Silhouette Covers Novels & Stories

“He’s got cover. Work fast, witch.” Silas sank to his knees, palms pressed to the ground. Arcane glyphs flared in a circle around the gate, glowing and humming. Rio, Lucien, Adonis, Claude, Odessa, and Celine circled him, their bodies moving faster than the eye could track. Shadows and lightning. Claws and steel. Above them, clouds churned blacker and thicker than before. The first drops of rain fell, cold and heavy. Thunder cracked so loud it seemed to split the sky.

Nails, bricks, and remnants of construction materials littered the area, adding to the eerie ambiance. With a deep breath, he finally drove the car forward and rolled down the window. He wanted to know who sent him the pictures, and why was the person so desperate to have Clover. "Just leave her here." A rough, husky tone came through from behind a slanted pillar. It sounded like he purposely made it that way. "And you'll get the original copies." The man didn't reveal his face. Only the silhouette of his body could be seen.

Obstacles that could be overcome, but how? Matthias stood still and watched as she continued down the path and noticed that she turned around again, seeking one last glance at him before she disappeared from view. He knew right then and there that he needed to win her over and quickly. He needed a plan to win her over. Immediately! There was no time to waste! Time was of the essence. But how? Pure and simple, manipulation. Manipulation. Reader Notes: Welcome to the world of Das Schatten, aka, the Shadows. The Schatten can turn into shadows and travel through walls and objects, unless they are bound with silver chains.

I released a breath and tugged down my black feathered mask. My mask was an essential part of my night job as DJ Butterfly. I wore it because it not only gave me some form of anonymity, it allowed me to pretend that I was someone else, at least for a while. Behind the turntable and the mask I was Butterfly, confident, sexy, not-at-all-in-debt-with-a-technically-dead-sister-in-the-hospital. As Butterfly I could pretend to love my too-sharp curves and my big mouth that didn't mind spewing whatever I was thinking when provoked.

Jessie leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, “We act.” Jessie stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, her fingers trailing lightly over the smooth fabric of her gown. The eggshell A-line dress hugged her curves perfectly, the nude color blending seamlessly with her skin, creating an illusion of barely wearing anything. Her red hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, adding a fiery contrast to the softness of her attire.

At 5'10", her presence commanded attention, but she preferred to stay unnoticed. Her dark skin glowed under the morning sun, and her eyes, a striking shade of amber, held secrets untold. She pulled her hood tighter, hoping to shield herself from the prying eyes she could already feel on her. She sighed, remembering the last town, the last school, the last narrow escape. The coven was always a step behind her, their sinister intentions cloaked in shadow but ever-present. She couldn’t afford to grow attached, couldn’t afford to make friends or enemies. But she knew this routine all too well. Blend in, keep your head down, and move on before anyone gets too close.

“Not good that he wants to strangle you. Just… good to know. I wasn’t sure if you were like… best friends or partners or… I don’t know.” Domenico’s lips twitched upward again. “Brothers. For better or worse.” I nodded, feeling braver now that I hadn’t been kicked out or glared at yet. And because my mouth clearly had a death wish, the second question tumbled out before I could stop it. “And… why do you always wear shades? Even inside?” Another beat of silence. Longer this time. Heavy enough to make my stomach twist a little. Domenico’s fingers stilled against the counter.

Perhaps he was doing this out of guilt, or perhaps he wanted to use the baby as a chain to keep me around after I found out about his affair. Hesitation was snuffed out by the thoughts of what I'd done earlier, though. Or what he thought I'd done. He had no idea when those photos were taken. Helen would never do anything that'd disgrace him, or so he thought. Therefore, I became his prime suspect. He wanted to teach me a painful lesson. I came out looking like a ghost thanks to the premature labor. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the corpse of my bruised child. The doctor told him it was a girl.

The twilight deepened, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep blues. The gulls had quieted. The distant sounds of the city were a soft hum. In our little grove, the world shrank to the two of us and the vast, darkening sea. The silence wasn't awkward. It was heavy, thick with everything we couldn't say. But it was a comfortable heaviness. The bond, usually a source of ache or tension, hummed with a quiet, steady contentment. It was like a muscle, painfully clenched for years, finally allowed to relax.