worldwide. The McLean Twins series for teen readers, the Immortal Blood series for mature young adult readers, the Blood Hunters series, also for mature young adults, which is a follow-up for the Immortal Blood series and is created by the readers’ requests, and the Shape Shifter series for anyone aged 16 and up.
Jennifer’s stories are full of creatures of the night. Vampires, demons, witches, shape shifters… but even if they are mostly fiction you can find a hint of truth in every story. Jennifer loves to research, so every time she gets an idea or a new story she has a crazy Google session, looking for places, old myths, names, folklore, magical items… anything that could spice up her story and make it more real for the readers. Jennifer is also part of Authors For Charity, an international author alliance, and a team member of Epilepsy FI magazine. She is a pre-school teacher by profession.
The house was beautiful, and emanated timelessness. It was a masterpiece from another century, a place that should be crawling with life, happiness, and joy, rather than being this quiet grave, a place so similar to a cemetery. No one was to be seen in or outside the house. Nothing moved. Not even the leaves of the ivy covering the gray stone walls. Shannon looked up to the sky. The sun was peeking through the clouds, warming her skin, filling her with false hope and the illusion of being safe. The sun and the beautiful landscape would probably have looked inviting and calm to any mundane traveler, but witches saw the world differently. Shannon could point out at least three possible traps within twenty feet of where they were standing. She knew that the silence was not a sign of peace but of danger, and that the lack of people didn’t mean no one was home. Quite the opposite.
“Nice try,” she cried, laughing out loud. A crow joined her with its raspy voice.
A car door opened close by and a man leaped behind them.
“Simon,” Shannon said without looking at the man. “I was wondering whether you’d show up or let us deal with this mess on our own.”
Simon growled. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be, but there was no way he’d leave those kids without proper back-up. A devilish grin flashed across his face. Yes, they might be witches, but he was a demon. He placed his heavy hands on their shoulders.
Ian stole a quick peek at Simon’s grim features before focusing on the house again. Simon’s black eyes were hollow, the scar across his face unnaturally visible on his pale skin. The demon in him raised its head, making the tattoos entwining his muscled arms squirm as if they were alive. He could sense the evil inside, the devil lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to strike down Shannon and Ian. His grip on the kids’ shoulders tightened. He knew he shouldn’t go into the house. Not when the darkness was whispering in his veins, urging him to do terrible things. The pull was nearly unbearable and yet he knew there was no power, in or outside this world, which could force him to harm a hair on his protégées’ heads. He would rather die than hurt them.
“Let’s do this,” Shannon said to no one in particular.
Ian nodded. “I’ll go first.”
“No.” Simon stopped him before Ian could move. “I’ll go.”
“Are you sure?” Shannon asked, worried.
“Positive.” Simon pushed them aside and strode to the door. “Ready?” He glanced at them.
They nodded and, without saying a word, grabbed each other’s hand, preparing to cast a protection spell over Simon if needed.
Simon opened the door carefully and stopped to listen. Nothing. He moved to the doorway, ready to fight in a blink, but there was no sound or a person anywhere. He stepped inside slowly, Shannon and Ian right on his heels. The silence was disturbing. Candles were burning on the tables and in the chandeliers. The spotless floor gleamed, so clearly someone had cleaned it recently, and through the open door of the living room at the back of the hall they could see a fire dancing in the fireplace. On her left, Shannon saw a pair of boots and an umbrella leaning against the wall, and on the small table near the umbrella was a leather leash. A dog’s leash, and yet there was no dog nearby. No barking or the sound of an approaching animal could be heard. Not even a sniff. The only sounds were their soft footsteps as they carefully moved deeper inside the house.
“Connor?” Shannon whispered.
“Connor?” she tried again a bit louder.
Deep silence. They could’ve heard a needle drop in the room, as even the air seemed to be still. Weird.
Simon walked to the living room door and pushed it open a bit more with his foot. He gestured to the twins to wait. Shannon nibbled on her bottom lip, her hand tightly in Ian’s. Simon peeked carefully into the room. His back stiffened and he quickly withdrew back into the hall.
“What?” Shannon asked as quietly as she could.
Simon closed his eyes for a brief moment, his mouth tight.
“Simon, talk to us,” Shannon demanded. “What’s in there?”
Come back Monday for an excerpt from Deamon's Touch.