MasukIvy Jones is a 23-year-old student hit by the death of her mother. When dealing with the grief of her mother she uncovers family secrets she is brought into a new life where she helps a detective named Jack Marshall solve a case of an infamous child killer through her newfound paranormal link.
Lihat lebih banyakIvy looked at her aunt, her eyebrows furrowed her hands in mid-air as she tried to decide if she wanted to pick up the old leather-bound book. Worn and faded by the clasp that held it shut. It seemed thick and heavy and smelled musty and aged to match how it looked.Ivy lifted the heavy bound book a small groan as she lifted the large book out of the trunk and walked it to a table not far from them. The small table was illuminated by a small over hanging bulb. Dust particles drifted around them as the booked thudded onto the table. Freda walked alongside her watching her eyes scanning, seeing her every reaction, a soft knowing smile upon her face. Freda was certain that the girls magic was in her. She suspected her mother had locked them away but wasn’t completely sure.Ivy unclasped and opened the old book. She felt a wave of energy pass onto her. The energy rushed through her veins and heated her body. A slight shimmer of light escaped her hands. Her hands trembling, her eyes widene
Marie Elizabeth Owens climbed off the sailboat and stood on the shore of the island that was to be her new home, her fresh start. The Island was thick with vegetation and the sky was a crisp and deep blue that you see in the paintings in the art galleries she heard about in letters from her late husband’s sister. Sinking into the pale cool sand from her weight against the loose ground. Her movements directed her toward a small shack where a man stood. His grey eyes were bold and devilish. Something about then rang to her as untrustworthy. The witch trials were murder hidden in lies. The witch trials were still running hidden underground in the old church tunnels. It was not that this was common knowledge, but Marie had lost her family to the continuing trials. Her mother, her sisters, and her late husband. Warlocks did not get accused of crimes of witchcraft like the witches did. Warlocks often survived but Maries husband Johnas took her place as an accused to save her and their unb
Ivy was still in disbelief at William claiming that witchcraft was real and was used daily. Her mind raced at what he had meant. She walked through the gate of her aunt Freda’s house with a sand brick and green window framed home matched with green fencing and large bushed of various shrubs and a greenhouse filled with a multitude of plants from what ivy could see from the spot she stood. She wandered up to the door unsure if she should knock or just walk in. Her dad’s family had what they called an open-door policy meaning they never knocked and always just waltzed in without a care. Their home was her home, and it was comforting to know she was always welcome. Her dads’ parents and brother accepted Ivy as Dylan’s child too.She heard of kids her were adopted or unions not being accepted and ivy was truly blessed to never have to experience that kind of heart destroying rejection. She always thought it weas so odd to treat the child in such a way when the kid did choose who adopted
Lillian knelt on the ground. Her pregnant belly was getting bigger. She felt the weight of the child growing in her womb. Lillian also felt her power double, a clear sign that the baby that grew in her was powerful too. The wavelength of the baby's power wasn't like Lillian's, it was closer to Williams and that unsettled her, she wasn’t sure why. There were some of the wavelengths that matched her own and she hoped that nurturing the child right would make the child closer to Lillian in nature. There was a long past between Lillian and William. It spans as far back to the age of six. In her heart she knew he wasn't exactly a good warlock, one that often delved into the darker magic. Not like hexes or banishment or a light curse. Something that made his wavelength low and dark. His aura was murky and hard to read, filled with images of death. She wasn’t sure what she had seen and sometimes it was loss mistranslated, corrupted through the person’s pain. She often tried to get to know a






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