Something a little different for you today, I have an excerpt from Abracadabra for you to read.
Abracadabra
Evanne Hardin Gray
In the spirit of Practical Magic and First Frost, a modern-day magic folk tale weaves a fantasy of love, secrets, spellbooks, and family bonds into evocative prose ….
It’s common knowledge in Duran Hill that some women in the Kinley family have certain gifts … and certain curses … running through their bloodlines. But for three sisters in all but name — Rachel, Juliette, and their cousin Sylvia — the ties that bind them close as ivy throughout their childhood are pulled apart in adolescence when both the gift and curse of that power is revealed between them.
Since that fateful incident, sensible Juliette has tailored a perfect and perfectly-ordinary life which unravels after she marries — and loses — the love of her life. Sylvia, drawn to the dark side, sets up a shop that caters to all the mystical powers the latter generations of the Kinley family shunned. And Rachel, the wild child, in whom its magic seems to create a charmed life, is a carefree wanderer who finds herself suddenly drawn home again.
Her arrival will stir old rivalries and test forgotten bonds in the brief span of a few weeks. But when an old friend in desperate trouble seeks her out, she will impulsively unleash the dangerous secret behind their power: one which has lain forgotten in the Kinley house for two generations.
From the Siren’s song of a dead man’s violin to a jar full of harmless-looking buttons, nothing under the shadow of the family’s roof is what it seems — nothing in their bloodline is safe from the dangerous past.
For Juliette, it brings a test of whether love that has withered can bloom again. For Sylvia, a question of whether a dangerous mistake can only be endured until it destroys you. And for Rachel, the choice is the price between the future of the souls she loves most in life and a powerful force that both makes her the enigma she is — and makes to destroy her like embers caught in a firewind.
Against the backdrop of Southern charm, Scottish superstitions, and bewitching romance, ABRACADABRA casts a spell which cannot be undone, from the ache of lost love to the familial links between souls which go as deep as blood and bone.
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Thank you for this chance to share an extract of my new novel Abracadabra with the lovely readers at everywhere and nowhere! It’s a spooky, atmospheric read perfect for autumn. The following scene introduces the eccentric medium who is called in to consult when our story’s heroines find themselves dealing with the consequences of a spell gone wrong.
Blanche Devoe is waiting on the porch, her white hair beneath a green felt cloche hat, a light green cardigan sweater in the same shade open over her gingham dress. Her hands clutch an oversized handbag by its handle.
“Good afternoon,” Blanche says. “I trust this is the right house? My friend wants me to wave, if so. Otherwise she can’t drive away and very well leave me, can she?” She turns towards a car parked on the street outside the front gate, where a middle-age woman is visible behind the wheel.
“This would be it,” Juliette answers brightly, if nervously. “Come in, please.” Miss Devoe waves and the car drives on towards Springfield. She crosses the threshold, her bag bumping faintly against her side.
“What a lovely home,” she says. Her gaze roves slowly, taking in the grand light fixture of the entryway, the dark walnut floors and banisters, the faded carpets and wallpapers which had once been so elegant. “You must be very proud. Many years in your family?”
“Generations,” answers Juliette. “My name is —”
“Ah, ah. No names yet, dear. After today, you may tell me.” Nevertheless, the medium shakes her hand.
They enter the living room now, where everyone else is seated in silence. Angela’s fingers are nervously attempting to unravel the doily draped over the velvet armchair; Rachel is staring gloomily at a large framed portrait of Elzia Kinley, looking stiff and haughty in the elaborate half-drawn, half-photograph fashion of 1800s portraiture.
“Blanche Devoe is here,” announces Juliette, as if they didn’t already know. Blanche smiles.
“Is this everyone?” she asks, as though she is surprised, expecting something or someone else.
“Yes,” Juliette answers. “Yes, this is all of us. All of us concerned with the haunting, I mean.”
“Hmm,” says Blanche. She sounds disappointed. “Very well, then. Shall I look around?”
Evanne Hardin Gray has spent most of her adulthood (and part of her childhood) writing novels, short stories, and screenplays. She has family roots in both New England and the South, which is where she currently writes (sometimes as a ‘ghost’), gardens, and collects books and ideas for them.
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