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.
Excerpt
Black
Coven:
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.
Nothing.
“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.
