 CHAPTER ONE “One last little drop and…” I carefully used the dropper to add the final ingredient, holding my breath so I didn’t add too much. A single drop of red liquid went in the bottle and when it hit the rest of the liquid, it turned a vibrant green. “Oh yeah, I’m good,” I said, grinning in satisfaction. Aidan stared at me, eyes wide. “How do you do that? No one has been able to get that potion right.” Stoppering the bottle, I gave it a shake. “Natural talent.” Aidan snorted in response. He was just jealous. I was the best potion maker in the country, maybe even in the world and he knew it. Which begged the question, why was I working out of the back of an old restaurant, hiding my talent, when I could be making the big bucks. Well, I knew why. Witches had to be careful in this city. The supernatural authorities liked to keep a close eye on us, making sure we didn’t overstep the mark. One witch got caught hexing someone a few months back and they threw her in prison for two years. I mean sure it was a well known goblin leader she was hexing, but that was uncalled for. The general rule was as long as you aren’t doing anything to those in charge, they don’t really give a shit. “How much do you think you’ll get for it?” I asked, handing the bottle to Aidan. He held it up to the light for a better look. “Uh, maybe three hundred. If we’re lucky.” “Well, get lucky, I’d like to eat this week.” With a nod, Aidan placed the bottle in a box and left the kitchen. It was an odd setup, but it could be a lucrative one if you played your cards right. Aidan was a witch too, but he didn’t have much in the way of natural talents. He was good at finding buyers though, which was why I whipped up the potions and he sold them for us. Fifty-fifty cut for each of us. Grabbing a cloth, I started mopping up any spilt ingredients from earlier. Despite the fact this entire building was condemned, I always took the time to make sure my workspace was clean. Potions were delicate things. One wrong move, or any kind of contamination could mess it up. And I wouldn’t be accused of shoddy work. “Not that it matters with poison,” I muttered. Okay, my natural talent involved some very specific types of potions. The contents were untraceable and depending on what was used, they could make it look like someone died of natural causes. I wasn’t a monster, I didn’t whip them up for anyone. Right now, there was a lot of rumblings with the vampires, they were constantly trying to expand their territory and killed anyone who got in their way. No one would miss a few of them. Taking on a vamp one on one was pretty much a death sentence unless you had super strength, and the resistance group who bought the poison didn’t. They were just trying to protect their families. A drop of my potion would desiccate a vamp, leave him a shrivelled mess, easy to stake. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Grabbing my case, I started packing my things inside. As I picked up my mini cauldron, my hand shook slightly. Pausing, I took a deep breath, running my hand through my short, black and red streaked hair. It was moments like this I found it difficult to get Sarah’s face out of my head. My little sister. Murdered by vampires, along with our parents when I was only a kid. Not that I knew the vamps were responsible at the time. I found out much later. Years ago, Sarah spotted the cauldron in a junk store and begged Mom to buy it for me. She knew I would like it. It was cast iron and excellent for potion brewing. Of course at the time, we were playing, I had no real idea about potion making. That came later too. If I had some of these potions at my disposal back then, maybe I could have done something to save them. My phone rang, startling me. Pulling it from my pocket, I answered it. “Hello?” “Hi, is this...Aurora?” a woman asked. “Rory, but yeah. What can I do for you?” “Um, I got your number from a friend. She said you could help me with something.” Goddess, I hated the timid ones. They were always reluctant to get to the point. “What do you need?” I asked, tapping my fingers impatiently. “I don’t really want to discuss it over the phone. Someone could be listening. Could we meet somewhere. Please? I’ll pay anything.” That made me pay attention. Maybe I could squeeze a few extra bucks out of her. While most of my business was with Aidan, I did have personal clients that he didn’t need to know about. “Okay. You got a pen?” “Yes.” I reeled off my address to her. “Meet me in an hour.” “I will. Thank you.” She hung up. I admit I was a little intrigued by what she wanted, but it was probably just an abusive husband she wanted rid of. I got that a lot. Honestly, I could probably make that a full time job, but I didn’t kill humans. No matter how much they deserved it. But I could give her something to punish him or even make him leave. Packing up the rest of my stuff, I left the restaurant and headed east. I had given her my home address. Well, home wasn’t entirely accurate. It was an abandoned house I was staying in. The good thing was if there ever was an issue, if someone tried to send the authorities after me, I could just grab my stuff and bail. Nothing is ever permanent. Something my mom used to say. No shit. I reached the house about twenty minutes later. Checking there was no on else in the street, I cut down and alley, climbed a fence and came into the house through a window at the back. I had to be careful. It would only take the wrong nosey neighbor to report me and I’d be chased out. The house was a two storey, five bedroom Victorian that was abandoned because of structural issues. So far, it seemed to be holding up well. The chain-link fence around the front stopped anyone from getting too close and I got to stay here until they decided to tear it down. Shame. It looked like it could have been a great place to live once upon a time. The kitchen was a lost cause, hence why I worked out of the restaurant, but there were some rooms at the front of the house that were fine. Dumping my bag in the room I slept in, I headed back downstairs and lit some candles. No electricity was a bitch too. The front room still had some furniture in it, so I used it the most. I gave it a quick tidy, then moved to the window to watch for her. At almost exactly the hour, a silver sedan pulled up. I moved to the back door, opened it and made my way around. She couldn’t exactly walk in the front door. The woman was in her forties, wearing a crumpled navy suit and a string of pearls. She looked like some PTA mom. Looking up at the house, her brow creased in confusion and I saw her check a piece of paper in her hand. I whistled and her head whipped up. Motioning for her to follow me, I didn’t wait to see if she did. I headed back inside. A few minutes later, she came in through the back door, moving slowly. “Is this your house?” she asked. “Technically? It will do for now. Come through.” I lead her to the living room which looked almost normal compared to the rest of the house. A loud creak came from above us and the woman’s head whipped up. She was jumpy. “Are we alone?” she asked, playing with the pearls. “Yes. It’s just the house settling.” Or collapsing. Fifty-fifty on that. “What do you want?” She tore her gaze from the ceiling and looked at me. Then she looked around the room, her eyes landing on a few potion bottles on the table by the window. She moved slowly toward them, her hand brushing the table, but she didn’t pick any up. “I heard you specialize in...potions that can take care of problems.” More dancing around the subject. What was she asking for? “Depends. What do you want?” She turned to face me, her gaze steady. Something was off about her. The voice on the phone was nervous, this woman was not that. Not really. More alert. She stood straight, arms by her side, body tense. I learned to read body language a long time ago, you had to when you grew up in care. Something was up with her. “I need to deal with someone who is bothering me. A co-worker.” Co-worker? That didn’t sound right either. How could a co-worker be so bad that she had to come to me. “Have you tried changing jobs?” I suggested, then kicked myself. If she was willing to pay, why was I trying to talk her our of it. Still, that doubt persisted. “Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I need something that will...put him out of work. So to speak.” I was starting to wonder if she was some undercover fed at this point. Like she wanted me to admit to something, but I didn’t know what. “Look, the best I can do is give you something with a really strong laxative effect. Would that do it?” She pulled a face. “Not quite what I had in mind.” “Well, I guess you’ve been misinformed then.” The woman stared at me for a moment, then she sighed. “I guess so.” She adjusted her jacket and headed for the door. I followed her and let her back out. “Good luck with…” But she was already out the gate. “Whatever.” Weirded out, I closed the door and locked it. Something was definitely up with her. I needed to be careful. Maybe its time to move again.  Kat Gracey writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance novels featuring her two favorite supernatural beings - witches and werewolves.
She currently resides in the UK, where she enjoys yoga and catching up on her favorite shows. You can learn more about her books via her website: https://www.witchesandwerewolves.co.uk
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 “Mum, Declan won’t stop teasing me,” Ciara whined, pointing a pudgy finger at me. Mum looked up from the washing and gave me a familiar glare. “Declan, stop torturing your sister. When are you two going to learn to play nice?” “Never,” I muttered under my breath. Why would I want to spend time with my bratty ten-year-old sister? She was always breaking my stuff, then blaming me. Then she would tattle to Mum when I yelled at her. When Mum turned to place the clothes in the washing basket, I drew my finger across my throat at Ciara. “Mum!” Ciara whined again. “Enough. I can’t listen to the two of you anymore. Go outside and play.” We left the house and headed to the trees at the bottom of the garden. Our house was out of the way, miles from anything. Mum let us play in the woods, as long as we didn’t wander too far. Not that I listened. The further away I got from Ciara, the better. Taking off, I headed for the small river which ran along the back of the property, I started building a dam out of rocks and old boards and I wanted to finish it. Actually, I’d much rather be playing video games but since I couldn’t, this was at least a way to entertain myself. Just as I reached the river, a voice rang out. “Declan! Where are you going?” I swore under my breath. Couldn’t she leave me alone for five minutes? “Go play with your dolls, Ciara,” I snapped. “I want to go with you,” she insisted. Rolling my eyes, I ignored her and started looking for new items to add to the dam. If I didn’t talk to her, she would soon get bored and leave. I dug a rock out of the dirt, a big one. Hefting it, I moved to my dam. Only three feet across, it wouldn’t take long to finish it. I glanced at the riverbank as cold water seeped into my trainers. Ciara had disappeared. Weird, thought she’d make more of a fuss. After placing my rock where I wanted it, I climbed back out, looking up and down the bank. Where did she go? An uneasy feeling washed over me. If she hurt herself, I would be the one to get in trouble. Mum would blame me for wandering too far, even though no one asked her to follow me. “Ciara!” I yelled. “Where are you?” No reply. She probably went back to the house, but if she didn’t… “For feck’s sake,” I muttered, trudging along the bank. If she was hiding, I would push her into the bloody river. Laughter up ahead alerted me to where she was. I left the trees to find a field beyond it. About twenty feet away stood a small mound covered in wildflowers and Ciara stood on top of it. “Look what I found,” she said, throwing her arms out. “Mum says they’re called fairy mounds. She showed me a picture.” “Fairies? Seriously? Don’t be so stupid!” I sneered. Imagine believing in fairies at her age. Ciara pouted and crossed her arms, her blonde pigtails blowing in the breeze. “They are real.” Rolling my eyes, I climbed onto the mound, my trainers sinking into the soft earth. “Go back to the house before you fall and break your neck.” I tried to grab her am, to drag her down, but she jumped back out of my reach. “No! I want to see a fairy and I’m not leaving until I do.” Rubbing my nose with the back of my hand, I could feel myself getting angry with her. “They’re not real.” “Yes, they are.” “Okay, fine.” I raised my voice. “If fairies exist, show yourselves. Come on! Don’t be shy.” “Stop it, Declan.” “Come on, fairies. Come and get me!” I screamed. Of course, nothing happened. Laughing wickedly, I climbed down. “Do what you want.” I headed back to the river to finish my dam. *** I looked up to find that the sun was starting to set. Confused, I looked around. I was just at the river, but now I found myself standing back in the field with the fairy mound. “What the hell?” I muttered. I couldn’t have been out here that long. It was lunch time when we left the house. The sun didn’t go down until after nine. Shaking my head, I started walking back towards home. I must have completely zoned out, Mum would kill me for staying out so long. Where’s Ciara? She probably got home hours ago. Mum would lose it and I’d be grounded for weeks. Breaking into a jog, I realised it wouldn’t make much of a difference given how late I already was. I can’t spend the summer locked in the house. Maybe I could tell her that I got lost, but she probably wouldn’t believe me. The house came into view and I hurried to the back door, but it was locked. Running around to the front door, I skidded to a halt. Dad was getting out of the car with Ciara…did she get her hair cut? It used to hang down her back, but now it fell to her chin. I’m missing all day and she gets taken out for a haircut? Ciara spotted me and let out a small scream. My eyes went to Dad, who had a stunned expression on his face like I was the last person he expected to see. “What?” I asked, annoyed at being stared at. “G-get your Mum,” Dad said to Ciara. She headed for the door, staring at me the whole way. She opened the door and screamed, “Mum!” Dad stepped around the car, walking slowly towards me. “Declan?” he whispered. “What? Why is everyone acting weird? I know I was gone a long time, I just lost track of time.” Mum came to the door, wearing a dressing gown and slippers. She looked washed out. Was she sick? She was fine earlier. “Ciara? What…?” She saw me and her eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open. “D-Declan?” I shifted uncomfortably. Something was seriously off. She lunged at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. “Oh thank God. My baby, you’re home.” “What’s the big deal? I’ve only been gone a few hours,” I said, trying to break free from her grip. “A few hours?” Dad sputtered, still rooted to the spot. I could see tears in his eyes. Dad never cried. Mum looked at me, her hands on my cheeks. “Declan, baby, you’ve been gone for a year.”  USA Today Bestselling Author S. K. Gregory writes urban fantasy, paranormal romance and horror stories. Rarely seen without a pen in her hand, she loves writing about supernatural worlds and the creatures that live within them.
An avid reader and chocoholic, she has been creating fantasy worlds since she was a child. When she isn’t writing, S. K. enjoys binge-watching her favorite shows and hanging out with family and friends. To learn more and to keep up to date with her latest book releases, you can follow her Facebook page here: www.facebook.com/authorskgregory or check out her website: www.skgregory.com  RamoraDebbie Manber Kupfer Ramora stood on the peak of Manus Wu. It had taken her six hours to climb the slope, but finally she’d arrived. She took a deep breath and gazed down into the valley below. By now her mother would be preparing the evening meal. She wondered if she’d even noticed Ramora was gone. From this high up, it felt like she could reach out and touch the clouds. She sat down and waited. The fairy had said she would come. She felt in her pockets for the vial of potion and the silver coin. Freedom – she would buy her freedom from the fairy. It was the only way. She gazed down at her mud-splattered dress, so impractical for climbing the mountain. No matter, the fairy had promised her riches – dresses of spun silk, pearls, and emeralds. She would have no need for this old rag anymore. She had first met the fairy on the day she was summoned. Her mother and father had called her into the drawing room on the morning of her twelfth birthday. It was time, they said, she was to be betrothed. The gentleman sitting in the drawing room was three times her age and gazed at her like a piece of meat. He was a merchant from the market, by the name of Rodwin. He had a cruel look in his eyes as he appraised his bride-to-be. “She will do,” he said. Ramora felt warm tears rolling down her cheeks, but she said nothing; there was nothing she could say. This was the custom in her village, and she was of age. The wedding was set three moons hence. “It’s not fair,” said Ramora to herself, as she sat several hours later on the Thinking Rock at the edge of the village. She watched an eagle soar through the sky. “Oh, how I wish I could fly away from all this.” “Why so glum?” said a voice. “A maiden as young and beautiful as you should be happy, and yet you seem so sad.” Ramora looked up. The fairy was emerald green with tiny gossamer wings and beady yellow eyes. She hovered by Ramora’s side and smiled at the girl, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I am to be married,” said Ramora. “Then you should be joyful,” said the fairy. “Is that not what every young woman wants?” “It is what my parents want.” “And a girl should always listen to her parents, oh yes!” said the fairy. “For if she does not, no good can come of her. But still, if a girl should want more, well maybe there is something a certain Teg, could do for her . . .” “Teg?” asked Ramora confused. She thought she’d heard the word once, but could not place it. “Ah, I see you don’t know me . . . I, on the other hand, have been watching you ever since the day you were born. Watching and waiting, watching and waiting . . .” “Waiting for what?” “For you to see me, of course, for I am Morgana. Morgana the Teg – the most powerful Teg in the whole of the universe, and that is a very big place. My sister Stella believes that she is the strongest, but she is wrong. Morgana has the greatest power.” “You don’t look very powerful,” said Ramora dismissively, gazing with disdain at the tiny, fluttering fairy. “Smart girl. That is because Morgana is currently between hosts. But you, dear, can help Morgana. And grateful Morgana will help you. With me you can have riches beyond imagination. With me you will not have to marry that boorish merchant. With Morgana you can be a princess and have your choice of princes from around the globe. And there is more . . .” “More?” “Don’t you think it a shame that one day you will die?” “Of course, but everyone dies, eventually, and I am young. I have years before I need to worry about that.” “Ah, but those years fly quickly. Tick tock, tick tock and before you know it you are old and spent. But it does not have to be. If you come to Morgana, you will never die. With me, you will live forever and ever and ever.” Ramora stared at the Teg. “Think about it. I will be watching. But one thing – you must make your decision before you marry. For my magic to work, you must be innocent. Morgana does not care for a soiled body. For Morgana you must be pristine.” And with that she disappeared. Want to read more? Join Debbie Manber Kupfer’s newsletter and download a free copy of Ramora.  Debbie Manber Kupfer grew up in the London. She has lived in Israel, New York and North Carolina and somehow ended up in St. Louis. She lives with her family including two very opinionated felines.
She works as a writer, editor, and puzzle constructor. She is the author of the young adult fantasy series, P.A.W.S. which features a secret international organization of shapeshifters. She has also written several children’s picture books including Adana the Earth Dragon and Esmeralda Grunch and the Red Tulip. She is the editor of the Sins of Time horror series and has stories in anthologies including Fauxpocalypse, 13 Candles, and Corvid19. When not writing or editing fiction she writes puzzles for Penny Press magazines, the Tribune newspaper, and has also published a book of puzzles, Paws 4 Logic with her son, Joey. She believes that with enough tea and dark chocolate you can achieve anything! Where to find Debbie: Paws4Thought: http://debbiemanberkupfer.wordpress.com/ Paws4Puzzles: http://paws4puzzles.wordpress.com/ Facebook Author page: https://www.facebook.com/DebbieManberKupferAuthor Amazon: http://author.to/DebbieManberKupfer Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7142164.Debbie_Manber_Kupfer Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/cRhORP Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/debbiepaws/ YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCjFGmnQLrtSBTkxa3BYddHA Facebook group – P.A.W.S. People: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1399907483420330 Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/debbie-manber-kupfer  For November and December, we will be exploring the Magical World of the Fae. With new interviews, excerpts and more, we will have new posts every Monday.
The Fae range from fairies, to sprites, to brownies and elves. There is so much variety and so many creatures to write about. Here in Ireland, we have many legends about fairies. Banshees are the most famous - a wailing woman who predicts the death of certain people by wailing at night. She is definitely one type of Fae you don't want to meet. Changelings are another type of Fae where a human baby is swapped for a Fae child. This was often used to explain disabilities a child may have had back then. The Fae are complicated and while a lot of them are not strictly bad, they are mostly seen as tricksters. They may help humans from time to time, but they always have a price. What are your favorite types of Fae?  It's Halloween week and the best week of the year! The veil is thinning - can you feel it?
Halloween or Samhain is an important time of year. It is when we honor the dead and those who came before. Yes, it has been commercialized, but we still hold on to some of the traditions. Carved pumpkins are used to keep malevolent spirits away. Traditionally they were turnips, but pumpkins have become more widely used. We dress in costumes to hide ourselves from evil spirits too. The idea being it makes it safer for us to walk among them and avoid being noticed. If you want to celebrate those who have passed, you can light candles and set a place for them at the table. Some people visit local cemeteries to bring offerings to the dead. While Halloween is a fun night for many where they get candy and dress up, it is important to remember those who came before. Have a safe and fun Halloween.       All books are available on Amazon to download.
 Ghosts in the Snow Part of Dark Delights, a paranormal/horror collection by Lily Luchesi “And now, my sweet Vincent, you are mine.” As if those words were a summons, the wind outside began to howl louder, buffeting the windows with snow and ice. Even the stoic Veronica jumped, frightened, as the shutters blew wildly and the window itself unlatched. It flapped back and forth in the wind, banging loudly, hard enough they were both certain the glass would crack. “Bloody Hell!” Vincent said as he leapt up to close the windows. He pounded on the latch, trying to keep it in place. Veronica, however, was not looking at her husband. Rather, she was focused on the image appearing behind and to the right of him. An elderly man with long, brittle, white hair stood, leaning on a monogrammed cane. He flickered a few times before becoming totally solid. “Vincent!” She pointed and he turned. A seasoned hunter, the ghost itself was most likely not what startled him, but rather the fact that there was one here, in their bedroom. And the spirit looked anything but friendly. He pointed his cane at Vincent in an accusatory manor. “Mortals do not lie with demons!” he intoned. Vincent squared his shoulders, his eyes not leaving the spirit. “Who are you? What do you want here, tonight?” “I am the destroyer of evil in this house.” Veronica quietly slipped out of bed, keeping an eye on her husband and the spirit. “No, you are not. You are disturbing us.” Vincent glanced at Veronica and continued, “You do not belong to this world any longer. I compel you to leave this plane and go to your final rest.” The ghost laughed, a wheezing sound. “You cannot compel me to do anything. Not with the evil running in your veins.” “Maybe he cannot, but this certainly can.” Veronica swung the iron fireplace poker through the spirit, temporarily decimating it. Vincent let out a breath. “Friend of yours, perhaps?” Before Veronica could reply, the house began to tremble beneath their feet. They grabbed onto each other as the man’s phantom voice rose to fill the very air in the room. “We are the Keepers of Cumberland Manor, and we will continue our work, no matter how you try to thwart us.” books2read.com/darkdelights  Lily Luchesi is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series.
Her young adult Coven Series has successfully topped Amazon's Hot New Releases list consecutively. She is also the co-owner of Partners in Crime Book Services, where she offers a myriad of services alongside her business partner Annie Smith, including editing. She was born in Chicago, Illinois, where many of her stories are set. Ever since she was a toddler, her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is also an out member of the LGBT+ community. When she's not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading comics and manga. And drinking copious amounts of coffee. She also writes contemporary books for adults as Samantha Calcott. You can also keep up with Lily via her newsletter!  1) Tell us about your book. My story dives into a dystopian world where what we once knew as everyday human beings have now become the creatures of the night, when survival becomes a necessity, not a choice. And where the divide between the rich and the poor becomes a sacrifice for everyone’s well-being. 2) What themes does your book explore? The themes I created hinge on real-world issues: disparity between the rich and the poor, and what it can do to a society in need, ultimately, what life could become if these issues continue to go unchecked. With this story, I exposed one of the many possibilities of what this kind of narrative would do if the assassination of our democracy were to succeed. 3) Tell us something unusual about your main character? As a child, she had the ability to remain stoic. In adulthood, it became her superpower to break the cycle—a resilient and driven woman who found her voice through an unexpected situation. 4) Do you believe in ghosts? I do believe in ghosts! I have never had any personal encounters, but I have heard stories and seen enough videos to make me question their existence. 5) What is next for you? I have a new story, titled Porcelain, a novelette with the flair of the tooth fairy legend coming out this fall! I also have a couple of other works I’m ironing out the kinks with. So, make sure to keep an eye out for them!  Hello! I’m Amber Hassler, known as the Twister of Mystery. With the customary cliché, I write. Nothing is more satisfying than creating a whole world or a set of characters in my mind and sharing it with everyone to read. I have also added ghostwriting, book consulting, and professional editing to my resume. I write for First Comics News, a pop culture nerd website with over two million readers a month, under Twisted News, and run the Horror Writers Association Las Vegas Chapter in my free time.
 I’ve discussed my encounter with the Hat Man before, at length, when I was fourteen. In my life, I have witnessed numerous ghosts and unexplained phenomena as long as I can remember, but rarely did any but my mother witness it with me. Until my boyfriend at the time visited us. While he believed the paranormal was real, he doubted our tale about the ghost in our apartment (one of two at the time; perhaps one day I will tell the world about Katie, too). My mother’s longtime friend for over two decades received the devastating diagnosis: cancer, terminal. He was only in his forties, and the American healthcare system caused much grief when they did not believe him when he said he was ill, thinking him a drug addict. I had not met my mom’s friend since I was about four, at this time I was around fifteen, so it had been some time, but I spoke to him and saw pictures and home videos where he and his friends were at my family’s home, laughing, eating, and alive. There was a tale my mother recalled often, the day she met her friend. It was at his band’s concert; he was a brand new drummer after the old one chose to quit. Mom walked into the backstage area to see someone brushing their long, silken black hair upside down to give it volume. The man stood, flipping his hair back, and my mother swore it was in slow motion. It felt like a bad romance film, she said. However, he was just as gorgeous as a romantic hero, and infinitely kind. Ghosts do come back to visit their loved ones. My nonna did, my mother did, and mom’s friend did as well. He especially came around when we were playing VHS tapes (yeah, this was a while ago, when a VHS/DVD combo player was the norm in most households) that had his band’s music videos on them. When I mentioned it to my boyfriend, he scoffed. “You expect me to believe you summon this dude?” he asked, grinning like I told the funniest joke known to man. He believed in ghosts. He didn’t have a choice; often when we hung out, unexplained things happened around me. “You don’t have to believe me. You’ll see when you come over this weekend,” I replied. Teenage me didn’t have a whole host of confidence, but I was certain of one thing: ghosts are often predictable. Especially the newly dead. We spent a normal day in town, going to the mall, getting Slurpees, typical teen things. Mom picked us up and we went to our place, had dinner, then settled in the living room with the lights low to watch music videos. I can recall we watched a HIM concert, some Iron Maiden, and Mom then put on her friend’s band’s VHS. The way the living room was set up, it was a long rectangle and the couch was in the corner, coffee table before it, and the light from the TV across from it flooded the corner almost like a shadow puppet show would have. Our three silhouettes were clearly displayed across the beige paint job so common in middle America in 2007. Mom and I saw him then. The fourth shadow of a person who was not physically in the room. My boyfriend’s whole body went rigid next to me, no longer dancing in his seat to the music. “Annie? Lily?” he asked, his voice high and tight, much higher than normal. He didn’t turn his head fully; only his eyes moved, glancing from me to his left, to the wall towards his right. As if moving would disturb the spirit. “Yeah?” I asked. “So, um, Annie’s friend…” He finally moved, trying to mimic the shadow. “Did he, um, did he do this?” And my boyfriend proceeded to pretend he was brushing his hair upside down, then flipped his head back up. Just like the spirit did. Just like Mom’s story, which she never told my boyfriend. He could never have known that specific movement to lie and say he saw the spirit along with us. “Yep,” Mom replied. “HOLY SHIT.” You’d think my boyfriend shouted, but the words were somehow at once a yelp and a whisper. “He’s right there!” He cocked his head towards the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “We are aware,” I replied, rolling my eyes a little. “Do you believe me now?” Mom paused the TV, and the fourth shadow vanished now that the music stopped, which my ex also noticed. “I’ve never seen anything like that except when I’m around you,” he accused. Mom gave him a tap on the shoulder. “That’s your cue to know you should be extra nice to her.” I smiled at him, brushing his shoulder with mine. “Yeah. I might get a ghost friend to make you need Viagara.”  Lily Luchesi is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series.
Her young adult Coven Series has successfully topped Amazon's Hot New Releases list consecutively. She is also the founder of Partners in Crime Book Services, where she offers a myriad of services, including editing. They were born in Chicago, Illinois, where many of their stories are set. Ever since she was a toddler, her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two they became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is also an out member of the LGBT+ community. When not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading comics and manga. And drinking copious amounts of coffee. Lily also writes contemporary books for adults as Samantha Calcott, and dark/taboo romance as S.L. Sinclair. www.lilyluchesi.com  If you love ghosts, be sure to check out the Smoke & Shadow Anthology which is available now for FREE!
Six witches, six destinies that could affect the fate of the world... Isadora is a seer who is hired by a vampire to get a vision of his future. What she sees terrifies her and sets in motion a chain reaction of events that could lead to war. ∞ As a voodoo practitioner, Vivienne works with spirits all the time. But when she finds several spirits who don't seem to know that they are dead, she must figure out what happened to them. ∞ Calliope is a necromancer, trapped working for her father at the funeral home. But another side of Calliope longs to be free and she'll do anything to make that happen. ∞ Gwendoline is an expert spellcaster with a troubled past. When an angel asks for help, she finds herself in danger... ∞ Aurora has a talent for potion making, but when she is accused of murder, she has no choice but to trust the Fae for help. ∞ Rosalind is gifted with pyrokinesis. When she is offered a job by a prestigious firm, she jumps at the chance. But where will it lead? In a world filled with werewolves, vampires, monsters and more, witches are the bottom of the pile. But these witches are destined for great things. As their stories unfold, these witches must tap into their powers to save the ones they love and prevent the supernatural factions from killing each other. Will they succeed? Featuring stories from six authors - S. K. Gregory, Sarina Langer, Addison Sinclair, Tavita Knight, Kat Gracey and C.A. King. The Call of Six Anthology is a prequel collection. The Call of Six Novels will be available from October 2025. |
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” 
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