By C. N. Crawford
As Fiona attempts to choose up the items of her shattered existence, she and Tobias take safeguard in a classmate’s Southern mansion. The plan may be simple—finish out junior yr within the security of an previous Virginia plantation.
But Fiona can’t allow issues lie. She’s confident the plantation belongs to a sinister witch-hunting cult. Worse, Tobias is obviously hiding a dismal mystery of his personal. And if he weren’t having a look so annoyingly beautiful, perhaps Fiona may well specialize in her investigations lengthy sufficient to determine every little thing out.
As Fiona digs deeper into the Ranulf's previous, she learns a depressing fact that shocks her to her center. however it isn't in simple terms the Ranulfs who've anything to conceal. because the witch-hunting cult closes in, Fiona is pressured to decide on who she relatively trusts prior to she loses each person she cares approximately.
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Additional resources for A Witch's Feast (The Memento Mori Series, Book 2)
The grass seemed too much like a rug awaiting footsteps, to be trampled with hasty incidents. The rhythm of growth too slow, the falling of the leaves too tranquil. Happiness was an absence of fever. The garden was feverless and without tension to match her tensions. She could not unite or commune with the plants, the languor, the peace. It was all contrary to her inward pulse. Not one pulsation of the garden corresponded to her inner pulsation which was more like a drum beating feverish time. Within her the leaves did not wait for autumn, but were torn off prematurely by unexpected sorrows.
Donald had a slender body, like an Egyptian boy. Dark hair wild like that of a child who had been running. At momentshe extreme softness of his gestures made him appear small, at others when he stood stylized and pure in line, erect, he seemed tall and firm. His eyes were large and entranced, and he talked flowingly like a medium. His eyelids fell heavily over his eyes like a woman’s, with a sweep of the eyelashes. He had a small straight nose, small ears, and strong boyish hands. When Michael left for cigarettes they looked at each other, and immediately Donald ceased to be a woman.
What I find in this devious way has a taste like no other object overtly obtained. Like the taste of those dim and secret afternoons of our childhood when we performed forbidden acts with great anxiety and terror of punishment. The exaltation of danger, I’m used to it now, the fever of remorse. This society which condemns me…do you know how I am revenging myself? I am seducing each one of its members slowly, one by one…” He talked softly and exultantly, choosing the silkiest words, not disguising his dream of triumphing over all those who had dared to forbid certain acts, and certain forms of love.