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Hayle Coven Novels

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. ***WORLD'S BEST STORY2014*** Her mom's a witch. Her dad's a demon. And she just wants to be ordinary. I batted at the curl of smoke drifting off the tip of my candle and tried not to sneeze. My heavy velvet cloak fell in oppressive, suffocating folds in the closed space of the ceremony chamber, the cowl trapping the annoying bits of puff I missed. I hated the way my eyes burned and teared, an almost constant distraction. Not that I didn't welcome the distraction, to be honest. Anything to take my mind from what went on around me. Being part of a demon raising is way less exciting than it sounds. Sydlynn Hayle's teen life couldn't be more complicated. Trying to please her coven is all a fantasy while the adventure of starting over in a new town and fending off a bully cheerleader who hates her are just the beginning of her troubles. What to do when delicious football hero Brad Peters--boyfriend of her cheer nemesis--shows interest? If only the darkly yummy witch, Quaid Moromond, didn't make it so difficult for her to focus on fitting in with the normal kids despite her paranormal, witchcraft laced home life. Add to that her crazy grandmother's constant escapes driving her family to the brink and Syd's between a rock and a coven site. Forced to take on power she doesn't want to protect a coven who blames her for everything, only she can save her family's magic. If her family's distrust doesn't destroy her first.

Patti Larsen · Urbain
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803 Chs

Chapter 774: Endless Grief

They pulled me back at last, finally jerking me from the black to face it. To face my loss, a loss so deep it smothered the sadness I felt for Liam. Devoured any caring for my own personal safety. Destroyed any hope I had to ever, ever be happy again.

Never again.

My son was dead.

Crib death, Lula called it. Which only rarely happened to witch babies, for obvious reasons. Because their mothers took care of them, didn't they? Used power to protect them, guard over them, keep them breathing and alive and beautiful.

What the hell kind of mother was I?

Trill lay down next to me, resting her head on my pillow, hand under her cheek on my shoulder. "Please don't run again," she whispered. "I almost didn't find you this time."

I wished she hadn't. Stared at the canopy above me and willed myself to die.

Just die already.

A giant face appeared at the foot of my bed, topping broad shoulders, scaled skin, diamond eyes. Max. My hate raged.