By Lizzy Ford
A college for Witchlings...
The final selection among gentle and Dark...
Where the cost of a mistake...is your soul.
Sixteen-year-old summer time doesn’t count on her new boarding institution to be any diverse than the remaining: a short lived remain, till her uncontrollable magic will get her thrown out back. In her brain, there’s no aspect in getting too pleasant with a person. that's, till she notices Decker, the boy who turns into the grasp of evening and hearth on his eighteenth birthday.
When she learns that this particular tuition has attracted others with magic of their blood, she is hopeful that this time round, issues will be diversified. along with, she can’t deny her curiosity in Decker, and while he rescues her one evening from the darkish forests of the Rocky Mountains, their connection is instant.
Yet a dating with Decker might turn out to be Summer’s downfall, forcing her to select from mild and darkish, lifestyles and dying, love – and their souls.
One selection. One soul. One cost.
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Additional resources for Dark Summer (The Witchling, Book 1)
The BMW had a satellite navigation system. Of course, that would be standard in a luxury car like this, but this one had risen out of the dashboard like something in a James Bond film, full-colour and with a high-definition screen. What was strange was that it seemed to have activated itself automatically. Neither of the boys had touched anything. “Put in our destination,” Harry commanded. “I don’t know our destination,” Jason said. ” Jason remembered that it was a town on the Suffolk coast. “Yeah.
They had parked in a narrow street, next to a shop selling lanterns, chairs, boxes and chessboards, all of which were hanging off the front wall and spilling onto the pavement. ” Charles Atchley demanded. “This is it,” the driver agreed with a smile. ” Charles whined. “It’s a riad,” his mother explained. ” The truth was that Charles Atchley had never wanted to go to Marrakech. It might be a holiday abroad, but from what he had heard, the city in Morocco would be hot and sweaty with no beaches, no McDonald’s, no amusement parks and nothing much to do at the hotel except sit and read.
Charles Atchley demanded. “This is it,” the driver agreed with a smile. ” Charles whined. “It’s a riad,” his mother explained. ” The truth was that Charles Atchley had never wanted to go to Marrakech. It might be a holiday abroad, but from what he had heard, the city in Morocco would be hot and sweaty with no beaches, no McDonald’s, no amusement parks and nothing much to do at the hotel except sit and read. And as he hated books, what was the point of that? Worse still, the food would be strange, the people would speak little or no English, there would be flies everywhere and he would have to spend hours either walking through ruins or struggling up the Atlas Mountains.