Halloweentown Warlock Novels & Stories

He asked, looking at my sobbing mother who palmed her face. Purple? I took the locket from him and peered at the picture, it was true, his pupils were purple. Werewolves don't have purple eyes. "Was he wearing colored contact lenses?" I asked, looking at my mother. She gave a low sad smile, "No, he wasn't. His eyes are purple because he was a warlock." Wait! What!? A warlock!?

“And what about the other entities we have here? I wouldn’t wanna have a ghost war right before Halloween.” “That I couldn’t tell,” Amy replied. “But I have the feeling he won’t mess with anybody unless they try to mess with him, be it living or nonliving.” “With his size, I don’t think many would dare,” said Isaac. We were already approaching the dark building of Tinicum Hall when Brett and Amy stopped on a dime, signaling us to do the same. “What? What d’you guys see?” asked Brandon, looking ahead like them. “There’s a shadow at the entrance,” said Brett. “And it seems to be talking with— what’s the name again?”

The one used in creating the zombies. He shone his eyes in terror immediately. "An X-blood is here. Master must hear of this!" He picked the maggot and a smile curled around his lips.

Shaking his head my dad said urgently," We need to stop the two Covens first. Simona has given hers to the Serpent Breath Coven and some warlock calling himself Zelos. He is very strong and I want to kick his ass." Glaring at him I rolled my eyes. "Would that be to help the covens or just your pride?" "The man isn't human!" "Neither are we!" I retorted. The chains fell from Axel and Sawyer dragged them off to the corner of the room into a pile. I hugged my mate and he placed me on his lap while he remained situated on the floor. "Atticus is trying to explain that this warlock wants to eliminate all the werewolves and the humans in the area and take claim of the land. I kept hearing about som

The city lay cradled between stone cliffs and frozen pines, cloaked in mist and moonlight a neutral ground carved from old treaties and older blood. Even here, I could feel the tension in the air. Wolf-shifters moved through the streets in wary silence. Some bore the white tattoos of the Highland Clans, others the storm-gray brands of the South. They nodded as I passed, respectful, but wary. I was Frostfang, northern royalty and a healer in a world that only valued warriors. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Something is wrong, Nemphis whispered. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t afford to listen to instincts, not here, not now. I looked up and admired the Hall.

The warlock had to be in his late twenties, and I knew he had come with the second wave of the Covent that showed up here. He began to back out of the crowd like he was going to make a run for it. I turned to Sal and he nodded seeing the same thing I was seeing. The warlock brother’s men began to chant around the circle and the Covent parts leaving the warlock out of the back of the crowd. He knows by the look on his face that he has been made and looks like he is going to make a run for it but looks around and sees he is surrounded. Then what I see shocks me. Black mist comes from the warlock’s hands just like the man that was guarding the hybrids. I quickly look at Hunter and he knows exac

“Why do you always think that when the Council wants a Magickal brought to them, he’s going to get punished?” “He isn’t? It must be something about his blood, then. He’s an unregistered Magickal?” “Well, that’s the clincher, really. That’s why we specifically need you for this assignment. He’s a warlock and he has no idea, and he lives a Mundane as much as we know of, who manages to make himself a billionaire therefore he can afford to live outside of the grid.” I snort. “You’re kidding me. That’s like a made-up story.”

He turned to me with a rare vulnerability etched across his stony face. "Linda, everyone I cared for has been lost to the ravages of time and war. But this—this fight—is to ensure that no one else suffers the same losses." His voice hardened with resolve. "Let's prepare; your vision is a sign we cannot ignore." We moved quickly then, the urgency of my vision propelling us forward. Every second counted—a fact Marcellus knew all too well. He began to chant in an ancient tongue, fingers drawing intricate symbols in the air, weaving a spell that would take us to where we were most needed. To my astonishment, not only was Marcellus a werewolf and seer, but he was also a warlock, similar to my own

I smirked at her, it was not like I didn’t know what I was walking into, “Then your petition better be damn good. My life is depending on it.” “Willow!” a deep guttural bass voice called out suddenly. Both the coven leader and myself turned at the same time. A man, about 6,6 in height with a face covered in marks sporting a Mohawk came out of nowhere. The coven leader bowed, “Grand Warlock,” she greeted. I looked the man in the eye and the ominous feeling I got when he stared back at me sent a shiver down my spine. I could tell just from that look alone, this warlock, whoever he was, was in a far different league than all the others I had seen.

He was neither vampire nor demon nor wolf. He was a warlock — one of those uncomfortable creatures that existed on the margins of all three realms without belonging to any, selling their services to the highest bidder. “Lord Malik,” he greeted with a bow that was more mockery than respect. “How may I serve you on this lovely night?” “I need three things,” Malik said without preamble. “A stable shadow portal into Lycán territory. A partial transformation spell that alters a she-wolf’s appearance without affecting her essence. And a communication link capable of transmitting information at a distance without being detected by the King’s guardians.”