Anne Rice's Mayfair Witches Novels & Stories

POV: GUS The message comes in while I’m drinking bad coffee and waiting for a signal that will make me go after Eli. It’s not dramatic. That’s the worst part. No explosion. No scream. Just a knock at the door and one of the witches standing there with her eyes too steady and her mouth too tight. “What is it?” “We were tracking Arachne and we saw that she met up with Eli today at the market.” That's strange. “I wants aware they even knew each other. What would they have to discuss together?”

Tawny continued with a shrug, “But I’m sure that's not the reason why you asked us to come here.” “Of course it isn't!” Ruzette insisted, “More so since that statement is false, but also because of the rumors I've been hearing. I've heard that-” “Here you go, darlings. Another round of meads and cider.” The wench picked up the empty mugs and replaced them with the full ones. I happily reached over to grab my mug of mead, “I’ll be right back with your food. Cooks almost finished with the buttered potatoes and sandwiches.”

"Let's just say I've been on the case since it appeared three years ago." "Who are you?" "Alice Von Rozen," I watch as the color on Megan's face turns pale as a ghost once I give her my name. "The Mistress of Pandora Castle, the granddaughter of the Grand Duke, Cornelius Von Rozen, the war hero. Your Alice Von Rozen - the Red Witch." I pull on a smirk. "In the flesh." "So you're not Pendleton's assistant, figured." Megan scoffs and then asks. "What happened to the geezer?" Wondering how I disgust myself as a guest under Herman Pendleton.

“We are.” Anne held her eyes for a long moment and then nodded. “We will contact the other witches and continue our scrying efforts. Aislen Carter will keep us informed, Lauren, we must trust her and her mates to find our Jessica for us.” Aislen wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the implied trust, or fearful of failing it. “I have an idea,” she told them. “I see things sometimes in my dreams and… Do you know Charlotte McKenzie and Haven Farm?”

Mistress, as if kneeling before a queen. The Witch Queen lives. And worse — Tremaine serves her. A chill coiled down my spine as Flynn’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “What’s wrong? What happened up there?” “We have to leave.” The words spilled out too fast, too sharp. I shoved books, scraps, the necklace from the drawer into the burlap sack. My hands trembled so violently I almost tore the cloth. “Now. Before she comes.” Flynn blinked at me, bewildered. “Leave? Why—”

WITCHES: THE RISING PLOT The era of witches is gone forgotten by all but a few who has lived through it. However, a teenage girl discovers her powers in an unexpected manner. With the unlike squad she has come to regard as family, what are the challenges they will face in a world predominantly governed by humans? Will they come out whole, alive, unscarred and unscathed? CHAPTER 1 PILOT Clara’s POV:

As she looked at the two women in the distance, Alice frowned, “What’s the problem with Maggie? She doesn’t look happy.” Damian was about to explain what happened to her when a woman approached them. “Mr. Wilson, Hello,” the woman said in a deep voice. Her features were not delicate, but she had stunning blue eyes. She was dressed elegantly in a shirt dress with a brown belt around her waist, and her black hair cascaded over her shoulder, making her look chic. As Alice seized the woman up Damian said, “This is Miss Beatrice Jones, Alice, a friend of Aria and mine.”

"But remember, betraying Ariana's trust was never your intent. It was a secret you had to keep." The weight of my strained friendship with Ariana was heavy, but a sliver of optimism remained. Suddenly, our hushed voices were drowned out by a burst of excited chatter from a nearby table. A group of customers, their faces flushed with anticipation, were discussing a local legend. "Did you hear?" one man leaned forward, his voice lowered in secrecy. "Old Agnes, the hedge witch, is back to her home town!" Intrigued, I and Nico exchanged glances. Agnes. Another witch?

As soon as he saw me, he stopped screaming. “What? Aren't you going to scream anymore?” “Who are you? And what do you want from me?” “Mr. Charles Newman, you are the father of Annabel, correct?” “y…yes, how did you know?” “I'm sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Ciara Mayfield. I used to be the Knighters pack witch.” “Uh!” Charles scoffed. “I want nothing to do with that goddess' forsaken pack. How did you find me?”

The voice of an old woman echoed in the room causing Alicia to snap her head toward the lady's direction, she had no idea when she came in. She was a bit old, with ginger hair. She was very beautiful, just like all the witches are. She looked way younger than her age, which Alicia could guess would be around 80 or something near that. The woman did not come alone, she had two other powerful women accompany her, or maybe they were also strong witches.