Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Young Adult/Teen
Type: Fiction
Pages: 265
Copyright: Sep. 21, 2018
ISBN-13: 9781732247505
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
A missing mother. A magical birthright. Can she uncover the secrets of her family legacy before the bloodline runs dry?
"The writing is descriptive and enjoyable... echoes of the Twilight series and Harry Potter, (though) the characters and scenario are wholly original...the author provides enough mystery and suspense to keep readers turning pages." -- The BookLife Prize
Sixteen-year-old Crystal Dylan thought magic only existed in storybooks. But everything changes when she finds out her long-departed mom isn’t dead: she was stolen away by the same power-hungry league now hunting her own enchanted blood. In search of answers, she must make sense of a hidden mystical realm and two mysterious protectors.
Victor is more than just the boy-next-door. As a shifter, he’s lost track of the many lives he’s led and the memories of his true self. But as he stands close to the beautiful Crystal, he can sense his past coming back into focus. So when dark forces threaten to drain Crystal’s powers, he may just have to risk an enchanted kiss that could save her life… or seal her fate.
With enemies closing in, Crystal must find her mom and uncover her magical destiny before her powers fall into the clutches of evil.
Blood Crescent is the first novel in the exhilarating Divine Series of YA paranormal fantasies. If you like hidden magical realms, fresh new takes on vampire lore, and heartfelt journeys of self-discovery, then you’ll love Stevie McCoy’s spellbinding coming-of-age tale.
Buy Blood Crescent to unlock a supernatural story today!
Excerpt
The shoe box was covered in newspaper clippings pasted on with Elmer’s Glue; we made it together the day I asked my father why I didn’t have a mother. Over time it was layered with so much history it was a hard cast, buried deeper the more events were added. It was used as a bookend, no one would know it had anything inside it, except if you picked it up and shook it. My father had been adding layers to the paperweight more recently for an entire year, one article at a time, but two years ago he told me to open it as he drove me to the bus station. That was the last time I ever saw him, alive.
“You remember the memory box we made together?” His face paler than usual. A bit of grey under his eyes and cheekbones. My father didn’t always look like a ghost; that was recent. He had been forgetful lately, and I figured food was one of those things he couldn’t remember either.
I used to think of him like an older version of Super Man, but now he looked like he’d been stuck in a cellar with kryptonite for the past few months. I knew what box he was talking about, but I didn’t remember putting anything in it myself. He was getting more frail by the moment.
“The papier-mâché box?”
“That’s the one,” he scratched behind his ears creating red streaks along the way.
I ignored the box he pointed to beside me and climbed over the middle console to be at his side, sitting on the front passenger seat. He smiled gently, saying not to worry, it was just eczema. It was hard not to believe him, when the lie was followed by a soft chuckle.
Several minutes passed in silence as he drove. Until his hands trembled and his back became stiff.
“Crystal.” Hard and strong, made in a science class out of sugar or salt, some boiling water, and a string. I had to be strong after what I’d seen, and for him, he needed me to be strong. He said my name through chattering teeth. Soft, in a hushed tone, soothing like a warm wind wrapping you up and promising you sweet nothings. But I wasn’t precious, as he believed I was, just an everyday human experiment. I remembered this moment, more than most, because it still tore at my insides.
“You’re the next in line. They’ll come for you if they know. I promised your mother that I’d keep you safe. Don’t let them know, don’t let anyone know.” My father’s face sunk deeper, and his eyes were wide in a frenzied turmoil. I wasn’t stupid, I knew he was losing his mind. But I was too naïve to know I was going to lose more than sanity. Maybe it was genetic, or maybe he wasn't that crazy after all, but my heart raced to meet his quick plea. Anxious, ready, and believing despite myself. Deep down I felt it in my bones, he was trying to protect me, and I wouldn’t let him down.
“They’re coming… I can’t remember your mother’s face anymore. I know they’re here… they’ll clean up everything. Me… even you. Only a matter of time,” he continued to ramble incoherently.
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