Good Sunday morning to you!
This week, we would like to share with you The Wolf's Pewter Witch. We had to make a slight change on book order, due to somethings standing out in Darkness Rises. Never fear though, His Fallen Clockwork Angel will still be coming soon. Emmitt and Libby's story is far too important to be kept down for long.
In the meantime, if you haven't read TL's excerpt, it would be a good idea to head there first, then come back here for mine. Click on her name above to see what she has in store for you. Then, head back over here to enjoy my excerpt as well. And, if you haven't picked up your copy of London Calling, do it now, so you can follow along with our Dreadfuls series.
Hints of it and the person who casted the spell remained, faintly. All witches left some sort of marker when casting a spell and witches associated with Covens often had addition markers. Her sensed told her this was the work of an individual.
Softly she chanted a spell, watching as the markers showed themselves to her.
The blue aurora trail told her it was a male.
“Do you sense anything,” Ezra asked once he was by her side.
“All I sense is whoever cast this specific spell was a male.” Titling her head to the side, Clara continued to read the auroras surrounding the entrance. “Not a wizard or warlock,” she said knowing the male who cast the spell was powerful, just not as powerful of the most powerful male witches.
Traces of the lingering spell seemed almost familiar to her, reminding her of Granmé Marie.
Impossible, since granmé had never been to Europe and had passed almost six years ago.
Ezra walked away from her, moving through the great white stone pillars of Aspley Gate and crouched down, inspecting the dirt road.
She finally saw it, saw who was responsible for the spell and it was someone known to her.
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