Book 17: Summer Home

Posey

“Oh, my Goddess.” Willow’s sleek dark brown hair fans around her face as she pulls her baby blue convertible to a screeching halt, the smell of burning rubber scorching my nostrils. She pushes her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose and gasps as the shadow of a massive, three-story stone house from a begotten era swallows us whole, stained glass windows glaring down at us, four spires twisting to the clouds and nearly blocking the sun. “This is where we’re staying? How old is this place?”

“That’s a very good question. Probably ancient. Everything this size in Veiled Valley is–”

Her door slams shut. She’s already out of the car and falling into the shadow of the–well, I suppose it’s a castle. A miniature castle, probably the home of some long-dead aristocrat or Alpha that built it during the time of the original Firestone Witches. Two win