YA Paranormal Mystery with a Horror Twist. Status: Drafting

Blurb + Excerpt


Unlike her best friend, sixteen-year-old Jordan Duchamp does not believe in magic. It simply doesn’t exist. So she’s only humoring her best friend when they cast a spell to allow Jordan to say goodbye to her granny, who passed away last summer. However, spells found on the internet are bound not to work. At least they don’t think it did…

But when students start turning up dead, the truth comes out. Sydney’s spell wasn’t from Google. It’s from her great-great, well, you get the point, granny’s spell book that she buried before she was burnt at the stake during the Salem Witch Trials. And instead of bringing back Jordan’s granny, they accidentally unleashed a revenge-bent spirit who was a student at their boarding school years ago, until she vanished.

Now Jordan and Sydney, with the help of hot, loner boy, Harrison, who claims to be a descendant of a long line of Louisiana ghost hunters, must uncover what really happened on the night their mystery girl disappeared and lay her spirit to rest. Before the hunters become the haunted and their ghost proves, once and for all…

Revenge is a dish best served… DEAD.

Excerpt from Chapter One — FOR (A) SEANCE’S SAKE

There are only two types of students who break curfew, and risk getting caught, at St. Anthony’s Prep. The dumb, those who don’t know that getting on Headmistress Marceaux’s bad side is practically a death sentence. And, in the words of my best friend, Syd, “Those who have no fucks left to give.” Ever since she transferred here in the middle of last school year, it’s been obvious what type she is, but as for me, well, I’ve never considered myself dumb, until now.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask looking down at Syd’s salt circle that looks more like a lumpy oval scattered on top of a black, plastic bag in the middle of my room. Which is usually pristine but is now littered with her “tools of trade.” Three candles are evenly spaced across my dresser, dripping wax onto the mahogany wood and singing the mirror behind them. On the matching nightstand that bumps against my bed is a wooden-hilted knife whose blade is so rusty it screams tetanus. And the floor, where not covered by the bag, has bits of salt spread across the wood from where Syd got a little shake happy.

“Yes.” She grabs a pack of matches and another candle, which she places in the middle of the circle. She then tries three times to light a match, only successful after the fourth try. If this place burns down, I’m done for and Syd is screwed. Senator’s daughter or not, there’s only so many times her mom can bribe her into one of the best schools in the nation.

She must see the worry written over my face for she says, “Don’t chicken out now.” She sucks on her finger whose nail is black from where the match burnt it. “We’re doing this for you, remember?” Then she grabs the knife off my nightstand and grips the hilt so hard the whites of her knuckles show. How did she even get that thing in the school? Our room checks are meticulous.

As if reading my mind she laughs. “Where there’s a will there’s a way.” She smirks to herself. “Being a senator’s daughter has its perks.” Which means she probably bribed someone. Her and her mom have more in common that she cares to admit. “Hand.” She slides a ceramic bowl from where she’d pushed it under my bed and reaches to grab my hand with her knife-free one.

“No way.” I snatch my hand back predicting what she’s about to do. “Are you crazy?”

Still gripping the hilt, she places both hands on her hips. “You said you would give anything to get to say goodbye to your granny. Right?” She doesn’t give me the chance to answer. “Well, anything is a drop of your blood.” She nudges her smartphone with her knee. “The spell requires it.”

“Yeah, but you got this spell from Google.” I shake my head in disbelief. When she snuck into my dorm an hour ago dressed in all black and carrying a satchel, saying she’d found the solution to my problem. I thought she was joking. I should’ve known better. Syd has what one could call a mild obsession with the occult, in other words, she think she’s a witch. “Why can’t we use a Ouija board? Isn’t that what those are for?”

She gasps in mock disgust. “I’m pretty sure my ancestor is rolling in her grave.” By ancestor she can only mean the one who was burnt at the stake during the Salem Witch Trials. Aka the reason Syd believes she’s a witch. “You’ve been watching way too many horror flicks,” she says. “Those things don’t work.”

“Oh, and your Google spell does?”

“Stop being such a wuss.” She thrusts the knife towards me hilt first. “Humor me.” Her eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint.

I take the knife from her, shaking my head all the while. There’s no stopping her once she gets in her “I’m a badass witch” mode. After all this just a silly spell. What could go wrong?

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