If you enjoyed Shadowhunters, True Blood, and Vampire Diaries, you’ll love this YA urban fantasy!
Click here to join Sierra on a heart-pounding ride!
Dark Legacy is a completed 5 book series.
Dark Legacy Excerpt
Sierra Reeves had expected the day of her high school graduation and eighteenth birthday to be a joyful event. It signified the end of her overly protected and boring existence and marked the beginning of her actual life.
Yet, here she stood in line to accept her diploma, pulling at the ends of her chocolate-brown hair and feeling nervous instead of joyful. A layer of sweat coated her back, and her forehead itched underneath her graduation cap. She kept glancing back at the parents in the bleachers. The ceremony had started over half an hour ago, and Dad was still a no-show, the seat next to Gran unoccupied. Despite being in her seventies, Gran Waldeburg had a vitality about her that many teenagers lacked. Instead of sitting at home and knitting or complaining about modern life, she stayed active by gardening, cooking, cycling, and acquiring unusual clothing. Today she wore a floor-length, paisley dress with bell sleeves adorned by half a dozen multicolored necklaces, making her stand out like a beacon in the mass of neutral suits. Normally, Sierra didn’t mind Gran’s eccentric style, but today she wished Gran would’ve gone with something more subdued.
Noticing Sierra’s stare, Gran arched an eyebrow, which matched her unruly winter-white curls. Sierra whipped her head back, redirecting her attention to the podium. One after another, the students accepted their diplomas and shook hands with the principal.
“Fifteen more to go, and then it’s our turn,” Tammy said.
The minuscule size of Manchester, Vermont and their high school resulted in Tammy Scott standing next to Sierra Reeves. So far, this was the only good thing about June eighth.
Tammy tapped Sierra’s shoulder. “Did you ask about Burlington?”
“Yes. The answer is still the same. I can’t go.” Sierra chewed on her lip.
“Why not? It’s only two and a half hours away, and you’re eighteen now. She can’t tell you what to do!”
In front of Sierra, Becky whirled around, the golden tassel on her cobalt cap swinging, and put a finger to her lips. Tammy smiled sweetly at her, then jabbed Sierra. “It’s just for the weekend. You deserve to celebrate graduation and your birthday.”
Sierra sighed. “I tried everything. Gran won’t budge. You know I want to go.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“This time is different. She’s not just being overprotective. Dad’s coming back from business. He wants to spend the weekend with me.”
“I see. And where was he for your last five birthdays?”
Sierra pressed her lips together until her molars touched. Tammy’s brown eyes turned apologetic, and she tried to reach out. Sierra leaned away. Gran always said, “You can’t take back words.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
Sierra nodded, acknowledging the apology. “It’s our turn.” She made her way to the podium, taking care not to slip on the shiny, parquet floor in her three-inch black pumps. Her nerve endings grew tauter with each step. She swallowed, trying to get some moisture into her mouth. Her gaze swiped one last time over the parents in the bleachers to confirm that the seat next to Gran was still empty. Despite his promises, Dad hadn’t made it after all.
Principal Carr smiled encouragingly. A tall and put-together woman, her graphite pantsuit fit her to a T. Sierra swallowed hard. With all eyes on her, and while her dad was missing, she wanted to get this over with. The principal said words of congratulation. Their exact meaning escaped Sierra, the syllables melting into white noise. Finally, the principal reached for the diploma. Eager, Sierra extended her hand, and then the strangest of things happened. The diploma floated into her palm.
It didn’t fall into her palm. It wasn’t blown into her hand.
No. It floated. As if it had obeyed her will.
The principle gave a nervous laugh. Sierra blinked in rapid succession and then hurried from the podium, furtively glancing at the students and parents surrounding her. No one seemed to have noticed. She shook her head. Of course not, objects didn’t just up and fly through the air. She must’ve imagined it. Nerves.
Then she noticed the frown on Gran’s face and something else. Gran’s whole body was outlined in a green hue. Okay, now she really had lost it. Sierra sat down in her seat and kept her gaze trained on the podium, not daring to sneak another peek at Gran.
Fortunately, Tammy didn’t speak or try otherwise to engage Sierra until the end of the ceremony, giving her plenty of opportunity to convince herself that the stress of the day was responsible for the mirages. Take deep breaths. Try to relax. How did Gran’s technique work again? Ah, yes. My breath travels from the top of my head to my toes. Oxygen to the brain, neck muscles soft and pliable, unknotted belly, calmness in my feet.
“Are we still on for six?”
“Hmm?” Sierra turned to Tammy to discover the graduation ceremony was over and everyone was clearing out. “Sorry, yes, of course. Do you want me to bring something?”
“As if you could sneak anything past your Gran.” Tammy chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ve stashed away a cherry vodka bottle. Plenty for the two of us until we get to Rick’s party. Your job is to secure a curfew past midnight.”
Sierra sighed. “I can’t make any promises. It depends—”
“On your dad and Gran. Yeah, I know.”
“I’m glad to hear you understand,” Gran said in a calm yet firm voice, joining them.
Tammy jerked. Recovering quickly, she said, “Of course, Mrs. Reeves.”
Sierra pushed her lips together, suppressing a smile. As much as Tammy enjoyed giving advice to others on how to stand up to authority, she didn’t adhere to it herself.
“We must go.” Gran placed her hand on Sierra’s arm. The green glow was still there.
“What do you mean? There are drinks and paninis outside.” Sierra pointed toward the hall.
“I’m sorry. We can’t stay.”
“Umm, I’ll catch you later,” Tammy said. She pointed to her cell and mouthed, “Text me.”
“What’s going on?” Sierra asked.
“I’ll tell you once we’re on our way.” The urgency in Gran’s voice and in her face temporarily drowned Sierra’s further protests.
She pushed past her classmates, praying no one noticed her leaving early. She swallowed hard when her gaze fell on Ben and a raven-haired girl. Two months had passed. She should be fine. But she wasn’t. Ben had been the one to break it off after two years, saying it would be too hard for them to make it work—what with him going to college in Boston, while she remained in Vermont. Now it looked as if distance hadn’t been his only motive.
“Go to the passenger side. I’m driving,” Gran instructed.
Deciding to pick her battles, Sierra acquiesced. She buckled up, her pulse accelerating. “What’s going on? You’re freaking me out!”
Gran’s veiny hands, bedecked with chunky antique rings quivered. “You’ve already noticed the changes, haven’t you? I’ll explain everything in a bit—”
“What is it?” Did it have to do with Dad? Panic unfurled in Sierra. What if something bad had happened, preventing Dad from attending her graduation? An accident? A heart attack? Dad ran daily. He was in good shape. But diseases struck even healthy people…so did drunk drivers. No, it couldn’t be. Dad was fine, most likely delayed by an important last-minute meeting. At least that’s what Sierra kept telling herself during the short drive it took to reach their home.
“You have ten minutes to pack. Bring only necessities. I’ll handle the passports and other documents. I promise I’ll explain everything. Please be patient.” Gran killed the engine and made her way down the gravel leading to their two-story brick house.
The last time Gran had used her “I’m very serious” voice was when a ten-year-old Sierra had swiped painting supplies from a sto
re without paying.
Whatever was going on now, it was serious. Her pulse accelerated, drumming loudly, until it was all she could hear. How bad could it be? Was Dad alone in a hospital somewhere? Was he in critical condition?
She needed to hurry. Rushing up the wooden stairs, she felt nausea at the scent of cinnamon and applesauce, which normally calmed her. She breathed through her mouth and forced herself to keep moving. From underneath her metal-framed bed, she pulled out a suitcase and threw in clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, and her sketchbook before forcing the zipper shut. About to leave the room, she realized she didn’t have her mother’s bracelet, which she had misplaced the day before.
“Hurry up!” Gran called.
“Just a second.” Sierra darted around the room, digging through drawers. Nothing. She threw the cerulean cover back, hoping to find the bracelet in her bed. Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t lose the only heirloom she had from her deceased mother.
Something crunched below her high heel; she kneeled to retrieve it, relieved to find the bracelet. Strange…she could’ve sworn it hadn’t been there a second ago. Pressed for time, she hauled her suitcase up and hurried down the stairs.
While Gran locked the house and started the Chevy, sickening scenarios raced through Sierra’s mind. Only a horrific event would’ve made Gran pull Sierra out of her graduation celebration.
The not knowing drove Sierra insane. In a whisper, she asked, “What is it? Did Dad get in an accident?”
“Sierra, your father is dead.”
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Cursed Academy by Holly Hook
The Complete Cursed Academy Series is now here as a single omnibus! Binge on six full academy novels for one low price!
Giselle Bowman never thought she'd be descended from a Greek god...or a monster.
Klutzes and small-town girls don't find out they're descended from the Greek gods. They don't get taken to Olympian Academy to learn to hone their godlike powers. But when Giselle accidentally summons a void that almost eats her friend, it's done. Except she doesn't get sorted into Olympian, but to Cursed Academy, where the descendants of dark gods and the monsters from Greek mythology learn to serve their betters.
And that's just the start. Giselle 1.) has a new type of magic never seen before and 2.) gets to deal with an epic jerk, Ronin, from Olympian Academy next door. He's a descendant of Zeus, totally hot, and very out of her league.
Giselle quickly learns her void-summoning powers aren't normal and that an unknown enemy--perhaps someone in Cursed Academy already--seeks to use her for a plan so vile, it threatens the gods and the modern world. With nowhere else to turn, Giselle must seek help from Ronin, who might have a clue on what she is. If only he'd stop making fun of her every time she trips over her shoelaces.
Is Giselle ready to learn the terrifying truth about herself and her powers?
Click here to find out.
Cursed Academy Excerpt
The messenger stood against the row of lockers as if he belonged there.
Which he did not. Dressed in a white toga uniform--a sure sign he was a student of Olympian Academy--he kept his arms folded over his muscular chest and stared straight ahead as I rounded the corner and spotted him for the first time.
A messenger. In Colton Corners High School, also known as BF Nowhere.
My heart leapt into my chest and I froze, art supplies clinking in my pack. He was the only guy in the hallway, it being after school, and my presence didn't turn his head. Figured. The guy must be a year or two older than me at the most, maybe a senior, with dark hair and a very stoic expression. He looked as if someone had brought a Greek statue to life. With clothing, of course.
I caught my breath. The guy was hot. That was probably why he wasn't looking at me. And some geeky, clumsy art girl wouldn't find out she was a god descendant headed to the Academy anytime soon. I couldn't even tie my shoes right.
But logic flew out the window and a tingle swept over me.
Messengers could sense magic in people and there were only eight of us in the After School Art Geeks Club. Yeah, we admitted our geekiness, and the others must have made it to the meeting room already. That made me the late one, as usual. Therefore--
"H...hey," I forced, throat dry. "Are you looking for someone?" My heart raced. What was I doing? Most god descendants--people whose bloodlines went centuries back to the Greek deities themselves--seemed to be celebrities' and politicians' kids. They didn't come rust belt towns lacking a single traffic light.
The messenger, shockingly enough, snapped his gaze to me.
I about fainted, swaying on my feet. He had the most perfect cheekbones and a powerful chin. Yeah, he was chiseled. Probably a descendant of Hermes, the messenger god. Made sense for a messenger.
"I thought I was," he said with a hint of disgust. Even so, the guy's voice was deep, resonant, and melt-worthy. "Been standing here for an hour waiting for something to happen. The oracle had to have screwed up. And I'm not even old enough to visit the bar." He punctuated his sentence with a shrug.
Jerk. I backed off as if slapped, disappointment deflating the hope building in my chest. Of course, hope wasn't logical either. Messengers didn't just find people to take to Olympian Academy, where they could learn to hone their godlike powers.
There was the other place, too.
And that got my heart pumping adrenaline. Maybe I should just walk away. Yes, Giselle. Just leave. But instead, I opened my mouth again. "What do you mean, you don't know yet?"
"I mean that I don't know yet," he repeated. "Let me recite to you the meaning of each word. 'I' refers to myself, and 'don't' is a contraction of 'do not'--"
Okay, he was going from a Level 3 Jerk to raging asshole. "I realize. Can't messengers sense when someone's magic awakens?"
The guy grinned at me but there was nothing nice in it. "We can. But there's no magic here."
Ouch. Major ouch. Pain constricted the back of my throat. Stupid hope. Dumb imagination. I wanted to tell him off but messing with a god descendant was never a good idea. They taught you that in the first grade. People learned that after a powerful earthquake in Greece woke the gods twenty-five years ago, after they had been sleeping for millennia. Then their presence on Earth accidentally woke a bunch of latent powers in people who turned out to have the gods or some ancient monsters in their family trees.
"There you are." A pair of hands seized my shoulders from behind and squeezed, almost to the point of pain. "Who's this guy?"
"Randy," I said, struggling to pull out of his grasp. "I didn't hear you coming up behind me."
"Maybe you should pay attention?" the messenger asked. "It helps when you're, say, crossing the street. Of course, who could resist a hot bod like this?" He flexed his muscles.
And Randy tightened his grip on my shoulders.
"Randy!" I whirled to face him, pulling out of his grasp. Randy forced a grin as he stuffed his hands in his permanently grass-stained jeans. He worked in his parents' landscaping business whenever he wasn't in school and he was going to landscape until the day he died, damn it. Besides art, it was his favorite conversation topic. We'd gone out to school dances a couple of times and he even kissed me at the last one. His lips felt like rubber.
"What you hanging out with this guy for?" he asked, butting me playfully with his chest. A few grass clippings hugged his plaid shirt.
Behind Randy, the messenger stayed silent. He watched my friend with intent and I could no longer read his expression.
"He was just standing here?" I said, which was the truth.
Randy snorted. "Well, he's in the wrong school. Come on. We're late." He nudged me with his chest again. As he did, I felt all his muscles tensing.
"Randy!" His words crushed what little hope I had of getting out of this town. But he was right. The oracle who sent him must have made an error. It didn't matter that I didn't know my parents and the mystery always beckoned. And not being the chosen wasn't necessarily a
bad thing.
Not everyone with magic came from the gods. Some came from the ancient monsters. And Cursed Academy existed to take them.
I glanced back at the messenger, against all that made sense.
He was staring after us. But once he caught me looking, he resumed observing the wall.
"Keep looking straight ahead," Randy ordered, putting his hand on my head and manually turning it.
"What am I? Two?" I held back the urge to elbow him. Didn't he see how mind blowing a messenger just being here was? Randy never acted like this.
"It's all a mistake." Randy playfully pushed me down to the main art room, where six other people already sat. Yep. Late. People shifted on their stools as my best friend, Carmen, rose from hers and shuffled over just as Randy released me.
"Is he still there?" she whispered, leaning really close to me.
"The messenger?"
Carmen slapped her hands over her purple lips and squealed. She ran back to the other members of the Junior Art Club, all girls, and slapped her hands down on the table. "It's one of us. It has to be."
"Really?" Jasmine asked, letting a marker roll across the table.
Belle looked between Donnae and Serena. "Well, if he hasn't left yet, what other explanation is there?"
"Calm it down, ladies," Randy said, maintaining his place between me and the door. "He's not here for any of us. Let's get to business. I'm running this meeting today."
"Business? Are you sure you're an art geek?" Carmen asked. She pulled at her striped sleeve with impatience.
"Someone stole the real Randy and replaced him today," I said. A flare of anger flashed through me like a dark, lashing snake, and that didn't happen often. Hint, hint, Randy. Lighten up.
Randy held up his hand, unmoving. "We should really start the meeting. By the time we're done, he'll be gone. I guarantee you all. We need to figure out what the banner is going to look like. We have only a month."
The Nocturnal and Fae Prison Academy Boxset [A Complete Paranormal and Fantasy Series Boxset] Page 120
