the first book, Heart of Brass.

TOUCH OF STEEL is a not just steampunk but an action-adventure full of spies, revenge, loyalty, twists, steamy scenes and love. It's a new world of wicked spies that I'm not willing to leave yet.


copy provided by Fresh Fiction

ARC Review + Chapter 1: Lullaby by Amanda Hocking

Lullaby by Amanda Hocking

• Reading level: Ages 12 and up
• Hardcover: 304 pages
• Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin; First Edition edition (November 27, 2012)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1250005655

Harper only wanted a safe, normal life. But when her younger sister Gemma runs off with a dangerous clique of beautiful girls, Penn, Thea, and Lexi, everything changes. Vowing to get her sister back no matter what the cost, Harper must face dangers unlike any she's ever experienced. Fortunately, she has Daniel by her side, a gorgeous guy who's devoted to helping her find her sister—and who's immune to the girls' dark powers.

While Harper searches for her sister, Gemma struggles to adjust to her new life.  Gemma's powers are growing by the day, and the longer she lives with her new "sisters," the harder it is to resist entering their magical world.  It's a realm both dark and beautiful, and where she's plagued by strange hungers and unspeakable needs.  Just as she's drifting far away from her old life,  Harper and Daniel find her...but no one can deny how much she's changed.  All she wants is to return to her family and the mortal world, but how can she do that when she's become something else entirely—and will they still love her once they learn the truth?

Prepare to fall under the spell of Lullaby, the second book in the Watersong series from New York Times bestselling author Amanda Hocking.

I had read the ARC of Wake, the first book in the Watersong Series and although I didn’t really love it that much, I still want to know what happens next to Gemma and Harper, and LULLABY provided a very nice second book.

Gemma is now powerful, stronger and more beautiful, she can even turn into a mermaid. But this new life also costs her, her family and her normal life. Struggling not to become monsters like her new sisters, Penn, Thea, and Lexi, proves to be difficult especially that being a Siren requires killing people for survival. Can she really resist the sea and the new her, even if her hair’s falling out?

Harper will not be stopped until she got her sister back. With the gorgeous Daniel at her side, who seems to be immune to the Sirens, and Alex, together they’ll find clues which not only will bring them to Gemma but opens up to more questions. Will she also find the courage to finally figure out what Daniel meant to her? Could she ever bring back her sister after she finds out the truth about what Gemma had become?

Unlike Wake, LULLABY delves deeper into each characters psyche, we still have the POV’s of Gemma and Harper, but it’s mostly onto Harper. We got to know Harper more, how she loved Gemma like her own child, how she struggles with her feelings for Daniel, thinking that love isn’t meant for her. Seriously?!, this couple is the cutest I’ve ever seen. They’re love for each other is true, the chemistry is there although they’re not officially in the relationship. Whenever they are on the same page, the pull is kinda magnetic and electric.

Gemma’s character also has developed a lot, she now considers what her actions could do to the people she loved, and realize what she’d just become and struggles to keep her morality. The boys, Daniel and Alex also have mysteries surrounding them, though we could find that out in the next book. Marcy appeared again, and her snarky comments still define her. I wish Nathalie appeared more on here; I miss her just as the sisters missed her.

The story is more on transition, there are not many action scenes, but we discover some mystery and are left with more. We’re given knowledge about the mythology in this book, the siren ways and the curse. The writing is quick though; the conversations and scenes are lively and do not drag on. And the ending is a cliffhanger, like expected and it did a good job of making me want to have the next book.:D

I will read the next book in the series and hopefully will figure out some of the questions running in my head, especially what’s so special with the Boys of Capri. If you’re a fan or just intrigue with Amanda Hocking, you should give this series a try!

View all my reviews
 DISCLAIMER: I received this pdf  from FreshFiction in exchange of my honest review. First appeared on FreshFiction.

CHAPTER ONE

Aftermath


Harper woke up when the sun was just beginning to set, and squinted at the dim orange light streaming in through her curtains. For one moment—one brief, glorious moment—she’d forgotten about the night before, the night when her little sister had been attacked before turning into some kind of mermaid and disappearing in the ocean.
Then it all came back to her. Her head throbbed at the memory, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
After Gemma had swum away, leaving Harper alone on the dock at Bernie’s Island, Daniel had checked on Alex to make sure that he was all right. When they’d arrived at the cabin, Alex had been lying unconscious on the floor. Harper hadn’t seen what had happened, but it wasn’t hard for her to imagine.
A horrible bird-creature stood over him. Its mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth, and massive black wings stretched out behind it. Then it had shifted, changing form into a different kind of monster—the beautiful Penn.
It was almost impossible for Harper to wrap her mind around. When Alex had come to, he’d been certain the things he remembered were a bizarre dream brought on by head trauma. But Harper and Daniel had been forced to tell him that it was all true. The monsters were real, and Gemma was gone.
Then, after all of that, Harper knew she had to go home and attempt to explain to her father what had happened, even though she didn’t understand it herself. Not that she could tell him the truth—there was no way any sane person would believe it unless he had witnessed it for himself.
So Harper told Brian that Gemma had run off with Penn and her friends. It was something close to the truth, but even that was still hard for him to comprehend. Harper stayed up all morning convincing her father that Gemma wasn’t coming home, and that was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.
But she knew things were only going to get harder. Harper didn’t even know what Penn and the other girls were, let alone how to stop them or how to get Gemma back.
Lying in bed all day wouldn’t solve anything, though. Harper rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table, meaning to check the time, and noticed she had two missed calls from a number she didn’t know. Gemma had left her cell phone behind, so if she called, it would be from an unfamiliar number.
Harper’s heart dropped to her stomach. She’d been so dead tired that she’d slept right through her phone ringing. Harper hurried to check her voice mail.
“You have one new message,” the automated voice told her, and Harper cursed herself under her breath. If she’d missed a call from her sister, she’d never be able to forgive herself.
“Hey, Harper, this is Daniel,” his deep voice came through the phone.
“Daniel,” Harper whispered, and put her free hand on her forehead, listening to his message.
“I got your number from the surly girl at the library. I wanted to make sure that you got home all right and see how you’re doing after … well, you know, what happened last night.
“I’ve been keeping an eye out for Gemma, like you asked me to. I took the boat out earlier, but I didn’t see her. I’ll keep looking, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.
“So anyway, give me a call later.” Daniel paused. “I hope you’re doing okay.”
When his message ended, she left her phone at her ear for a minute, even after the automated voice assured her that she had no other messages.
It was thoughtful of Daniel to call and check up on her, but Harper couldn’t call him back. The strange dalliance she’d had with him had to be pushed out of her mind. If he found out anything about Gemma, Daniel would let her know, but that was the only time she should be talking to him. Whatever was happening to Gemma came first. Harper had to deal with that before she could think of anything else.
Harper had slept in her clothes from last night, and they stank like the ocean and sweat. She grabbed a change of clothes, then crept across the hall to the bathroom in case her father was home. There was nothing more she could say to him about Gemma’s disappearance, but she knew Brian would want to keep rehashing it until it made sense.
She cleaned up quickly, then got dressed. She’d started to sneak back to her room when she glanced over at Gemma’s. Something about the sight of the darkened room broke her heart. Pausing at the doorway, Harper couldn’t help but wonder if Gemma would ever stay in this room again.
Harper swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head, trying to shake off the feeling. Of course Gemma would stay here again. Harper wouldn’t stop searching until Gemma was home.
When Harper turned back to her own room, she nearly yelped in surprise. Alex was sitting on her bed, staring down at the floor and looking forlorn.
“Alex?” Harper managed once the beating of her heart slowed. “What are you doing here?” She stepped into her room.
“Oh, sorry.” He lifted his head and motioned toward the downstairs. “Your dad let me in. I came over to talk.”
She glanced back behind her, half expecting Brian to be standing in the hall eavesdropping, and then she shut the bedroom door.
“How did my dad seem?” Harper asked.
“Okay, I guess.” Alex shrugged, and she noticed a cut on his forehead, probably from whatever had knocked him out last night. “A little sad and confused. He asked me about Gemma, but I told him I don’t know where she is.”
She’d meant to call Alex so they could get their stories straight about what had happened to Gemma. The truth was that they didn’t know where she was, and that was as good an answer as any.
“So, what the hell happened last night?” Alex asked her directly.
“I have no idea.” Harper shook her head and sat down in the chair in front of her desk. “I don’t even know what those … those things were.”
“I can barely even remember what they look like anymore.” His brow furrowed as he tried to think. “Last night’s a weird blur of images that don’t even make sense.”
“That’s probably because you hit your head,” Harper said.
Alex seemed to think about it for a minute, then said, “No. I don’t think so. I remember everything really clearly until we were in the cove and that song started.”
Harper had actually forgotten about the song until Alex mentioned it. She couldn’t remember the words, but the melody surfaced, like a half-forgotten dream.
There were a few minutes in the cove that Harper couldn’t really remember, either. The events were a haze of confusion, though she recalled a longing and a pull toward the phantom song. Daniel had helped keep her from diving into the ocean the way Alex had, but that was about all she could remember until they were on the boat again.
“Did you swim to the island?” Harper asked, realizing that he must have.
“I think so.” He shook his head again. “I can’t really remember much. There was the song, then I was swimming, and then I was on the island. Those pretty girls were there, and … and Gemma. She kissed me…” He swallowed hard.
“Do you remember the creature?” Harper asked.
“The bird?” Alex asked, and she nodded. “Is that what it was? A really big bird?”
“It was more like a bird-monster,” Harper tried to explain. “But then it changed and turned into Penn.”
“So those pretty girls are some kind of shape-shifters?” Alex asked. “Because they turned into fish, right? Gemma and the girls turned into fish, then swam off?”
“Mermaids, I think,” Harper corrected him.
“This is so insane,” Alex said quietly, almost to himself, then he looked up at Harper, his dark brown eyes locking seriously on hers. “Stupid question time, but I have to ask. Gemma hasn’t, like … always been a mermaid, has she? This isn’t some family curse thing like on Teen Wolf?”
“No.” Harper smiled despite herself and shook her head. “No. There’s no history of mermaids or any other mythological beings in our family.”
“Okay. Good,” Alex said, then changed his mind and wagged his head back and forth. “Well, not really. If you knew what this was, it would be easier to deal with.”
“It certainly would,” she agreed.
“So you don’t have any idea what Gemma or Penn or the girls might be?” Alex asked.
“No,” Harper admitted regretfully.
“And you don’t know where they went?”
“Nope.”
“So. How are we gonna get her back?” Alex asked.
“Well…” Harper took a deep breath. “We figure out what they are and how to stop them, then we find them and we take Gemma back.”

Copyright © 2012 by Amanda Hocking

ARC Review + Chapter 1: Whispers at Moonrise by C.C. Hunter

Whispers at Moonrise by C.C. Hunter

• Reading level: Ages 12 and up
• Paperback: 400 pages
• Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin; Original edition (October 2, 2012)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1250011914

Shadow Falls Camp is back in session with the most explosive installment yet.  A shocking new threat will rock Shadow Falls—changing it forever and altering Kylie’s journey in ways she never imagined.

Even at a camp for supernatural teens, Kylie Galen has never been normal. Not only can she see ghosts, but she doesn’t seem to belong to any one species—she exhibits traits from them all. As Kylie struggles to unlock the secrets of her identity, she begins to worry that Lucas will never be able to accept her for what she is, and what she isn’t…a werewolf.  With his pack standing in their way, Kylie finds herself turning more and more to Derek, the only person in her life who’s willing to accept the impossible.

As if life isn’t hard enough, she starts getting visits from the ghost of Holiday, her closest confidante.  Trouble is, Holiday isn’t dead…not yet anyway.  Now Kylie must race to save one of her own from an unseen danger before it’s too late—all while trying to stop her relationship with Lucas from slipping away forever.   In a world of constant confusion, there’s only one thing Kylie knows for sure.  Change is inevitable and all things must come to an end…maybe even her time at Shadow Falls.

The breathtaking fourth installment of the New York Times bestselling Shadow Falls series from author C. C. Hunter...Whispers at Moonrise.

Hmmm, I feel guilty because this will surely be a biased review. WHY? I hadn’t followed the series; in fact this is the first book I’ll be reading from C.C. Hunter. I just asked to review this when I saw her name and all the fussed about her books, not even thinking that this is the fourth book in the series. So, I’m not so totally in love with the story! Sorry!

Kylie Galen, the heroine, finally knew what she is, a Chameleon, BUT she doesn’t know what that means! More confusing of all, she can see ghosts and she seems to have the characteristics of all supernatural species. As if she doesn’t have enough problems, her love life goes in the way. Lucas, a werewolf has been torn because he must be with a werewolf too to have his way in the council, and Kylie isn’t one. So Kylie doesn’t have a choice but to lean on Derek, only that he is having problems of his own too!!! Amazingly, Holiday, a friend of hers visits her as a ghost, only that he isn’t dead! (Now, I’m finally sure, this book is getting in my head!!!).Now, Kylie must save someone, then mend her relationship with Lucas, and figure out Derek and finally understand what really she is! Confusion really is in the air.

The plot is something I will never get tired of. Mystery, confusion, shocking revelations and twists are all over the book. Hunter wrote a well-developed storyline, only that I hope it didn’t dwell much on figuring out about the chameleon thing. It was action-packed, and I was constantly in a roller-coaster of emotions, I laughed, cried, got pissed, and anything in between! The ending is a certified cliffhanger I never saw coming, and for that, I look forward to reading C.C. Hunter’s book, and if given the chance will even want to read the prior books.

What annoys me a little of this book is how many times, Kylie doesn’t know what she was but still keeps thinking about it plus, who should she choose between Derek and Lucas, but knowing that she don’t know too. These are two topics that I may as well skip. I’m not a hater of love triangles, but this book made me frustrated. In my humble opinion, she don’t deserve to have any of those boys, they’re too stupid and unworthy of her!!! (Good job to Hunter though, for pulling a triangle like that, making one think who’s perfect, then ruining it after, to change her reader’s mind).

WHISPERS AT MOONRISE is the sequel in C.C. Hunter’s “Shadow Falls” that you shouldn’t miss. Filled with mystery, resolutions, more questions, love story, friendship, creepiness, magic, werewolves, chameleon, this book will leave you breathless and wanting for more, especially to those who followed the series! Another paranormal at its best! Highly recommended for everyone!

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DISCLAIMER: I received this pdf  from FreshFiction in exchange of my honest review. First appeared on FreshFiction.

Chapter One


Kylie Galen stood on the porch outside the Shadow Falls office, panic stabbing at her sanity. A gust of late August wind, still chilled by her father’s departing spirit, picked up her long strands of blond hair and scattered them across her face. She didn’t brush them away. She didn’t breathe. She just stood there, air trapped in her lungs, while she stared through the wisps of hair at the trees swaying in the breeze.
Why does my life have to be so damn hard? The question rolled around her head like a Ping-Pong ball gone wild. The answer spun back just as quick.
Because you’re not all human. For the last few months, she’d struggled to identify the type of non-human blood that rushed through her veins. Now she knew.
According to her dear ol’ dad, she was … a chameleon. As in a lizard, just like the ones she’d seen sunning themselves in her backyard. Okay, so maybe not just like those, but close enough. And here she’d been worried about being a vampire or a werewolf because it would be a little hard to adjust to drinking blood or shape-shifting on full moons. But this … this was … unfathomable. Her father had to be wrong.
Her heart pounded against her chest as if seeking escape. She finally breathed. In, and then out. Her thoughts shot away from the lizard issue to the other bad stuff.
Yup. In the last five minutes she’d been slapped with not one, not two, not even three, but with four oh-crap eye-opening revelations.
Well, one thing—Derek’s confession that he loved her—couldn’t completely be called bad. But it sure as hell couldn’t be called good. Not now. Not when she considered them history. Not when she’d spent the last few weeks trying to convince herself that they were just friends.
Her mind juggled all four disclosures. She didn’t know which to focus on first. Or maybe her mind did know. I’m a freaking lizard!
“For real?” she spoke aloud. The Texas wind snatched away her words. She hoped it would take them all the way to her father—wherever the dead who hadn’t completely passed over went to wait. “Seriously, Dad?”
Of course, Dad didn’t answer. After two months of dealing with one spirit or another, the whole ghost-whispering gift and its limitations still managed to piss her off. “Damn!”
She took another step toward the main office’s door to unload on Holiday Brandon, the camp leader, then stopped. Burnett James, the other camp leader and a cold to the touch but hot to look at vampire, was with Holiday. Since Kylie couldn’t hear them arguing anymore, she figured that meant they might be doing something else—like sucking face, swapping spit, doing the tongue tango. All phrases her bad-attitude vampire roommate Della would use. Which probably meant Kylie was in a bad mood. But didn’t she deserve a little attitude after everything that had happened?
Clenching her fists, she stared at the office’s front door. She’d inadvertently interrupted their first kiss and she didn’t want to do the same with their second. Especially when Burnett had threatened to resign from Shadow Falls. Surely Holiday could change his mind. Couldn’t she?
Besides, maybe Kylie needed to calm down. To think things through before she ran to Holiday in bad-attitude hysterics. Her thoughts shifted to her latest ghost issue. How could a ghost of someone who was alive appear to Kylie? A trick, right? Had to be a trick.
She glanced around to make sure the ghost had really gone. The cold had vanished.
Turning, she shot down the porch steps and headed around to the back of the office. She started running, wanting to experience the sense of freedom she got when she ran, when she ran fast, ran non-human fast.
The wind picked up the black dress she’d worn to Ellie’s funeral and sent the hem dancing against her thighs. Her feet moved in rhythm, barely missing the Reeboks she usually wore, but when she arrived at the edge of the woods, she came to an abrupt halt—so abrupt that the heels on her black dress shoes cut deep ruts into the earth.
She couldn’t go into the woods. She didn’t have a shadow—the mandatory person with her to help ward off the evil Mario and his rogue buddies if they decided to attack.
Attack again.
So far the old man’s attempts at ending her life had proved futile, but two of those times had resulted in the death of someone else.
Guilt fluttered through her already tight chest. Fear followed it. Mario had proven how far he’d go to get to her, how evil he was when he’d taken his own grandson’s life right in front of her. How could anyone be that wicked?
She stared at the trees and watched as their leaves danced in the breeze. It was a completely normal slice of scenery that should have put her at peace.
But she felt no peace. The woods, or rather something that hid within, dared her to enter. Taunted her to move into the thick line of trees. Confused by the strange feeling, she tried to push it away, but the feeling intensified.
She inhaled the green scent of the forest, and she knew.
Knew with clarity.
Knew with certainty.
Mario wouldn’t give up. Sooner or later she would face him again. And it wouldn’t be serene, tranquil, or peaceful. Only one of them would walk away.
You will not be alone. The words echoed deep within her as if to offer her peace. No peace came. The shadows between the trees danced on the ground. Calling her, beckoning her. To do what, she didn’t know.
Trepidation took another lap around her chest. She dug the heels of her shoes deeper into the hard dirt. The heel of her right shoe cracked—an ominous little sound that seemed to punctuate the silence.
“Crap!” She stared down at her feet. The one word seemed yanked from the air, leaving nothing but a hum of eeriness.
And that’s when she heard it.
Someone drew in a raspy breath. While the sound came only at a whisper, she knew that the owner of this breath stood behind her. Stood close. And since no chill of death surrounded her, she knew it wasn’t from the spirit world.
The sound came again. Someone fed life-giving air into their lungs. Odd how she now feared the living more than she feared the dead.
Her heart thudded to a stop. Much like the grooves left in the earth by her three-inch heels, her growing dread left ruts in her courage.
She wasn’t ready. If it was Mario, she wasn’t ready. Whatever it was she needed to do, whatever plan or fate she was destined to follow, she needed more time.


Copyright © 2012 by Christie Craig

Book Review + Read Online: Hunter's Season by Thea Harrison

Hunter's Season by Thea Harrison

• File Size: 290 KB
• Print Length: 105 pages
• Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd. (September 18, 2012)
• Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
• Language: English
• ASIN: B0098ZYB3U

A Novella of the Elder Races

Duty. Devotion. Desire. When fate brings two isolated people together, love is in the cards.

As a palace guard and assassin for the Dark Fae, Xanthe always wore a mask, hiding her emotions to do her duty. But when her identity is compromised, she trades undercover work for guarding Queen Niniane—a position that often brings her in contact with Chancellor Aubrey Riordan.

Aubrey’s trust is shattered. A year ago his wife tried to assassinate their new queen in his name, a betrayal of everything he believes in. And now an attack on his life is proof the dark conspiracy is not yet over. Although injured and weak, Aubrey can’t help but be drawn to this shy assassin and loyal protector. Xanthe is everything Naida wasn’t, and the passion she stirs in him is something he thought had long passed him by.

Warning: Take a man recovering from an assassination attempt, the assassin sworn to protect him, add in a magical Tarot card deck and an isolated cabin, and watch the sparks fly!

I can’t believe this is the last book in the arc of The Tarot’s Journey. I’m very disappointed in myself that this is my first and last chance with this story, however I’m glad I enjoyed HUNTER’S SEASON.

Like I said, I haven’t read the previous books in the novella and although other reviewers said Xanthe and Aubrey appeared in previous books, I think their past/history was given well in the story that I need not to ask. A standalone book really serves its purpose.

Xanthe is an assassin that’s sworn to protect a Chancellor who was injured from an attack. She could kick ass, she’s fierce, but when it comes to Aubrey (chancellor) she’s so emotionally vulnerable. Worse, she was asked to take him under her roof! Aubrey, still broken and hurt from the betrayal of his wife by trying to assassinate the queen, is in risk. Unable to trust quickly as he did before, he’s on guard from Xanthe but can’t deny the feelings she arouse in him whenever she’s around. Can he realize his errors in time, to give their growing attraction time to blossom? Brought together by a very wise plot of Queen Niniane who noticed Xanthe’s tenderness for Aubrey, they now have their sweet little time together to explore each other’s feelings.

This novella, is a nice break from fantasy/paranormal stories, in here, we have pure romance. The adventures were mentioned but it does not occur between the main characters. There’s the mystery, action but it happened off the page. All we have is two people who had their own little bubble outside the world. Not that I’m complaining!

Their love story is a slow dance that I enjoyed well, it’s not instantaneous although the attraction is already there. Every minute, every exchange of words, is romantic. It’s nice to see Xanthe belittles herself that Aubrey wouldn’t like her and Aubrey always proves her wrong, not only he recovers from his injury but also from a broken heart that only Xanthe could fix. The characters were engaging and complements one another.

One thing though, since this my first glimpse of the Tarot’s journey, I may not feel as connected to the other characters that were mentioned before. However, based on my romantic side, this is a very good book, that would leave you breathless and thankful. Highly Recommended if you’re looking for sweet/hot romance!

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DISCLAIMER: I received this pdf  from FreshFiction in exchange of my honest review. First appeared on FreshFiction.

READ ONLINE: 

ARC Review + Read Online: Shadow of the Wolf by Dana Marie Bell

Shadow of the Wolf by Dana Marie Bell

• File Size: 419 KB
• Print Length: 207 pages
• Publisher: Samhain Publishing, Ltd. (September 18, 2012)
• Sold by: Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
• Language: English
• ASIN: B008QWCSTK
• Strike a match, light the candle…and fall into the spell.
  Heart’s Desire, Book 1
  
  Christopher Beckett is from an ancient line of wizards, but with one aspect that sets him apart. His wolf. Right now that wolf is howling for a mate. Knowing it’s only a matter of time before the wolf’s needs override everything else in his life, Chris casts the spell all the Becketts have used to call their mates to them.
  
  His wish list is short: She must be of a lineage at least as old as his own. And she must accept his wolf. When his mate appears, he realizes his list should have been one item longer.
  
  Alannah Evans, a powerful witch of the Evans Coven, has no problem with Chris’s wolf. It’s the wizard part that sticks in her magical craw. Witches and wizards have always been at odds, so by rights, she and Chris shouldn’t be striking sparks of attraction this bright. But Chris will not be denied, and gradually she finds herself trusting him—then falling into the fire of desire.
  
  When it becomes clear an old enemy has targeted them both for death, Chris charges into a duel that could cost him his life. Or worse: Lana.
  
  Product Warnings
  Product contains explicit sex, graphic language, magic, mayhem, and a wet, naked wolf shifter bearing hot chocolate. Mmm… chocolate.
  

SHADOW OF THE WOLF is a modern story of a wizard Christopher Beckett who casts a spell to bring him a mate. He also happens to be cursed as a werewolf due to his ancestor’s misbehavior in jilting a witch. So, to grant the desire of the wolf form, he must find a mate who’s willing to accept the wolf in him. And to aid him in selecting his mate, his wish list includes: she must be of a lineage as old as his own. Bonus if she’s a beauty.

And then here comes Allanah Evans who, as it seems got stuck in the middle of nowhere. Everything seems to say she can’t go home just yet—her car won’t run, her phone’s lowbatt, no one’s around to call for help, the storm’s getting worse. Little does she know that she was called to be the mate of a powerful wizard. Yes, she came from a lineage as old as his own, the only problem is, she’s a witch. And as far as everyone knows, wizards and witches don’t mix well together. Add to their conflicting romance, is the evil plot of an old enemy who wants Chris dead, or rather both of them dead.

From the moment I read the synopsis, I know that this book is for me. I have always been fascinated with witches, their spells and their magic. Luckily, I wasn’t disappointed since we’re not only treated for poetic spells (sometimes funny), but also with lots of magic-fighting scenes, distorting spells and sensuous romance.

The characters are funny—I always caught myself laughing at their banters, especially Chris’ brothers, I think humor’s their surname :D. Also, each of the characters is unique and easy to relate to. Dana Marie Bell really gives them life.

And Chris’ brothers? They’re kind of immature, but totally swoon-worthy. I would love to read more from each of them in the upcoming books.

SHADOW OF THE WOLF, is a fun, sexy, magical, read, of two people who learned to love each other despite their differences and willing to sacrifice their lives just to save the other.

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DISCLAIMER: I received this pdf  from FreshFiction in exchange of my honest review. First appeared on FreshFiction.

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Book Review +Chapter 1: Fated by Alyson Noel

Fated by Alyson Noel

• Reading level: Ages 12 and up
• Hardcover: 368 pages
• Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin (May 22, 2012)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0312664850
• ISBN-13: 978-0312664855

Until now, he's existed only in her dreams -
but fate is about to bring them together.

I shove through the crowd, knocking into girls and bouncing off boys, until one in particular catches me, steadies me.
I feel so secure, so at home in his arms.
I melt against his chest-lift my gaze to meet his. Gasping when I stare into a pair of icy blue eyes banded by brilliant flecks of gold that shine like kaleidoscopes, reflecting my image thousands of times.
The boy from my dream.
The one who died in my arms.

 The cover is so gorgeous. The hair, the earrings, the color (I got the pink version) it all mixed so well.Pretty!!!

I’ve read Alyson Noel’s Immortal Series, although I haven’t read the last book yet. For me that series, has high and lows, it got a good beginning, but the middle books started to go slow for me (like, you fell in love with a television show, then the director thought of extending it because he thought we’ll like it, but no, it just actually ruined the story, better to go with the original storyline I guess), a friend o fmine said, the last book EVERLASTING is as good as the first book, so I think I’ll give it a try.>:D. With FATED, her new series, I have doubts, but with the nicest cover among her books up-to-date, and a promising new theme, I couldn’t resist the lure, and so here I am, just finished reading it and fully-satisfied.>:D

Daire and her mother, Jennika have always moved to different places and get to interact with famous people, that’s one great privilege of your mother being a Hollywood make-up artist. One queer thing she has never told anyone even her mother, since they won’t believe her, is that there are times, when all stand still except her, like time has stopped except for her. It’s fun and she got used to it but on her sixteenth birthday, lots of things begin to happen and they’re not good. She’s been haunted by dreams and reality alike, worse, her mother and doctor believes she’s delusional. When she and her mother don’t know what to do, Paloma, Daire’s grandmother suggested to take care of Daire. So Daire goes with her grandma to Enchantment, Mexico (the name already gives the vibe), learns her bloodline, her ability, her family’s past, her destiny and the boy she must save.

I don’t know why, but I fully understand the prologue, and the story just got better the more I read. I always love Noel’s writing style, I just hope that she won’t get sidetracked with the middle books and continue her planned storyline. Noel doesn’t just write stories, she brings her readers into her story and made them experience themselves. I love the animal guides, the sayings, the crow prints in the pages made this book superb. The characters, flawed as ordinary humans, are all unique and relatable. The idea of a good/bad twin (Dace and Cade) is good, though how I wish it isn’t so clear who Daire wants. It ends where the pieces started to clicked and yet leaves enough space for new questions that hopefully will be answered in the next book. The Native American Mythology is a new theme for me that will entertain me for awhile. :D

FATED is not just another paranormal story, it has substance, family relationships, friendship, a romance that’s not over-the-top, learning and lore. It’s a promising first book that not only engage and keep you on edge but would surely make you a fan of the Soul Seekers Series (glad to be part of it). A page turner from start to finish. Very highly recommended!

P.S. Even if you’re not into The Immortal Series or Riley Bloom Series, give this one a try, it won’t disappoint you if you’re looking for a fresh read.

Thanks to Alexandra Mencel at St. Martin’s Griffin for this finished copy and a promised of ECHO in exchange for my honest review. Looking forward to reading it..:D

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CHAPTER 1
There are moments in life when everything pauses.
The earth hesitates, the atmosphere stills, and time shrinks and folds onto itself until it collapses into a big tired heap.
As I push through the small wooden door of the riad where Jennika and I have camped out the past several weeks, trading the hush of the rose-and-honeysuckle-scented courtyard for the chaos of the serpentine maze of medina--it happens again.
But instead of mimicking the stillness like I usually do, I decide to go with it and try something fun. Easing my way along connecting salmon-colored walls, I pass a small, thin man caught in midstride, press my fingers against the soft white cotton of his gandora, and gently spin him around until he's facing the opposite way. Then after ducking beneath a mangy black cat that, caught in midleap, appears to be flying, I stop at the corner where I take a moment to rearrange a display of shiny brass lanterns an old man is selling, before moving on to the very next stall where I slip a pair of bright blue babouches onto my feet, decide that I like them, and leave my old leather sandals along with a fistful of crumpled-up dirhams as payment.
My eyes burning with the effort of keeping them open, knowing the instant I blink, the gandora-clad man will be one step farther from his destination, the cat will land on its mark, and two vendors will gaze at their wares in total confusion--the scene will return to one of perpetual chaos.
Though when I spot the glowing people hovering on the periphery, studying me in the careful way that they do, I'm quick to squinch my eyes shut and block them from view. Hoping that this time, just like all the others, they'll fade away too. Return to wherever it is that they go when they're not watching me.
I used to think everyone experienced moments like that, until I confided in Jennika who shot me a skeptical look and blamed it on jet lag.
Jennika blames everything on jet lag. Insists time stops for no one--that it's our job to keep up with its frantic forward march. But even back then I knew better--I've spent my entire life crossing time zones, and what I'd experienced had nothing to do with a whacked-out body clock.
Still, I was careful not to mention it again. I just waited quietly, patiently, hoping the moment would soon return.
And it did.
Over the past few years they've been slowly increasing, until lately, ever since we arrived in Morocco, I've been averaging three a week.
A guy my age passes, his shoulder purposely slamming into mine, his dark eyes leering in a way that reminds me to arrange my blue silk scarf so that it covers my hair. I round a corner, eager to arrive well before Vane, so I can catch the Djemâa el Fna at dusk. Banging into the square, where I'm confronted by a long line of open-air grills bearing goats and pigeons and other unidentifiable meats, their skinned and glazed carcasses rotating on spits, shooting savory clouds of spice-laden smoke into the air...the hypnotic lull of the snake charmer's tune emanating from cross-legged old men perched on thick woven mats, playing their pungis as glassy-eyed cobras rise up before them...all of it unfolding to the spellbinding pulse of gnaoua drums that continuously thrum in the background--the sound-track for the nightly resurrection of a bewitching square returning to life.
I take a deep breath, savoring the heady blend of exotic oils and jasmine, as I cast a final glance around, knowing this is one of the last times I'll see it this way. The film will wrap soon, and Jennika and I will be off to what ever movie, on what ever location requires her services as an award-winning makeup artist. Who knows if we'll ever return?
Picking my way toward the first food cart, the one beside the snake charmer where Vane waits, I steal a handful of much-needed seconds to crush that annoying ping of weakness that grabs at my gut every time that I see him--every time I take in his tousled sandy blond hair, deep blue eyes, and softly curving lips.
Sucker! I think, shaking my head, adding: Fool!
It's not like I don't know any better. It's not like I don't know the rules.
The key is to not get involved--to never allow myself to care. To just focus on having some fun, and never look back when it's time to move on.
Vane's pretty face, just like all the other pretty faces before him, belongs to his legions of fans. Not one of those faces has ever belonged to me--and they never, ever will.
Having grown up on movie sets since I was old enough for Jennika to sling me into a backpack, I've played my role as the kid of a crew member countless times: Stay quiet, stay out of the way, lend a hand when asked, and never confuse movie set relationships for the real thing.
The fact that I've been dealing with celebrities my entire life leaves me not so easily impressed, which is probably the number one reason they're always so quick to like me. I mean, while I'm okay to look at--tall-ish, skinny-ish, with long dark hair, fair-ish skin, and bright green eyes that people like to comment on, I'm pretty much your standard issue girl. Though I never fall to pieces when I meet someone famous. I never get all red-cheeked and gushy and insecure. And the thing is, they're so unused to that, they usually end up pursuing me.
My first kiss was on a beach in Rio de Janeiro with a boy who'd just won an MTV award for "Best Kiss" (clearly none of those voters had actually kissed him). My second was on the Pont Neuf in Paris with a boy who'd just made the cover of Vanity Fair. And other than their being richer, more famous, and more stalked by paparazzi--our lives really aren't all that different.
Most of them are transients--passing through their own lives, just like I'm passing through mine. Moving from place to place, friendship to friendship, relationship to relationship--it's the only life that I know.
It's hard to form a lasting connection when your permanent address is an eight-inch mailbox in the UPS store.
Still, as I inch my way closer, I can't help the way my breath hitches, the way my insides thrum and swirl. And when he turns, flashing me that slow, languorous smile that's about to make him world famous, his eyes meeting mine when he says, "Hey, Daire--Happy Sweet Sixteen," I can't help but think of the millions of girls who would do just about anything to stand in my pointy blue babouches.
I return the smile, flick a little wave of my hand, then bury it in the side pocket of the olive-green army jacket I always wear. Pretending not to notice the way his gaze roams over me, straying from my waist-length brown hair peeking out from my scarf, to the tie-dyed tank top that clings under my jacket, to the skinny dark denim jeans, all the way down to the brand-new slippers I wear on my feet.
"Nice." He places his foot beside mine, providing me with a view of the his-and-hers version of the very same shoe. Laughing when he adds, "Maybe we can start a trend when we head back to the States. What do you think?"
We.
There is no we.
I know it. He knows it. And it bugs me that he tries to pretend otherwise.
The cameras stopped rolling hours ago, and yet here he is, still playing a role. Acting as though our brief, on-location hookup means something more.
Acting like we won't really end long before our passports are stamped RETURN.
And that's all it takes for those annoyingly soft girly feelings to vanish as quickly as a flame in the rain. Allowing the Daire I know, the Daire I've honed myself to be, to stand in her place.
"Doubtful." I smirk, kicking his shoe with mine. A little harder than necessary, but then again, he deserves it for thinking I'm lame enough to fall for his act. "So, what do you say--food? I'm dying for one of those beef brochettes, maybe even a sausage one too. Oh--and some fries would be good!"
I make for the food stalls, but Vane has another idea. His hand reaches for mine, fingers entwining until they're laced nice and tight. "In a minute," he says, pulling me so close my hip bumps against his. "I thought we might do something special--in honor of your birthday and all. What do you think about matching tattoos?"
I gape. Surely he's joking.
"Yeah, you know, mehndi. Nothing permanent. Still, I thought it could be kinda cool." He arcs his left brow in his trademark Vane Wick way, and I have to fight not to frown in return.
Nothing permanent. That's my theme song--my mission statement, if you will. Still, mehndi's not quite the same as a press-on. It has its own life span. One that will linger long after Vane's studio-financed, private jet lifts him high into the sky and right out of my life.
Though I don't mention any of that, instead I just say, "You know the director will kill you if you show up on set tomorrow covered in henna."
Vane shrugs. Shrugs in a way I've seen too many times, on too many young actors before him. He's in full-on star-power mode. Thinks he's indispensable. That he's the only seventeen-year-old guy with a hint of talent, golden skin, wavy blond hair, and piercing blue eyes that can light up a screen and make the girls (and most of their moms) swoon. It's a dangerous way to see yourself--especially when you make your living in Hollywood. It's the kind of thinking that leads straight to multiple rehab stints, trashy reality TV shows, desperate ghostwritten memoirs, and low-budget movies that go straight to DVD.
Still, when he tugs on my arm, it's not like I protest. I follow him to the old, black-clad woman parked on a woven beige mat with a pile of henna bags stacked in her lap.
Vane negotiates the price as I settle before her and offer my hands. Watching as she snips the corner from one of the bags and squeezes a series of squiggly lines over my flesh, not even thinking to consult me on what type of design I might want. But then, it's not like I had one in mind. I just lean against Vane who's kneeling beside me and let her do her thing.
"You must let the color to set for as long as it is possible. The darker the stain, the more that he loves you," she says, her English halting, broken, but the message is clear. Emphasized by the meaningful look she shoots Vane and me.
"Oh, we're not--" I start to say, We're not in love! But Vane's quick to stop me.
Slipping an arm around my shoulder, he presses his lips to my cheek, bestowing the old woman with the kind of smile that encourages her to smile back in a startling display of grayed and missing teeth. His actions stunning me stupid, leaving me to sit slack faced and dumb--with heated cheeks, muddied hands, and a rising young breakout star draped over my back.
Having never been in love, I admit that I'm definitely no expert on the subject. I have no idea what it feels like.
Though I'm pretty sure it doesn't feel like this.
I'm pretty dang positive Vane's just cast himself in yet another starring role--playing the part of my dashing young love interest, if only to appease this strange, Moroccan woman we'll never see again.
Still, Vane is an actor, and an audience is an audience--no matter how small.
Once my hands are covered in elaborate vines and scrolls, the old woman reminds me to allow the stain to take hold while she gets to work on Vane's feet. But the moment her attention turns, I use the edge of my nail to scrape away little bits. Unable to keep from smiling when I see the paste fall in a loose powdery spray that blends with the dirt.
It's silly, I know, but I can't risk there being even the slightest sliver of truth to her words. The movie will wrap soon, Vane and I will go separate ways, and falling in love is an option I just can't afford.
With our hands and feet fully tended, we make our way along the sidewalk grills, devouring five beef and sausage brochettes, a pile of fries, and two Fantas between us, before drifting among the square's nightly circus that includes snake charmers, acrobats, jugglers, fortune-tellers, healers, monkey trainers, and musicians. There's even a woman who's set up shop removing black rotted teeth from old men, which the two of us watch in horrified fascination.
Arms slung around each other's waists, hips rubbing together on every other step, Vane's breath tickles the curve of my ear when he slips a mini bottle of vodka from his pocket and offers me first swig.
I shake my head. Push it away. In any other place I might be game, but Marrakesh is different, and mysterious, and a little bit scary even. Not to mention I have no idea what the local laws are, though I'm guessing they're strict, and the last thing I need is to end up in a Moroccan jail for underage drinking.
It's the last thing he needs too, but it's not like he listens. Vane just smiles, unscrews the cap, and takes a few swallows before he tucks it back into his pocket and pulls me into a dark abandoned alleyway.
I stumble. Squint. Grasp at the wall as I fight to find my way. Steadied by the warmth of his hands at my waist, and the reassuring phrase that flits through my head--the one Jennika used to wean me from my night-light back when I was a kid:
You gotta adjust to the dark so the light can find you.
He pushes the scarf from my head, leaving it to fall around my neck, as his face veers so close all I can really make out are deep blue eyes, and the most perfectly parting lips that are quick to claim mine.
I merge into the kiss, tasting the lingering traces of vodka still coating his tongue, as my hands explore the muscled expanse of his chest, the taut curve of his shoulders, the clean edge of his jaw. My fingers twisting into his silky mane of hair, as his slip under my jacket--under my tank top--seeking, discovering--bunching the fabric higher and higher as he works his way up.
Our bodies melding, conforming into a tangle of grinding hips--a crush of lips. The kiss becoming so heated, so urgent, my breath grows ragged, too fast, as my body ignites like a freshly struck match.
So delirious with the feel of him--the warmth of him--the promise of him--I surrender to the nudge of his fingers working inside my bra--circling, pulling, as my own fingers move south. Wandering over a well-defined abdomen, then lower still, down to his waistband. Ready to venture to places I've yet to explore, when he breaks away, his voice no more than a whisper when he says, "C'mon, I know a place." The words thick, eyes bleary, as we fight to catch our breaths, fight to keep from pressing forward and claiming the kiss once again. "Seriously. I can't believe I didn't think of it before--it's gonna be epic--follow me!" He finds my hand, pulls me out of the dark and back into the bright, lively square.
At first I go willingly, prepared to follow him anywhere. Though it's not long before I'm seduced by the sound of that incessant pulsing rhythm--the trance-inducing lure of the gnaoua drum.
"Daire--c'mon, it's this way. What gives?" He frowns, brows slanted in confusion when I drop his hand and keep going, not bothering to check if he follows--no longer caring about anything other than locating the source of that beat.
I squeeze through the tightly packed crowd until I'm standing before it--my head filled with the hypnotic rhythm of that red leather drum, my eyes swimming with the flash of crimson silk, gold coins, and a carefully veiled face revealing nothing more than a pair of intense, dark, kohl-rimmed eyes.
"It's a dude--a trannie!" Vane shoves in beside me, mesmerized by the sight of the caftan-clad male with his hands thrust high, golden cymbals clinking, body wildly writhing.
But that's all that Vane sees.
He doesn't see what I see.
Doesn't see the way everything stops.
Doesn't see the way the atmosphere changes--growing shimmery, hazy, like peering through carnival glass.
Doesn't see the way the glowing ones appear--hovering along the perimeter.
Doesn't see the way they beckon to me--beg me to join them.
Only I can see that.
Even after repeatedly blinking, trying to return the scene to normal, it's no use. Not only are they still there, but now they've brought friends.
Crows.
Thousands and thousands of crows that fill up the square.
Landing on the drummer, the transvestite belly dancer--soaring and swooping and settling wherever they please--turning the once-vibrant square into a field of dark beady eyes that relentlessly watch me.
The glowing people creep forward--arms outstretched, fingers grasping--stomping the crows to a mess of black, bloodied bits.
And there's nothing I can do to stop their progression--nothing I can do to convince time to march forward again.
So I do the only thing that I can--I run.
Bolting through the crowd, pushing, screaming, shoving, shouting for everyone to get out of my way. Vaguely aware of Vane calling after me--his fingers grasping, pulling me close to his chest, urging me to stop, to turn, to not be afraid.
My body sags in relief as I lift my face to meet his. Wondering how I'll ever explain my sudden bout of craziness now that everything's returned to normal again, only to gaze past his shoulder and find the crows replaced with something much worse--thousands of bloodied, severed heads hanging on spikes that fill up the square.
Their gruesome mouths yawning into a terrible chorus that calls out my name--urging me to listen--to heed their warning--before it's too late.
One voice in particular rising above all the rest, its grisly battered face bearing an eerie resemblance to one in a crumpled old photo I know all too well.

FATED. Copyright 2012 by Alyson Noel. Macmillan

ARC Review + Chapter 1: Wake by Amanda Hocking

Wake by Amanda Hocking

• Paperback
• Publisher: Pan Macmillan
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 1447205723
• ISBN-13: 978-1447205722

Gorgeous. Fearless. Dangerous. They're the kind of girls you envy; the kind of girls you want to hate. Strangers in town for the summer, Penn, Lexi and Thea have caught everyone's attention—but it’s Gemma who’s attracted theirs. She’s the one they’ve chosen to be part of their group.

Gemma seems to have it all—she’s carefree, pretty, and falling in love with Alex, the boy next door. He’s always been just a friend, but this summer they’ve taken their relationship to the next level, and now there’s no going back. Then one night, Gemma’s ordinary life changes forever. She’s taking a late night swim under the stars when she finds Penn, Lexi and Thea partying on the cove. They invite her to join them, and the next morning she wakes up on the beach feeling groggy and sick, knowing something is different.

Suddenly Gemma is stronger, faster, and more beautiful than ever. But her new powers come with a terrifying price. And as she uncovers the truth, she’s is forced to choose between staying with those she loves—or entering a new world brimming with dark hungers and unimaginable secrets.

Hocking's brought to life her characters with their depth and unique personality. In WAKE, the characters develop as the story goes on. The descriptions were vivid and mysterious enough to keep me going. Some readers might find the pacing a bit slow, but it is the first book in a series, so I believe that Hocking is giving the details we will need as the series progresses. The conversation meanwhile, is genuine and humorous.

WAKE, although a mermaid folktale, is more a tale of sisterly bond, that no matter what, a sister is a sister, it's a bond that can't be broken by differences, tastes, or myth. Creepy, beautiful with a different take on mermaid lore, WAKE ends in a cliffhanger that will make everyone crave for Lullaby---the next book in the series.

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One
Midnight Swim

The engine made a bizarre chugging sound, like a dying robot llama, followed by an innocuous click-click. Then silence. Gemma turned the key harder, hoping that would somehow breathe life into the old Chevy, but it wouldn't even chug anymore. The llama had died.
"You have got to be kidding me," Gemma said and cursed under her breath.She'd worked her butt off to pay for this car. Between the long hours she spent training at the pool and keeping up on her schoolwork, she had little time for a steady job. That had left her stuck babysitting the horrible Tennenmeyer boys. They put gum in her hair and poured bleach on her favorite sweater.But she'd toughed it out. Gemma had been determined to get a car when she turned sixteen, even if that meant dealing with the Tennenmeyers. Her older sister Harper had gotten their father's old car as a hand-me-down. Harper had offered to let Gemma drive it, but she declined. Mainly, Gemma needed her own car because neither Harper nor her father readily approved of her late-night swims at Anthemusa Bay. They didn't live far from the bay, but the distance wasn't what bothered her family. It was the late-night partÑand that was the thing that Gemma craved most.
Out there, under the stars, the water seemed like it went on forever. The bay met the sea, which in turn met the sky, and it all blended together like she was floating in an eternal loop. There was something magical about the bay at night, something that her family couldn't seem to understand.
Gemma tried the key one more time, but it only elicited the same empty clicking sound from her car. Sighing, she leaned forward and stared out at the moonlit sky through the cracked windshield. It was getting late, and even if she left on foot right now, she wouldn't get back from her swim until almost midnight.
That wouldn't be a huge problem, but her curfew was eleven. Starting off the summer being grounded on top of having a dead car was the last thing she wanted. Her swim would have to wait for another night.
She got out of the car. When she tried to slam the door shut in frustration, it only groaned, and a chunk of rust fell off the bottom.
"This is by far the worst three hundred dollars I ever spent," Gemma muttered.
"Car trouble?" Alex asked from behind her, startling her so much she nearly screamed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's okay." She waved it off and turned around to face him. "I didn't hear you come out."
Alex had lived next door to them for the past ten years, and there was nothing scary about him. As he got older, he'd tried to smooth out his unruly dark hair, but a lock near the front always stood up, a cowlick he could never tame. It made him look younger than eighteen, and when he smiled, he looked younger still.
There was something innocent about him, and that was probably why Harper had never thought of him as anything more than a friend. Even Gemma had dismissed him as uncrushworthy until recently. She'd seen the subtle changes in him, his youthfulness giving way to broad shoulders and strong arms.
It was that new thing, the new manliness he was beginning to grow into, that made her stomach flutter when Alex smiled at her. She still wasn't used to feeling that way around him, so she pushed it down and tried to ignore it.
"The stupid piece of junk won't run." Gemma gestured to the rusty compact and stepped over to where Alex stood on his lawn. "I've only had it for three months, and its dead already."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Alex said. "Do you need help?"
"You know something about cars?" Gemma raised an eyebrow. She had seen him spend plenty of time playing video games or with his nose stuck in a book, but she'd never once seen him under the hood of a car.
Alex smiled sheepishly and lowered his eyes. He had been blessed with tan skin, which made it easier for him to hide his embarrassment, but Gemma knew him well enough to understand that he blushed at almost anything.
"No," he admitted with a small laugh and motioned back to the driveway where his blue Mercury Cougar sat. "But I do have a car of my own."
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and swung them around his finger. For a moment he managed to look slick before the keys flew off his hand and hit him in the chin. Gemma stifled a laugh as he scrambled to pick them up.
"You okay?"
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine." He rubbed his chin and shrugged it off. "So, do you want a ride?"
"Are you sure? It's pretty late. I don't want to bother you."
"Nah, it's no bother." He stepped back toward his car, waiting for Gemma to follow. "Where are you headed?"
"Just to the bay."
"I should've known." He grinned. "Your nightly swim?"
"It's not nightly," Gemma said, though he wasn't too far off base.
"Come on." Alex walked over to the Cougar and opened his door. "Hop in."
"All right, if you insist."
Gemma didn't like imposing on people, but she didn't want to pass up a chance at swimming. A car ride alone with Alex wouldn't hurt, either. Usually she only got to spend time with him when he was hanging out with her sister.
"So what is it about these swims that you find so entrancing?" Alex asked after she'd gotten in the car.
"I don't think I'd ever describe them as entrancing." She buckled up her seat belt, then leaned back. "I don't know what it is exactly. There's just...nothing else like it."
"What do you mean?" Alex asked. He'd started the car, but stayed parked in the driveway, watching her as she tried to explain.
"During the day there are so many people at the bay, especially during the summer, but at night...it's just you and the water and the stars. And it's dark, so it all feels like one thing, and you're part of it all." She furrowed her brow, but her smile was wistful. "I guess it is kind of a entrancing," she admitted. She shook her head, clearing it of the thought. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just a freak who likes swimming at night."
That was when Gemma realized Alex was staring at her, and she glanced over at him. He had a strange expression on his face, almost like he was dumbfounded.
"What?" Gemma asked, beginning to feel embarrassed at the way he looked at her. She fidgeted with her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and shifted in her seat.
"Nothing. Sorry." Alex shook his head and put the car in drive. "You probably want to get out to the water."
"I'm not in a huge rush or anything," Gemma said, but that was sort of a lie. She wanted to get as much time in the water as she could before her curfew.
"Are you still training?" Alex asked. "Or did you stop for summer vacation?"
"Nope, I still train." She rolled down the car window, letting the salty air blow in. "I swim every day at the pool with the coach. He says my times are getting really good."
"At the pool you swim all day, and then you want to sneak out and swim all night?" Alex smirked. "How does that work?"
"It's different." She stuck her arm out the open window, holding it straight like the wing of a plane. "Swimming at the pool, it's all laps and time. It's work. Out in the bay, it's just floating and splashing around."
"But don't you ever get sick of being wet?" Alex asked.
"Nope." She shook her head. "That's like asking you, Don't you ever get sick of breathing air?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. Sometimes I think, Wouldn't it be grand if I didn't need to breathe?"
"Why?" Gemma laughed. "Why would that ever be grand?"
"I don't know." He looked self-conscious for a minute, his smile twisting nervously. "I guess I mostly thought it when I was in gym class and they'd make me run or something. I was always so out of breath."
Alex glanced over at her, as if checking to see if she thought he was a complete loser for that admission. But she only smiled at him in response.
"You should've spent more time swimming with me," Gemma said. "Then you wouldn't have been so out of shape."
"I know, but I'm a geek." He sighed. "At least I'm done with all that gym stuff now that I graduated."
"Soon you'll be so busy at college, you won't even remember the horrors of high school," Gemma said, her tone turning curiously despondent.
"Yeah, I guess." Alex furrowed his brow.
Gemma leaned closer to the window, hanging her arm down the side and resting her chin on her hand as she stared out at houses and trees passing by. In her and Alex's neighborhood, the houses were all cheap and run-down, but as soon as they passed Capri Lane, everything was clean and modern.
Since it was tourist season, all the buildings and trees were lit up brightly. Music from the bars and the sounds of people talking and laughing wafted in through the air.
"Are you excited to get away from all this?" Gemma asked with a wry smile and pointed to a drunken couple arguing on the boulevard.
"There is some stuff I'll be glad to get away from," he admitted, but when he looked over at her, his expression softened. "But there will definitely be some things that I miss.
"The beach was mostly deserted, other than a few teenagers having a bonfire, and Gemma directed Alex to drive a little farther. The soft sand gave way to more jagged rocks lining the shore, and the paved parking lots were replaced by a forest of bald cypress trees. He parked on a dirt road as close to the water as he could get.
This far away from the tourist attractions, there were no people or trails leading to the water. When Alex cut the lights on the Cougar, they were submerged in darkness. The only light came from the moon above them, and some light pollution cast off by the town.
"Is this really where you swim?" Alex asked.
"Yeah. It's the best place to do it." She shrugged and opened the door.
"But it's all rocky." Alex got out of the car and scanned the mossy stones that covered the ground. "It seems dangerous."
"That's the point." Gemma grinned. "Nobody else would swim here.
"As soon as she got out of the car, she slipped off her sundress, revealing the bathing suit she wore underneath. Her dark hair had been in a ponytail, but she pulled it down, shaking it loose. She kicked off her flip-flops and tossed them in the car, along with her dress.
Alex stood next to the car, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, and tried not to look at her. He knew she was wearing a bathing suit, one he'd seen her in a hundred times before. Gemma practically lived in swimwear. But alone with her like this, he felt acutely aware of how she looked in the bikini.
Of the two Fisher sisters, Gemma was definitely the prettier. She had a lithe swimmer's body, petite and slender, but curved in all the right places. Her skin was bronze from the sun, and her dark hair had golden highlights running through it from all the chlorine and sunlight. Her eyes were honey, not that he could really see the color in the dim light, but they sparkled when she smiled at him.
 "Aren't you going swimming?" Gemma asked.
"Uh, no." He shook his head and deliberately stared off at the bay to avoid looking at her. "I'm good. I'll wait in the car until you're done."
"No, you drove me all the way down here. You can't just wait in the car. You have to come swimming with me."
"Nah, I think I'm okay." He scratched his arm and lowered his eyes. "You go have fun."
"Alex, come on." Gemma pretended to pout.
"I bet you've never even gone for a swim in the moonlight. And you're leaving for college at the end of the summer. You have to do this at least once, or you haven't really lived.""I don't have swim trunks," Alex said, but his resistance was already waning.
"Just wear your boxers."
He thought about protesting further, but Gemma had a point. She was always doing stuff like this, but he'd spent most of his high school career in his bedroom.
 Besides, swimming would be better than waiting. And when he thought about it, it was much less creepy joining her swimming than watching her from the shore.
"Fine, but I better not cut my feet on any of the rocks," Alex said as he slipped off his shoes.
"I promise to keep you safe and sound." She crossed her hand over her heart to prove it.
"I'll hold you to that."
He pulled his shirt up over his head, and it was exactly as Gemma had imagined. His gangly frame had filled out with toned muscles that she didn't completely understand, since he was a self-professed geek.
When he started to undo his pants, Gemma turned away to be polite. Even though she would see him in his boxers in a few seconds, it felt strange watching him take off his jeans. As if it were dirty.
"So how do we get down to the water?" Alex asked.
"Very carefully."
She went first, stepping delicately onto the rocks, and he knew he wouldn't stand a chance of copying her grace. She moved like a ballerina, stepping on the balls of her feet from one smooth rock to the next until she reached the water.
"There are a few sharp stones when you step in the water," Gemma warned him.
"Thanks for the heads-up," he mumbled and moved with as much caution as he could. Following her path, which she'd made look so easy, proved to be rather treacherous, and he stumbled several times.
"Don't rush it! You'll be fine if you go slow."
"I'm trying."
To his own surprise, he managed to make it to the water without slicing open his foot. When he reached the water, Gemma smiled proudly at him as she waded out deeper into the bay.
"Aren't you scared?" Alex asked.
"Of what?" She'd gone far enough into the water to lean back and swim, kicking her legs out in front of her.
 "I don't know. Sea monsters or something. The water is so dark. You can't see anything." Alex was now in a little over waist-deep, and truthfully, he didn't want to go any farther.
"There's no sea monsters." Gemma laughed and splashed water at him. To encourage him to have fun, she decided to challenge him. "I'll race you to the rock over there."
"What rock?"
"That one." She pointed to a giant gray spike of a rock that stuck out of the water a few yards from where they swam.
"You'll beat me to it," he said.
"I'll give you a head start," Gemma offered.
"How much?"
"Um...five seconds."
"Five seconds?" Alex seemed to weigh this. "I guess maybe I couldÑ" Instead of finishing his thought, he dove into the water, swimming fast.
"I'm already giving you a head start!" Gemma called after him, laughing. "You don't need to cheat!"
Alex swam as furiously as he could, but it wasn't long before Gemma was flying past him. She was unstoppable in the water, and he'd honestly never seen anything faster than her. In the past, he'd gone with Harper to swim meets at the school, and there had rarely been one that Gemma didn't win.
"I won!" Gemma declared when she reached the rock.
"As if there was ever any doubt." Alex swam up next to her and hung on to the rock to support himself. His breath was still short, and he wiped the salty water from his eyes. "That was hardly a fair fight."
"Sorry." She smiled. Gemma wasn't anywhere near as winded as Alex was, but she leaned onto the rock next to him.
"For some reason, I don't think you really mean that," Alex said in mock offense.
His hand slipped off the rock, and when he reached out to steady himself again, he accidentally put his hand over Gemma's. His first instinct was to pull it back in some kind of hasty embarrassment, but the second before he did, he changed his mind.
 Alex let his hand linger over hers, both of them cool and wet. Her smile had changed, turning into something fonder, and for a moment neither of them said anything. They hung on to the rock like that for a moment longer, the only sound the water lapping around them.
Gemma would've been content to sit with Alex like that, but light exploded in the cove behind him, distracting her. The small cove was at the mouth of the bay, just before it met the ocean, about a quarter mile from where Gemma and Alex floated.
Alex followed her gaze. A moment later, laughter sounded over the water and he pulled his hand away from hers.
A fire flared inside the cove, the light flickering across the three dancing figures that fanned it. From this far away, it was difficult to get a clear view of what they were doing, but it was obvious who they were by the way they moved. Everyone in town knew of them, even if nobody really seemed to know them personally.
"It's those girls," Alex saidÑsoftly, as if the girls would overhear him from the cove.
The three girls were dancing with elegance and grace. Even their shadows, looming on the rock walls around them, seemed sensual in their movements.
"What are they doing out here?" Alex asked.
"I don't know." She shrugged, continuing to stare at them, unabashed. "They've been coming out here more and more. They seem to like hanging out in that cove."
"Huh," Alex said. She looked back at him and saw his brow furrowed in thought.
"I don't even know what they're doing in town."
"Me neither." He looked over his shoulder to watch them again. "Somebody told me they were Canadian movie stars."
"Maybe. But they don't have accents."
"You've heard them talk?" Alex asked, sounding impressed.
"Yeah, I've seen them at Pearl's Diner across from the library. They always order milk shakes."
"Didn't there used to be four of them?"
"Yeah, I think so." Gemma squinted, trying to be sure she was counting right. "Last time I saw them out here, there were four. But now there's only three."
"I wonder where the other one went."
Gemma and Alex were too far away to understand them clearly, but they were talking and laughing, their voices floating over the bay. One of the girls began singingÑher voice clear as crystal, and so sweet it almost hurt to hear. The melody pulled at Gemma's heart.
Alex's jaw dropped, and he gaped at them. He moved away from the rock, floating slowly toward them, but Gemma barely even noticed. Her focus was on the girls. Or, more accurately, on the one girl who wasn't singing.
Penn. Gemma was sure of it, just by the way Penn moved away from the two girls. Her long black hair hung down behind her, and the wind blew it back. She walked with startling grace and purpose, her eyes straight ahead.
From this distance in the dark, Penn shouldn't have noticed her, but Gemma could feel her eyes boring straight through her, sending chills down her spine.
"Alex," Gemma said in a voice that barely sounded like her own. "I think we should go."
"What?" Alex replied dazedly, and that was when Gemma realized how far he'd swum away from her.
"Alex, come on. I think we're bothering them. We should go."
"Go?" He turned back to her, sounding confused by the idea.
"Alex!" Gemma said, nearly shouting now, but at least that seemed to get through to him. "We need to get back. It's late."
"Oh, right." He shook his head, clearing it, and then swam back toward the shore.
When Gemma was convinced he was back to normal, she followed him.
Penn, Thea, Lexi, and Arista had been in town since the weather started warming up, and people assumed they were the first tourists of the season. But nobody really knew exactly who they were or what they were doing here.
All Gemma knew was that she hated it when they came out here. It disrupted her night swims. She didn't feel comfortable being in the water, not when they were out in the cove, dancing and singing and doing whatever it was they did.

Book Review +Chapter 1: Carnival of Souls by Melissa Marr

Carnival of Souls by Melissa Marr

• Paperback
• Publisher: HarperCollins Children's Books (September 4, 2012)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0007476302
• ISBN-13: 978-0007476305

In a city of daimons, rigid class lines separate the powerful from the power-hungry. And at the heart of The City is the Carnival of Souls, where both murder and pleasure are offered up for sale. Once in a generation, the carnival hosts a deadly competition that allows every daimon a chance to join the ruling elite. Without the competition, Aya and Kaleb would both face bleak futures—if for different reasons. For each of them, fighting to the death is the only way to try to live. 

All Mallory knows of The City is that her father—and every other witch there—fled it for a life in exile in the human world. Instead of a typical teenage life full of friends and maybe even a little romance, Mallory scans quiet streets for threats, hides herself away, and trains to be lethal. She knows it's only a matter of time until a daimon finds her and her father, so she readies herself for the inevitable. While Mallory possesses little knowledge of The City, every inhabitant of The City knows of her. There are plans for Mallory, and soon she, too, will be drawn into the decadence and danger that is the Carnival of Souls. 

From Melissa Marr, bestselling author of the Wicked Lovely series and Graveminder, comes a brand-new tale of lush secrets, dark love, and the struggle to forge one's own destiny. 

I heard so much of Melissa Marr, but this is actually the first book I ever read from her. Yeah, I know, I have to read her bestselling WICKED LOVELY series, but for now, I have to settle in this one, and maybe put that series in my TBR list.>:D

From the blurb alone, the story seems interesting, dark and full of brutality. There are three stories for this story, that of Aya, Kaleb and Mallory. And surprisingly enough, I didn’t get lost or annoyed. From Kaleb and Aya’s story, the Carnival of Souls is where every daimon has a chance to fight to the death and whoever emerge as the victor will have his place in the ruling elite or the chance to raise his caste. Kaleb’s in the lowest caste and is hired to kill but his skills was tested when he starts to care for Mallory. Aya meanwhile is in the ruling class already but she joined the competition to avoid being married off and forced to breed.

On the other hand is Mallory’s story, she has been raised to kill daimons, survive and protect her foster/guardian/trainer/witch father while trying to be normal. But instead of being an ordinary teenage girl, go out with friends, flirt with boys, Mallory finds herself protecting herself from everyone, almost too paranoid in suspecting everyone’s interior motive just to protect her father who stole something from the daimons. When she met Aya and Kaleb, her world turn into chaos, she felt something for Kaleb but is too afraid to give it a try thinking that she’ll only put Kaleb in danger, little does she know that he’s a daimon sent to find her. Besides, their personal problems, soon they’ll find that they are in the center of a raging war between witches and daimon and the only option is to kill or to die.

I loved Marr’s writing style. She created another world of seduction and beautifully sinister story through the CARNIVAL OF SOULS. The different colored masks, their meanings, the pleasure and violence, the rich storyline all made me hooked to read it until the end. The alternate POV’s of The City and the human world wasn’t distracting, although I’m most excited when the events are in The City. The story/world building is naturally-done without going too complicated. So, it’s basically easy to understand, and I found myself easily attached to the CARNIVAL OF SOULS.

Perhaps the most tragic and the best substory I liked was that of Aya and Belias, their frustrated?/conflicted?/tortured? romance,stubborness and conflicting personalities was a cute one..:D. Aya’s character which was entirely unlikable at first became one of the most developed in the story, for behind her tough exterior lies a tender and lovable daimon. And the character I loved most is Kaleb, he’s aware that he’s done lots of bad things, but all of that has reasons and he’ll do anything to change just for Mallory. He also cares deep for the people he loves.

I think the only downside is the end part of the story. Maybe I was just too excited because finally the different subplots are somewhat connecting, and then Marr dropped it and we have the last page. Yes, she gave us the cliffhanger just like that.:D This book definitely set the standard for the next book and I’m already anxious for it.

Overall, CARNIVAL OF SOULS is a beautiful dark, sensual story, full of secrets, violence and where everything comes with a price. It’s a book from the bestselling author Melissa Marr that you shouldn’t miss.
Highly Recommended!
View all my reviews
CHAPTER 1
Almost seventeen years later

Mallory had an hour to herself after school before she had to be at practice, so she’d ducked into the only independent coffee shop in Smithfield for some overpriced, oversweetened coffee. Admittedly, she’d spent more of the hour thinking about Kaleb than doing her homework, but AP Physics wasn’t nearly as interesting as the first boy she’d felt at ease around.
She’d even told him the names of a couple of the towns where she’d lived over the years—and talked about her family. And the moment she’d done that, she’d realized she needed to stay away from him. Anyone who made her let her guard down that much was dangerous.
As she returned her empty mug to the counter, she looked out the large front window and saw Kaleb standing across the street from Java Junkies as if she’d conjured him with her thoughts. Admittedly, Smithfield was a tiny town, so she bumped into Kaleb every time he was home from school, which seemed to be a lot lately. Still, Mallory felt the same warm flush of excitement she did every time she saw him and then quashed it.
Bad idea. Very, very bad.
She lowered her gaze, suddenly finding the words painted on the door fascinating, and stepped onto the sidewalk with her eyes still downcast. She should be scanning the area for danger, but all she wanted to do was look at Kaleb. She stole a glance at him and debated going over to at least say hello.
Nothing could come of it. She knew it—but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that. It was foolishness, but she wanted something to come of it. She’d never felt so instantly at ease or so embarrassingly attracted to anyone. Telling him to go away wasn’t something she could bring herself to do—despite how inevitable it was. Instead, she walked away, forcing herself not to look at him. She let her gaze wander over the flowers in planters along the street, the man in the rumpled suit playing his cello for change, the debris that accumulated in gutters . . .anything but the boy who had occupied all of her free thoughts the past month.
She hadn’t gone more than a few steps when Kaleb caught up with her. “Are you ignoring me?”
“No,” she lied.
His voice always made her want to shiver. Kaleb’s voice was like dark chocolate, so rich that she felt strangely sinful listening to him talk about the most mundane things. She resisted the temptation to close her eyes.
He stepped closer to her. “So you didn’t just see me and walk away?”
“Maybe,” Mallory half admitted.
If she needed to, she could put him on the ground, but Kaleb wasn’t an enemy. He was just a guy. She stole another glance at him. Just a guy? He was six feet of lean muscle, perpetually unruly hair, and eyes that were too dark to be called brown. To add to his allure, he had a ferocity to him that slipped out when he looked around the street. He’d only ever been sweet to her, but he had an attitude that hinted at an ability to wade into trouble; it gave her a foolish hope that he could handle the world she knew, even as logic warned her that she was clinging to illusions.
Until she’d met Kaleb, she’d actually worried that something was wrong with her. Her classmates had started talking about boys—or girls—a few years ago, but she was almost seventeen and, until the past month, she’d never had the sort of reactions they all talked about. The forget-yourname nervousness, the racing heart, the why-did-I-say-that—it was as foreign to her as a life without witches . . . until Kaleb.
He made her wish for things that were impossible, for a life that she could never have.
The sound of the cars on the street drew her attention, and her gaze slipped away to check the shadows for threats.
“Mallory?”
“Yes?” Her hand went to the pendant she wore under her blouse. The reasons she shouldn’t see him, the need to see him, the way she’d had to lie to him—thinking about all of that made her feel horrible inside.
“I’m glad I found you,” he said.
He moved in so he stood just a shade closer than could be considered polite, and she wondered what he’d do if she thanked him for evoking the blushworthy thoughts she was having.
She realized that he was watching her expectantly, but she wasn’t able to admit that she was happy to see him too. Instead, she said, “I didn’t expect you.”
“I just got into town,” he said.
She started, “I need to go—”
“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asked at the same time.
They both stopped. She shifted the bag on her shoulder, surreptitiously adjusting the hilt of the knife she wore hidden under her arm. Her jacket concealed it, but sometimes the top of the hilt poked the underside of her bra. That was one of the many things she didn’t want to discuss. So, why are you wearing a knife? She smiled at Kaleb, continuing the imaginary discussion in her mind. In case I need to protect us from monsters . . . not that I’ve had to fight them yet, but, you know, just in case.
“Mallory?” Kaleb stared at her in that too-intense-for- comfort way he had done since they’d first met a little over a month ago. Everything about him seemed intense though.
When he listened to her talk, he acted like what she was saying was really important, even when it was just meaningless chatter about a show she’d watched on television or an article she’d read online. The thrill of being the center of his attention made her want to linger longer, even when she knew that she couldn’t truly date him. Still, she suspected that even a small friendship with Kaleb would be better than dating any other boy.
He gestured away from the tiny downtown where the coffee shop was. “Do you want to walk or something? Even if you only have a few minutes, we could—”
“I can’t,” she interrupted and then silently added, I need to go practice killing things.
The temptation to skip practice crossed her mind, but that would lead to questions from her father, and those would lead to either admitting she’d met someone who interested her enough to skip practice or it would mean lying to her father.
Neither of those seemed like very good ideas. But as Kaleb stared at her, frowning in frustration or maybe in confusion, she wished rather desperately that she could lie to her father— or tell Kaleb everything.
Instead, she admitted, “I have practice, and I’m already going to be late. Maybe next time we could do something.
If you want to, I mean. I’m not sure if I can then either, but I want to.”
“I’ll ask again,” he promised.
And then she turned and walked away from Kaleb as quickly as she could without seeming like she was running.
She hadn’t exactly mentioned that she couldn’t date him, but that was just because there was no way to say it without sounding weird. It wasn’t because she harbored a tiny hope of something more. Really. She smiled to herself. Kaleb wants to see me again.
A short while later, Mallory had temporarily forced away thoughts of the beautiful human boy she shouldn’t date and concentrated on the task at hand: proving to her father that she was making progress with the  emiautomatic.
“You need to get over it, Mals.” Adam didn’t scowl at her, but the censure was there all the same. “The revolver only has six rounds. Sometimes six won’t be enough.”
She accepted the gun, but it felt wrong in her hands. It always felt wrong. The weight of it didn’t comfort her the way the heavier revolver did.
“They aren’t like humans,” Adam reminded her— unnecessarily. He’d spent most of her life teaching her how to defend herself against daimons. She knew that they were stronger and faster than any human could hope to be. Witches stood more than a fair chance against them, but Mallory wasn’t a witch.
She sighted down on her target, inhaled, held her breath, and squeezed. “Just like taking a picture.”
She’d learned the inverse though: she’d applied firearms lessons to photography, not the other way around. Daimons weren’t scared away by a 35mm camera. A steady aim with a 9mm pistol, on the other hand, could—hopefully—save her life someday. No matter how ready she felt, fear crept over her every time she thought about facing daimons.
“Again,” Adam prompted. “You need to focus. By the time you realize what they are, you’ll need to act fast. They look like us . . . and like you.”
The pause was slight, but she heard it. Us and you. Her mother wasn’t a witch, and Adam wasn’t her bio-dad, so she wasn’t an us. She also wasn’t really able to be a them. She might be human, but Adam was a witch. That meant she was caught living among the witches, preparing to fight daimons with only a human’s defenses. Sometimes, guiltily, she admitted to herself that this wasn’t the life she wanted. A stray thought of Kaleb flitted through her mind, but she knew without asking her father that he’d never agree to her changing her training or workout schedules so she had time to date.
Steadily, she sighted, fired, and moved to the next target.
Then once she reached the end of the row, she worked her way back. Mallory hated the ease with which the semiautomatic discharged bullets. It felt like everything went too quickly, but if the paper targets in front of her were daimons, she knew she’d appreciate that extra speed.
Adam began calling numbers. “Target three, eight, two, one, eight, six.”
As he called them, she aimed and fired. It was an exercise that required reaction and focus. Admittedly, it was easier with the 9mm in her hand, but she still felt tense.
She switched guns, sliding the 9mm into an under-thearm holster and transitioning to the .357 that she wore in a thigh holster. The familiar weight of it was all she needed to summon that meditative space where the world was reduced to hand-gun-target. She had learned hand-to-hand skills, but her father insisted that most daimons had superior training and more physical strength than a human could counter. She had to be proficient with weapons too. Witches had magic; daimons had physicality; and humans had guns.
She emptied the last chamber in the revolver and glanced at her father. The furrow in his brow said what he didn’t: he wasn’t happy about her switching guns.
“I’m more comfortable with this.” She lowered the barrel so it aimed at the ground.
Adam said nothing as she opened the cylinder and discharged the empty casings. He remained quiet as she pulled six bullets from her jeans pocket and reloaded. When Mallory closed the cylinder, he said, “I should never have bought you that gun. If I’d started you with the nine mil, you wouldn’t use this as a crutch. The revolver was to be a starter, like training wheels.”
She gestured at the targets. “I’m capable with both guns. I just like this one better.”
When he didn’t reply, she walked over to the targets. Using the barrel as a pointer, she tapped the first target. “Not one outside the ‘preferred zone.’ Tight.” She went down the line, tapping each paper in the row. “I can use the nine; I just don’t like it as well.”
Adam sighed. “If you knew what they were like, Mals . . .”
He shook his head. “I hope you never have to face them alone, but if you do, you’ll be grateful for a clip, and hopefully you’ll be packing an extended clip.”
She softened at his worried look. “I know, and I will be prepared. Promise.” For a brief moment she considered asking him questions she had never verbalized, but like every other time she’d considered it, the questions skittered away before she could speak them. She wanted to know why she’d never met daimons, why she couldn’t go to his office, why they couldn’t find a way to live a different life, but her tongue wouldn’t form the words. A band seemed to tighten around her chest.
Good daughters don’t question. They obey.
Her father held her gaze, and when she didn’t speak, he nodded once. “I need you to be prepared.”
Mallory straightened her shoulders and met her father’s gaze. “I won’t let you down.”
He ejected the clip from the 9mm and replaced it with an extended clip. “Notice that it took a moment to reload this.
Sometimes a single moment makes a difference. Daimons aren’t like witches or humans, Mallory. You can’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” she promised. The pressure around her chest faded.
He held the 9mm pistol out to her.
Lips pursed, she accepted it. Daimons might be more capable at hand-to-hand, but she wasn’t planning on allowing any of them close enough for that to matter.
“Empty it,” he ordered.
Mallory aimed and emptied half the clip. After fifteen bullets tore through the existing holes in the target, daylight shone through the center of the paper as if it were an open window. She did the same thing to a second target, and then lowered the gun. Maybe if she was good enough, her father would let her take a little time to go out, to at least build a friendship with Kaleb instead of settling for a few moments when they crossed paths. She glanced at Adam.
He nodded. “Again.”
Several hours and several clips later, Adam and Mallory returned to the three-bedroom house they rented in Smithfield, yet another of the interchangeable towns in the middle of the country. Like almost every other house the past few years, this one was nondescript. It was nice, clean, and in good order, but it was anonymous in a way she sometimes hated. The walls were white, and the carpets were beige. There were no houseplants or bric-a-brac that said “this is a home.” Takeout menus were held to the front of the fridge by strips of tape, clips, and magnets. It added to the already generic feel of the house.
It had been five years since they’d had a real home.
Since Mom left.
That was the real difference: Selah had turned whatever rental they’d had into an actual home. She’d bought paint and rollers, and she’d spent days turning a plain house into a real home. Boring white walls became a different color in each house. “Make it an adventure,” she’d said. One house had ceilings painted like a sky, blue with big, fluffy clouds. Another had a tree painted on Mallory’s bedroom wall. Selah had added hooks for her robe and her coat at the ends of two big branches.
Beige carpet was covered with rugs, the splashes of color Selah pulled from battered boxes to make boring space into flowerstrewn fields or calm ponds. Claiming a house was a game, one they’d played over and over in new towns. Now that it was just Mallory and Adam, the walls of every house were white, and the only color on the carpet was from the stains left by the last residents.
Mallory walked into the dining room and sat down.
Mutely, she put both guns on the weathered wooden table, and then she proceeded to wipe down first her .357 and then the 9mm. She’d been handling guns since she was seven, and the process—much like the routine of aiming and discharging her weapons—was reassuring. It was a cue that things were normal, that her life was unchanged even as the houses she slept in year after year changed.
“We have to move again,” Adam said from the doorway to the dining room.
She paused. “When?”
“Now.” His mouth was a grim line.
“Now,” she repeated. “Like tonight, now?”
“No.” He gave her a smile that did little to soften the tension in his expression before saying gently, “I called the company movers. They’ll be here on the fifteenth.”
Childish hurt warred with years of practicality. Adam wouldn’t decide that they needed to go again, especially on such short notice, if he didn’t think it was essential, but she felt betrayed. They’d spent hours together, and he hadn’t mentioned it until now.
“That’s my birthday,” she said with as little inflection as she could manage. She didn’t—couldn’t—mention Kaleb, but the thought of never seeing him again tore at her. Her gaze was carefully fixed on the gun she wiped clean.
“I know.” Adam walked into the room and hugged her.
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes like the child she couldn’t be. It was silly to make a big deal over a date on the calendar, but she still clung to the foolish dream that her mother would show up on her birthday. There was no reason to believe she would, but Mallory had held on to the hope that her mother would walk back through the door and into their lives some birthday with as little notice as her departure on Mallory’s twelfth birthday.
Adam swore that Selah had ways to locate them. His employer always knew where they were, and Selah was the only person in the world who had been granted full clearance to be told how to find Adam and Mallory at any time. Mallory hated to doubt her father’s judgment, but her mother had never been accepted by his colleagues. It wouldn’t surprise anyone but Adam if they “forgot” or misled Selah.
“I’m going to be working at the Stoneleigh-Ross main office.” Adam’s expression was perfectly unreadable—which meant he was either hiding something or afraid.
Or both.
Mallory squared her shoulders and stared at him as he walked away. She never succeeded at questioning her father, but the thought of Kaleb made her feel strong. She knew she couldn’t really date him, and she shouldn’t get too close to a regular human. For his safety, she needed to keep a distance, but the possibility of continuing even the small conversations they now shared was a great temptation.
“I want to know why we have to go,” she told her father.
Her usually absent temper flared, and her voice rose. “I’m not a child anymore. I deserve to know.”
Her father sat down on the sofa and waited as she reloaded the clips. After a couple of minutes, he said, “I love you more than I thought it possible to love anyone or anything. If I could put you away somewhere safe and take care of the threats on my own, I would.”
“I don’t want to be ‘put away.’” Mallory laid the clip on the table. The soft clatter was in direct contrast to the turmoil she was trying to repress. She crossed the small distance to the living room, but didn’t sit. “I want to know what’s going on. I want to know why we have to move so suddenly. Again. I want to know why they’re after you in the first place.”
Her father gave her a curious look, and she wanted to apologize for raising her voice to him. She wasn’t sorry though.
He acted like she was too fragile to know anything, but he taught her how to kill. Maybe she needed to show him that she wasn’t going to back down every time he skewered her with his gaze.
After a moment, Adam said, “A long time ago I took something very valuable.” He leaned forward so that his hands were on either side of his knees, as if he had to hold on to the sofa cushion. “Maybe it was foolish. I knew it was dangerous, but I was angry. They killed my parents and my brother . . .” He paused, and she thought he’d stop as he always had on the rare occasions when he had mentioned The City, but this time, he continued. “If not for my sister, I’d be dead too. Evelyn saved me. I was so young, too young to fight, but after the wars, I waited. It took a couple of centuries, but then I saw my chance: I took what their ruler most valued, but I couldn’t . . . I can’t destroy it. Evelyn wants to use it as a weapon, but . . .” Adam bowed his head as his words dwindled.
This time, he didn’t resume. He sat there with his head down.
Mallory shuddered at the thought of Evelyn Stoneleigh.
She was supposed to be family, but family or not, the woman who ran the Witches’ Council was the single most frightening person Mallory had ever met. She looked innocuous, like most witches, but she had stared at Mallory with flat, dark eyes reminiscent of sharks’ eyes: all function, no emotion.
Mallory thought about the few possessions her father carried rather than allow the movers to pack and ship, and she could think of nothing valuable enough to kill for. “Could you give it back so we can stop running?”
Adam lifted his head. “I’d sooner die—and he’d kill me either way. They don’t think like witches, Mals, and he’s their ruler. It would be a sign of weakness to let me live.”
“There has to be another option,” she insisted. “Our choices are run or die? That’s it? Maybe you can have someone else return it to them. Evelyn is strong and—”
“No!” he snapped. After a shuddering breath, he said evenly, “I’ll come up with a plan. We’ll be okay. You’ll be careful, and we’ll move as often as we have to. If I die, you go to Evelyn.”
He held his hand out to her, and she went to his side.
Mallory blinked away tears as her father held her. This was her future for as long as she could imagine, running and hoping the monsters didn’t find them.
I hate daimons.