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Hayle Coven Inheritance

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. The Challenge “Jagger Santos,” Coradine said, voice singsong and trying to be endearing while I gagged a little over her cutsie attempt to be coy. So gross. “This is the one I was telling you about.” He didn’t look at her, his hunger for the fight apparent. “Ethie Hayle,” he said, deep voice full of daggers. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” I could have said no. Just turned on my heel and left, walked away, got the hell out of there. Should have. It was one thing to fight my own coven for “fun” occasionally. A way to let off steam, to expend some of my pent up anger in a reasonably safe way that ensured if they didn’t like me, they at least stayed out of my way. But a witch from another territory? The Santos coven wasn’t exactly on GreatGram’s favorite list, either. This could only end badly. Ethie Hayle has spent her whole life sheltered by the coven, her powerful family and the fear that an unknown enemy could, at any moment, leap out of the veil and hurt her. Talk about smothering when all she wants is to have the freedoms her oh-so-special brother, Gabriel, seems to take for granted. But when a strange woman appears and offers her a gift, Ethie discovers the concerns her mother and great-grandmother have harbored aren’t all that ridiculous after all and that there are powers in the Universe she can’t imagine…

Patti Larsen · Fantasy
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123 Chs

Chapter 109: Hong Kong

I knew I was in Hong Kong before I even opened my eyes, though it was a disorienting little bit of understanding to accept I lay in a safe and comfortable bed, tucked in, dressed in my favorite pajamas, the windows tinted to keep the light out, soft whir of the circulation system maintaining the air at the perfect temperature, fresh, light, familiar.

Agonizingly painful to endure, this normalcy when nothing would ever be normal again.

Think me a coward all you want, but I'd been through a lot and coming right out of what happened with a bounce in my step and ready for the next hit of horror and pressure while I did my best to cling to my humanity and any trace of what used to be my moral compass? Yeah, it would have to wait.

I had some deep and painful mourning to do. Oh, and don't forget the guilt-fest of self-flagellation, endless stream of why mes and the ongoing descent into recrimination, shame and pity.