What's Done In The Dark Book Novels & Stories

he said, and the faint smile that curved his mouth made my skin prickle. "Or perhaps they've already left their mark on our world in ways we can’t yet see. Either way, the tale of Alexei and his family is a reminder that even in the shadows, there is light. And sometimes," he added, almost under his breath, "that light is more dangerous than the darkness." The projector flickered off with a mechanical sigh. The fluorescent lights blinked awake, throwing the hall into a harsh, clinical brightness that made everything—the desks, the scratched floors, the pale faces around me—feel suddenly too real.

— We have a division in magic manipulation. I agreed, watching her close her hand, and some of the books from the shelf came towards us, piling up on the hidden table in the darkness. It was amazing to see, and I could hardly believe my luck. Now I was there, watching books floating in front of me. It was really quite a change. — Witches, Sorceresses, Wizards, Wicca, and Archmages. — Right.

"First of all, we cannot use magic. Secondly dark magic is not something you can just play with. Let this go Shira…. Just talk to Theodore. For what it's worth, I do believe you guys can make it through." "Absolutely! dark magic!" She chuckled nervously. "You're right, what was I thinking?" She forced a smile up her face. "Thank you for everything." She turned around and walked straight out the door. A devious smile settled on her face, unknowingly to Laura, she had just given her an idea. There was a book, taken from a coven of witches that once waged war against their pack years back. A book that contained instructions on dark magic. This book was now secured in the castle's vault, and had

The dark corner was pitch black without a glimmer of light or moonlight. Zoey caught the faint smell of alcohol. Her palms against the man's chest felt solid to the touch. The fabric of the man's suit was of the highest quality because it was soft and comfortable. She was night-blind, so she couldn't see anything in the dark. Going by her gut and the familiar scent, she fell silent for a bit before whispering, "Laurence?" Like a stone thrown into the sea, her cries went unanswered. She was afraid of the dark. As time passed, the fear took her, and her lashes fluttered.

HIS DARKEST SHADE BOOK-THREE ~Prologue~ “Even if you end up hating me for it.” His tone was vicious. “I might scare you,” he continued, his gaze roaming over her trembling form, “but they are far worse—formidable, vicious… and willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.” He gestured toward her. “Including you.” “Never.” She shook her head, her voice trembling but firm. “I’m not scared of your words. You’re just trying to scare me so I’ll listen to you!”

I turned to the very last page—the one my father-in-law had been writing the day he died. The page was blank, except for a single, trembling line of ink at the top. The Weaver knows the code. The Architecture is the Grave. I closed the book, the sound of the leather snapping shut like a gunshot in the quiet car. The "Day-by-Day" was gone. We were into the "Night-by-Night" now. And as the Suburban hit the open highway, the speedometer climbing toward ninety, I realized that the 300,000 words of our story were only just beginning to get darker. And as the grey Chicago rain began to lash against the windows once again—no, as the black North Woods ice began to coat our path—I realized that I was

Jeremy’s across the room working on a painting, the smell of turpentine and oil paint filling the apartment, the soft scratch of his brush against canvas the only sound besides the distant hum of traffic outside. Then it happens. A flutter. So faint I think I must have imagined it, like the whisper of butterfly wings brushing against the inside of my stomach. I go completely still, not even breathing, my hand frozen on the page. Nothing. Maybe I made it up. Then it happens again and this time there’s no mistaking it, this tiny rolling sensation that’s stronger and more deliberate. I gasp out loud. My book slides off my lap and hits the floor with a thud but I don’t reach for it.

The words shifted as I stared, letters rearranging themselves until I could read them clearly. The blood of light will walk among shadows. I sucked in a breath. "She will hear voices not her own." "She will run and she will be found." My hands trembled. This wasn’t possible. This was some sick coincidence. I flipped the page. Images flickered across the paper, not quite words. A forest bathed in moonlight. Golden eyes watching from the dark. A woman standing between light and shadow, her hands glowing. The woman in the image looked like me!!

Why would Maggie’s ancestors want to conjure and evil spirit or raise the dead? Fascinated by the pull of the words on the page, she softly whispered the Bring Forth the Dead Incantation. A cold chill swept over her and her temples throbbed. She carefully placed the ribbon down the interior binding of the pages and closed the book shut. The crystal didn’t look quite so out of place as it lay against the bottom of the pages. In fact, there was so much room between the size of the cover and the size of the pages that crystal tucked right up into the gap when she set the book on end. It was a perfect fit.

"Do you know what I was thinking when I made the plan? I thought I could kill them, but... I also thought it was too easy; I want to make it harder for them little by little until they can't get up again; I want to see how they suffer, how they live in hell, and how they can live in darkness." Sheena chuckled and shook her head. "I've spent my entire life living in darkness; there's no light, and no one can help, so I promised myself that one day I'd come out of the darkness, and my wish has come true." Sheena sipped her drink and smiled. "In her last letter, Mother Esme told me to seek the light of hope, and that's you." She looked at Gaze, who was just listening to her. "You are my light,