Possession

Book 2 in my Dark Ritual series is out today. Since it’s the SPOOCKTUCLAR month 0f Halloween and my books are YA Paranormal/Horror they are releasing the first three books in the series this month.

“After taking few deep breaths, I… still don’t feel better, in fact. That was terrible. And great. Colina would say: Terrific. I had to give this five stars, because, OK, I didn’t cry or anything, but! It. Was. So. Amazing. And disgusting, most of the time.” – Goodreads reviewer

possessionsmall

iBooks – http://apple.co/1G5Ep1I

Amazon – http://amzn.to/1NHcF5O

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Kobo – http://bit.ly/1LO9vNj

Check it out on Goodreads – http://bit.ly/1LaVlT2

Excerpt from Possession:

I stood paralyzed. Memories whipped across my mind: people in black robes rushing around the ballroom, screaming in fear and pain; Luke, his body crushed under the stone alter, his face ashen, his open eyes staring at me, lifeless. I remember trying to reach him, to heal him, but hands had grabbed at me and pulled me back.

Voices screamed, “Help us!”

Spirits in the here and now were screaming at me, startling me out of my memories. I was back in the present, staring down at Dean’s motionless body in the water. He’s drowning… I have to get him out!

“Luke!” I threw my hands into the tub, grabbing around his waist and trying to pull him up. He was too heavy. “No!” I cried out in frustration and changed position. I reached under the water again, and this time grabbed his right arm. I braced my feet against the tub and pulled. I strained with every bit of strength and, ever so slowly, his body began to move. I dragged him out of the water, inch by painful inch, until his upper half tilted over the edge of the tub and his weight carried him over and down onto the floor.

I knelt over him. His eyes looked glazed and dead. There was no breath coming from his lips. I was once again frozen by fear, trying desperately to remember what I should do.

A cool breeze brushed across my cheek. “CPR…” a voice whispered in my ear.

I leaned forward and put my lips on his. I breathed once, twice. His lungs inflated with each of my breaths. I put my head down against his chest. There was no heartbeat. “Come on, Luke! Come back!” I crossed my hands one on top of the other and brought them down hard against his chest. I pushed again and again. I can’t remember how many times to push before breathing into him again. I stopped my frantic compressions and took a deep breath, put my lips against his, and blew.

I don’t know how long it went on. Every ounce of my being concentrated on doing this one task. My life narrowed and became nothing but pushing and breathing.

Walter had warned me—I had one shot at bringing Luke back. He’d told me that if I used this spell, if I forced Luke’s spirit into the comatose boy, I was messing with the very laws of nature. To do it once was taking a risk. Who knew if Luke would be the same when he came back? The time spent in between, the pain spirits felt over the loss of life, the loss of loved ones, the suffering they took with them, unresolved issues from their lives, tasks left undone, regrets—all these things could change a person, turn them, make them different.

But Luke came back the same. He’s the same guy I fell for.

Walter warned me that if for some reason Luke couldn’t stay inside Dean—if Dean forced his spirit out and I tried the spell again—there was a chance Luke’s spirit wouldn’t come back, at least not the same. Not the second time.

I pushed the thought away. I refused to give up. I pushed, I breathed. Time stood still.

And then suddenly, he coughed. It was a beautiful sound. I knelt back, and tears of joy streamed down my face. He’s alive. Luke is still here, with me.

“Luke!”

His eyes opened. He was alive and breathing, but then he moaned and turned his head, reaching out to me. I fell back in shock.

It wasn’t Luke I saw in the eyes that were now open and looking directly at me.

Blue eyes stared at me as his mouth opened and a voice croaked out. “Colina? Where am I?”

It wasn’t Luke’s voice.

“Who are you?” I whispered, afraid to hear the answer.

“Dean. My name is Dean.”

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