Mallory Grace Spiderwick Chronicles Novels & Stories

and princesses, mighty gods and goddesses and the newest ones were pastoral doctrines of miraculous saints which her mother had gifted to her on her birthday every 6th of April. “I wish any one of them were here right now, if they were alive and true, I would ask a spell to turn pretty Nicola and her handsome boyfriend into goats….” Maria scowled, squirming to her right, and said, “I hate them so much!...Uuhhh!” pulling her hands under and over her cushions. It was getting warm in her small parsimonious and white wall room. The sudden upheaval of her bosom made her gasp and so opened her moistening cavity, breaking up the dried-up saliva on the corners of her mouth, “Yaa…aawn…!” Her a

{Grace} I had the perfect imagination for my birthday. My dress was bought a week before, and since it was my eighteenth birthday, I couldn't wait to meet my fated mate, if he would be among the guests. My father had his beta take care of the guest list while the rest of the preparation was personally taken care of by my father, Alpha Moses from the star pack. I was just as excited as every girl in my shoes would be; turning eighteen meant a lot of things, which included shifting for the first time.

Everyone is a pawn for me to toy with. "Maggie?" Gracie's small voice brings me out of my thoughts. She walks over to me in pink pajamas and her wolf plushie. "Where mommy at? Gracie want story and kiss!" She puffs out her cheeks but the usual fire is missing from those red eyes of hers. Her life has been turned upside down so it's to be expected. She'll learn in time.

Willow announced as the first rays of true sunrise touched the central stone. I closed my eyes, letting the dual bracelets guide me as they had in the confrontation with Marcus. The moonstone bracelet glowed with increasing brilliance, its light spiralling outward to touch each of the megalithic stones. Its counterpart responded by deepening the shadows between them, creating a pattern of light and dark that pulsed with the rhythm of my heartbeat. "I am Marabelle Daisy Graystone," I called, my voice carrying farther than should have been physically possible. "Daughter of Alexander and Elara, heir to the Moon Wolf bloodline. I call to the land that has known my ancestors since the first pack

I turned to Max with a questioning stare, but he merely shrugged in return. “Stop acting like fools and sit down dammit!” She voiced her frustration. We took out seats and waited for her to speak, but her words never came. She stretched out her hand and a ball of whirl wind formed in her palm, taking Max and I by surprise. “My name is Gracey and just like you are seeing it right now, I am a sorcerer.” She finished off her word and the ball of whirl wind vanished immediately. “What do you want with this pack.” Max asked.

Grace said “I guess it’s my only option then. Leave this body and then kill every one of you, starting with you!” she said “Again, you have underestimated me. I did think of that too and I decided that the only way to end you once and for all is to put you in a body strong enough to fight you and hold you at the same time. Annabelle doesn’t have that type of strength right now but Damian does. You see the bracelet on his hand, it wouldn’t only stop you from using your powers when you get into his body. It is a binding spell that binds his body and Annabelle so if you jump out of her body, you would jump into his!” Grace said

She rejoiced in her head nearing the staircase that she almost reached her room, when a voice stopped her. “Not so fast Gracy,” Macy stopped her. Grace turned round to spot her sitting on the sofa comfortably next to Adrian who was pouring her some champagne in the wine glass. She cursed for not seeing them earlier but blamed it partly on the dimly lit room and the continuous thoughts that ran in her mind to keep her distracted throughout her mission of escaping attention. “You were not trying to run from us, were you now?” Macy took a sip of the drink while Adrian popped a gummy bear in his ,outh, enjoying the little scene before him.

The golden thread on Grace’s wrist began to glow, turning from black to a blinding, painful gold. "Stop!" the Younger Self screamed, his voice flickering, sounding like a dozen different versions of Jinyan at once. "You're breaking the seal! The pressure—" "Let it break!" Jinyan roared. The wooden bird on the ghost's shoulder burst into flames—blue-gold fire that didn't burn but consumed. Grace let out a sharp gasp, her black eyes clearing, the abyssal dark receding like a low tide. "Daddy?" she whispered, her voice tiny and terrified.

The air shifted. And Elowyn squared her shoulders-ready. The witches hesitated, then moved to her side. One reached for her hand. Another placed a steadying palm on her back. Together, quietly, almost reverently, they walked to stand in a tight circle around her. Mama Mariah, calm as ever, stepped forward. "Child," she said gently, "for Mia's awakening... it must be my granddaughter, Dawn. Dawn and six other witch‑children." Elowyn blinked hard. "Children?"

"The real Grace Walker was left in that town and shamed for the rest of her life. That woman is not Grace. Her name is Vivian Miller." Vivian's face twisted. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Vivian Miller? That's absurd." I clicked again. A set of records appeared: Red Creek High School yearbook pages, church baptism files, Miller family cemetery donation records, and a recent photograph. In the photo, the woman everyone called Grace Walker-Hale wore sunglasses and a black coat while standing in a country cemetery. The headstone in front of her read: Miller Family. She was holding flowers and looking down at the grave.