Something wicked and deadly is brewing in the haunted town of Ravenwood…
And only demon butt-kicking, magick-slinging Shiloh Saintcrow can stop all the wrathy badness.
Now that she’s been tasked with protecting the sacred spellbooks, she’s being hunted by the deadliest spawns of Hell. Even though fighting the forces of darkness might be her sacred duty, for Shiloh, it feels more like a suck-tastic curse.
With vampires skulking in Ravenwood, Shiloh’s not only battling the undead, but also her extreme attraction to the muscular and hunky, with an extra side of broody, Trent Donovan, and the smoking hot yet mysterious Raze.
Except, this vampire slayer has bigger issues to deal with than cute boys, like restraining the demony essence that’s infecting her magick, and stopping an evil from starting the apocalypse.
Despite all the bloodsuckers and demons ranking high on the witch-o-meter, they pale in comparison to the shocking truths that Shiloh uncovers in Craven Manor. Dark secrets that could shatter her world…or possibly end it.
And only demon butt-kicking, magick-slinging Shiloh Saintcrow can stop all the wrathy badness.
Now that she’s been tasked with protecting the sacred spellbooks, she’s being hunted by the deadliest spawns of Hell. Even though fighting the forces of darkness might be her sacred duty, for Shiloh, it feels more like a suck-tastic curse.
With vampires skulking in Ravenwood, Shiloh’s not only battling the undead, but also her extreme attraction to the muscular and hunky, with an extra side of broody, Trent Donovan, and the smoking hot yet mysterious Raze.
Except, this vampire slayer has bigger issues to deal with than cute boys, like restraining the demony essence that’s infecting her magick, and stopping an evil from starting the apocalypse.
Despite all the bloodsuckers and demons ranking high on the witch-o-meter, they pale in comparison to the shocking truths that Shiloh uncovers in Craven Manor. Dark secrets that could shatter her world…or possibly end it.
Hold onto your wooden stake, booklovers!
From bestselling author Sherry Soule comes the page-turning, genre-defying tale of Shiloh, the snarky heroine of the Charmed Chronicles. Dive into this action-packed saga of rogue demon hunters, über-cool magical powers, bloodthirsty paranormal creatures, and sizzling-hot romance.
This young adult urban fantasy series is a humorous slice of awesomeness packed with more plot twists than a demon's intestines and more ghostly chills than a haunted house. It's all kinds of spook-tastic amazeballs!
READ AN EXCERPT
Everything at Craven Manor went eerie and still, as if someone had turned the whole world to a dead, static-y TV channel. The ground shifted under my feet and I wobbled like I was walking through a carnival funhouse with moving floors. Even the formidable Craven Manor violently shook as if a freight train went thundering past.
When the earthquake settled, the blue wards encircling the mansion snapped and crackled—a protection spell I had placed around the house like a warning device against dark forces.
This was no natural earthquake; it was a horrifying rumble from deep within the belly of the Earth. At a glance, Ravenwood resembled any other coastal town in Northern California with tree-lined sidewalks in every neighborhood. Even the constant fog was similar since the town was so close to the San Francisco Bay. But that’s where the comparisons ended.
Beneath Ravenwood was the Harrows, a big yawning pit of evilness and one of the thirteen gateways into the Underworld. The earthquake indicated that the barrier between Earth and that Hell dimension was fracturing.
Swirling mist rushed over the grass, hugging the stone statues and pouring into the empty fountain. The air thickened with the stench of sulfur. A hush ensued, as heavy and thick as the ground fog surrounding the estate. Dead silent, except for the insects humming and bees buzzing near the rosebushes.
Something bad crept near, making the fine hairs on my neck bristle. The wards sparked again.
Make that extreme with the badness.
Although, I wasn’t sure what flavor of paranormal had ventured onto the estate, I was instantly on guard. The scar on my forearm burned.
In the shadows of the oaks, a vaporous shape shimmered—teleported—into existence. The reptile-like creature was seven-feet-tall with yellow eyes. The demon stood immobile and mute as a stone gargoyle. His humanoid body, covered with scaly, soot-colored flesh and black pants, became corporeal.
“Speaking of evil incarnates…” My stomach lurched, sending bile into my mouth with a barf-worthy aftertaste. “Esael.”
The demon nodded. “Shiloh.”
For a moment, my feet felt rooted to the ground as if thorny weeds had wrapped around my legs, anchoring me in place. Beneath my ribcage, the Darkness roused like a living thing and warmed my chest. I ground my teeth and forced natural magick to suppress that intense power, and the Darkness rumbled in annoyance.
Hesitantly, I glanced away from the demon bathed in shadows and searched the area. No workers in sight.
The trunk containing my family’s grimoires—journals filled with spells, potions, and info on paranormals—sat in the library inside the manor, along with my mentor, Evans. And the demon wanted those books about as much as I wanted him dead.
“You want me to kick your ass again?” My voice wobbled, yet a rise of defiance lent me an ounce of inner-strength. “You’re not the brightest demon in the Underworld, are you? Maybe just the ugliest?”
“Ah, nothing like sarcasm to disguise fear. How transparent you are, little witch.” Esael smiled, darkness clinging to him like a black cloak. The way his stare followed my every movement, focused as a laser, made my body tremble.
It took a bunch of energy and magick for Esael to maintain his corporeal body, and without total solidness, I couldn’t hurt him. But I could always try.
“What’re you doing here, Esael?”
“When I’m not plotting world domination,” he said, “I like visiting this realm and finding tasty morsels to suck on.”
“There isn’t a club med for demonic folks? Some hot locale for your breed to hang?”
I kept him talking while I summoned more natural magick to slide into my hands, now faintly glowing with sapphire and fuchsia. The power increased my courage, and I hoped he liked the sound of his own voice so much that he wouldn’t notice.
“Sadly, no. And I am not looking to mingle. I have much more urgent demands to discuss,” he said, an icing of friendliness in his tone.
“Honesty.” I stayed in the safety of the sunlight. “Do villains even have a morality clause?”
“Demons never lie. It’s one of our best qualities.” Esael sneered, then chuckled. “No, not really. Having no morals is much more of a virtue.”
A witch and a demon having a conversation beside a haunted house. It was like the opener of a lame joke, except I didn’t feel like laughing. A numb, sick feeling had settled in my gut. If Esael was here, he had an objective. Maybe I could get him to spill his plans instead of my blood.
“Yeah, well, it definitely takes a moral-less piece of garbage like you to do what you did to those girls—keeping them captive in that Hell dimension and then trying to slurp out their souls.” I swallowed past a lump. “Paige moved away because of you! I had to erase her memories with a spell so she wouldn’t have to relive the horrors you put her through.”
“Did you think you could stop me?” Esael’s features twisted with malice. “Prevent the Evocation Ritual by killing my disciplines and rescuing those humans?”
Despite all my snarkiness, my heart thundered. I glanced to the right and spotted a discarded rake about six feet away. A weapon. Deliberately slow, I inched toward it, and tried to look casual. I was brave, but not stupid.
“I’m not letting you open the Harrows, or hurt anyone else.”
“Such courageous words coming from someone who fears the dark.” He slid his hands behind him and paced within the shade of the overhanging branches. “The thought of spilling your blood just brings me this perverse amount of joy.”
“Guess the witty banter is taking a commercial break. We almost had a polite conversation, but then you had to go and spoil it with nasty threats.” I moved another step toward the rake resting on a pile of leaves.
He snickered. “You are no match for me, Thirteenth Daughter.”
“And you’re entitled to your very wrong opinion.”
Esael glanced at my fists, glowing with magick in vivid blues and purples. I tried to hold onto the mystical energy, though it took lots of practice and concentration to keep it strong in my mental grasp.
“You act tough, like the heroine of your own short life, but you must realize that most of your power is rooted in darkness. You must sense its malignant influence. We are kindred now. We share blood—a bond.”
My scalp prickled with sweat, and that demonic essence within me twitched at his words.
Another step closer to the rake. “Nah-uh.”
“You are still in denial.”
I shuffled over the dirt and leaves. The rake only two feet away. “Looks like.”
Esael smirked. “We should take this inside. Privacy and all that.”
Turning into a gust of shadowy vapors, Esael flew into the manor through an open window, the wards crackling and sparking. He was right about one thing. There wasn’t much I could do to seriously hurt him with my feeble magick, but I had to try. Leaving the rake behind, I gave chase.
Vanquishing an upper-level demon was a lot harder than I’d first thought. Cool TV series like Supernatural usually made killing paranormals look easy, with only a few words in Latin and a drawing of an ancient symbol on the floor and—poof!—demon be gone. In real-life, sending a powerful demon back into the Underworld was a whole lot trickier.
I stepped inside the mansion, the foyer as big and fancy as any five-star hotel. The wood floors gleamed in the sunshine spilling through the stained glass. A baroque staircase on the right ended at a rotunda overlooking the first-floor. I scanned the rooms jutting from the main lobby. At the end of the foyer was a corridor that led to the library with the spellbooks and Evans, and I had to protect both.
Noises coming from a parlor on the left had me rushing in that direction. I felt like I should be quieter, but he knew I would follow. Knew I would feel compelled to stop whatever wickedness he was planning.
My footsteps sounded too loud on the hardwood floor. Pausing at the closed door, my hand felt too sweaty on the doorknob. I pushed open the door, the hinges creaking loudly. With a breath in and out, I stepped inside....
When the earthquake settled, the blue wards encircling the mansion snapped and crackled—a protection spell I had placed around the house like a warning device against dark forces.
This was no natural earthquake; it was a horrifying rumble from deep within the belly of the Earth. At a glance, Ravenwood resembled any other coastal town in Northern California with tree-lined sidewalks in every neighborhood. Even the constant fog was similar since the town was so close to the San Francisco Bay. But that’s where the comparisons ended.
Beneath Ravenwood was the Harrows, a big yawning pit of evilness and one of the thirteen gateways into the Underworld. The earthquake indicated that the barrier between Earth and that Hell dimension was fracturing.
Swirling mist rushed over the grass, hugging the stone statues and pouring into the empty fountain. The air thickened with the stench of sulfur. A hush ensued, as heavy and thick as the ground fog surrounding the estate. Dead silent, except for the insects humming and bees buzzing near the rosebushes.
Something bad crept near, making the fine hairs on my neck bristle. The wards sparked again.
Make that extreme with the badness.
Although, I wasn’t sure what flavor of paranormal had ventured onto the estate, I was instantly on guard. The scar on my forearm burned.
In the shadows of the oaks, a vaporous shape shimmered—teleported—into existence. The reptile-like creature was seven-feet-tall with yellow eyes. The demon stood immobile and mute as a stone gargoyle. His humanoid body, covered with scaly, soot-colored flesh and black pants, became corporeal.
“Speaking of evil incarnates…” My stomach lurched, sending bile into my mouth with a barf-worthy aftertaste. “Esael.”
The demon nodded. “Shiloh.”
For a moment, my feet felt rooted to the ground as if thorny weeds had wrapped around my legs, anchoring me in place. Beneath my ribcage, the Darkness roused like a living thing and warmed my chest. I ground my teeth and forced natural magick to suppress that intense power, and the Darkness rumbled in annoyance.
Hesitantly, I glanced away from the demon bathed in shadows and searched the area. No workers in sight.
The trunk containing my family’s grimoires—journals filled with spells, potions, and info on paranormals—sat in the library inside the manor, along with my mentor, Evans. And the demon wanted those books about as much as I wanted him dead.
“You want me to kick your ass again?” My voice wobbled, yet a rise of defiance lent me an ounce of inner-strength. “You’re not the brightest demon in the Underworld, are you? Maybe just the ugliest?”
“Ah, nothing like sarcasm to disguise fear. How transparent you are, little witch.” Esael smiled, darkness clinging to him like a black cloak. The way his stare followed my every movement, focused as a laser, made my body tremble.
It took a bunch of energy and magick for Esael to maintain his corporeal body, and without total solidness, I couldn’t hurt him. But I could always try.
“What’re you doing here, Esael?”
“When I’m not plotting world domination,” he said, “I like visiting this realm and finding tasty morsels to suck on.”
“There isn’t a club med for demonic folks? Some hot locale for your breed to hang?”
I kept him talking while I summoned more natural magick to slide into my hands, now faintly glowing with sapphire and fuchsia. The power increased my courage, and I hoped he liked the sound of his own voice so much that he wouldn’t notice.
“Sadly, no. And I am not looking to mingle. I have much more urgent demands to discuss,” he said, an icing of friendliness in his tone.
“Honesty.” I stayed in the safety of the sunlight. “Do villains even have a morality clause?”
“Demons never lie. It’s one of our best qualities.” Esael sneered, then chuckled. “No, not really. Having no morals is much more of a virtue.”
A witch and a demon having a conversation beside a haunted house. It was like the opener of a lame joke, except I didn’t feel like laughing. A numb, sick feeling had settled in my gut. If Esael was here, he had an objective. Maybe I could get him to spill his plans instead of my blood.
“Yeah, well, it definitely takes a moral-less piece of garbage like you to do what you did to those girls—keeping them captive in that Hell dimension and then trying to slurp out their souls.” I swallowed past a lump. “Paige moved away because of you! I had to erase her memories with a spell so she wouldn’t have to relive the horrors you put her through.”
“Did you think you could stop me?” Esael’s features twisted with malice. “Prevent the Evocation Ritual by killing my disciplines and rescuing those humans?”
Despite all my snarkiness, my heart thundered. I glanced to the right and spotted a discarded rake about six feet away. A weapon. Deliberately slow, I inched toward it, and tried to look casual. I was brave, but not stupid.
“I’m not letting you open the Harrows, or hurt anyone else.”
“Such courageous words coming from someone who fears the dark.” He slid his hands behind him and paced within the shade of the overhanging branches. “The thought of spilling your blood just brings me this perverse amount of joy.”
“Guess the witty banter is taking a commercial break. We almost had a polite conversation, but then you had to go and spoil it with nasty threats.” I moved another step toward the rake resting on a pile of leaves.
He snickered. “You are no match for me, Thirteenth Daughter.”
“And you’re entitled to your very wrong opinion.”
Esael glanced at my fists, glowing with magick in vivid blues and purples. I tried to hold onto the mystical energy, though it took lots of practice and concentration to keep it strong in my mental grasp.
“You act tough, like the heroine of your own short life, but you must realize that most of your power is rooted in darkness. You must sense its malignant influence. We are kindred now. We share blood—a bond.”
My scalp prickled with sweat, and that demonic essence within me twitched at his words.
Another step closer to the rake. “Nah-uh.”
“You are still in denial.”
I shuffled over the dirt and leaves. The rake only two feet away. “Looks like.”
Esael smirked. “We should take this inside. Privacy and all that.”
Turning into a gust of shadowy vapors, Esael flew into the manor through an open window, the wards crackling and sparking. He was right about one thing. There wasn’t much I could do to seriously hurt him with my feeble magick, but I had to try. Leaving the rake behind, I gave chase.
Vanquishing an upper-level demon was a lot harder than I’d first thought. Cool TV series like Supernatural usually made killing paranormals look easy, with only a few words in Latin and a drawing of an ancient symbol on the floor and—poof!—demon be gone. In real-life, sending a powerful demon back into the Underworld was a whole lot trickier.
I stepped inside the mansion, the foyer as big and fancy as any five-star hotel. The wood floors gleamed in the sunshine spilling through the stained glass. A baroque staircase on the right ended at a rotunda overlooking the first-floor. I scanned the rooms jutting from the main lobby. At the end of the foyer was a corridor that led to the library with the spellbooks and Evans, and I had to protect both.
Noises coming from a parlor on the left had me rushing in that direction. I felt like I should be quieter, but he knew I would follow. Knew I would feel compelled to stop whatever wickedness he was planning.
My footsteps sounded too loud on the hardwood floor. Pausing at the closed door, my hand felt too sweaty on the doorknob. I pushed open the door, the hinges creaking loudly. With a breath in and out, I stepped inside....
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