Melissa Croft Novels & Stories

Even TikTok edits with dramatic music. The internet is hungry, and Melissa—well, she was their perfect meal. I should’ve expected it. She’s a celebrity. Not just another woman walking down the street. People watch her every move. They wait for her to slip, even a little, because it makes them feel better about their own ordinary lives. Melissa was light to so many people, and now, I had fed them darkness.

Her eyes narrowed, and something shifted in the air around her. “This isn’t just a curse,” she said. “This is Valtora. Magic that should’ve died with the witches who created it.” Frank stepped back, uneasy. Even Philip looked shaken. Melissa raised her chin. “But I’ve studied things even the High Circle feared to touch. I’ve stood in circles that cracked the ground beneath me. I’ve broken spells carved in blood, bound in bone.” The torches lining the walls flickered violently, reacting to her power. “I am not a hedge witch. I am not a healer. I am Melissa of the Black Flame,” she said, voice ringing through the room. “One of the most powerful witches to walk this earth.”

Rissa paused, then added carefully, “But there’s something you should know. Something everyone’s talking about.” “What?” “Melissa was a spy.” The words came out hushed, almost reverent. “According to people, she was sent here five years ago by another pack. To infiltrate Shadowcrest. To learn their secrets.” My mind reeled. Melissa had said as much during her confession in the courtyard, but hearing it confirmed made it more real somehow. “And you know what the alphas hate most in this world?” I had a feeling I knew, but I asked anyway. “What?”

“Melissa, Hazel, the one I told you about, the new professor.” Melissa turns with a smile, her expression curious and open. “Ah, the occult studies professor. That’s not something you hear every day.” I smile and shake her hand. “It certainly makes for interesting conversations.” We spent a few minutes talking to her. Melissa works in publishing and seems genuinely fascinated by the academic side of supernatural lore. She asks about the strangest myth I’ve ever researched, and I tell her about a 17th century love spell involving frogs and hair clippings. We share a quiet laugh before Valerie pulls me gently along again.