City of Spells, the follow-up to Alexandra Christo’s gritty YA fantasy, Into the Crooked Place, finds the world on the brink of war and four unlikely allies facing sacrifices they had never imagined.
After the loss of Wesley and the horrifying reveal that Zekia is helping the Kingpin of her own free will, Tavia, Saxony, and Karam flee to Saxony’s home to rebuild their rebellion. Meanwhile, trapped in the Kingpin’s darkness, Wesley must fight against the deadly magic that invades his mind and find a way back to his friends before it’s too late.
As the Kingpin’s dark magic spreads and his army conquers Creije, these four unlikely friends have to decide just how far they’ll go—and how much they are willing to sacrifice—to win.
In the list of terrible things he’d done in his life—and Wesley liked to keep track of things like that—he was sure crying had never been one. He knew that memories were fickle, of course, but he trusted his mind to keep hold of important stuff like that.
Those were the things that needed to be remembered if he was going to hold a grudge properly, and if there was one thing Wesley Thornton Walcott did well, it was hold a grudge.
Wesley didn’t cry in the face of death.
He didn’t cry because he had only half a family—the half that gave him a house but not a home, that protected him but did not love him, that stared at him like he was something so very other in a realm of strange magic and monsters.
He didn’t cry when he crossed lines and burned bridges.
He didn’t cry when he threw away friendship for leadership.
And he didn’t cry when Zekia clawed through his mind, or when her shadow demon clawed through his body. They could try to break Wesley into a thousand pieces, but he wouldn’t give them that. He ’d fought his way up from the streets of Creije and there was no way he was going to go down with a fight.
“Fighting is hard,” Tavia said. “Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is just give in.” She sat beside Wesley in the cell, her grin sly as ever, while the low glow of night filtered from the cracked window, reflecting the sky in the pool of Wesley’s blood.
“Don’t you ever just want to give up?” she asked.
She shuffled closer to Wesley and squeezed his hand.
“It’s okay if you do.”
Wesley held on to the sound of her voice, like a cliff ’s edge, even though he knew it wasn’t really her voice at all.
He’d learned that by now.
He knew better.
He turned to Tavia and pushed a flick of black hair from her eyes in a way he had never dared to before. It was damp with sweat and clinging to her cheeks like seaweed, making her look young and restless.
“Get the hell out of my mind, kid,” he said.
And then he pushed Tavia’s head back so hard that it cracked against the surface of the cell wall. There wasn’t blood this time, but Wesley winced like there had been.
He heard a sigh and then Tavia’s newly limp body disappeared into smoke, and from across the room Zekia stepped out of the shadows.
“You’re getting quicker,” she said. “The first time it took you ages to figure it out.”
“Maybe you’re just getting sloppy.”
Though truth was, most of Zekia’s illusions had been perfect from the start, and if there was one thing she excelled at, it was making Wesley doubt every second of his life was real.
Still, she could never get Tavia right.
The first time she’d tried, Wesley was too out of it to see the small discrepancies, but it was the easiest thing to spot now. A conjured Tavia made Wesley feel cold and uncertain. She was always missing the bite to her words and the tilted smile that could never quite be replicated. She was missing the glint in her eye that told Wesley he was awful and she would forgive him for it anyway.
Zekia could try all she wanted, but she’d be hard-pressed to create an illusion as damn irritating and wonderful as the real thing.
“Want to give it another whirl?” Wesley asked. “I think I’ve still got some sanity left in me today.”
Zekia let out a great huff of breath, like she was frustrated that Wesley had stolen her favorite toy. Beside her, a shadow demon growled, its eyes like pure darkness.
It looked at Wesley in a way that said, Yes. Again. Let me taste the blood this time.
Alexandra Christo decided to write books when she was four and her teacher told her she couldn’t be a fairy. She has a BA in Creative Writing and works as a copywriter in London, both of which make her sound more grown up than she feels. When she’s not busy making up stories, she can be found buying far too many cushions and organizing food crawls all over the city. Alexandra currently lives in Hertfordshire with an abundance of cacti (because they’re the only plants she can keep alive).
Title: Just Curious Author: Ariella Talix Genre: LGBTQ+ Romance
Secrets, curiosity, and passion.
Fantasy becomes reality with little encouragement.
Willa Camden, successful author of steamy novels, becomes entwined with Jackson Mitchell, a brilliant billionaire, and his best friend Casey Melrose. Their love is shared equally, and Willa is not always in the middle.
Craving excitement, they embark on international adventures in the style befitting a billionaire.
Cyber threats, blackmail, and theft turn their world upside down. Their careers are jeopardized, and lives are in danger.
Fair warning: They curse a little and have sex a lot, so please don’t be shocked. Join them for a wild ride.
If you’re ready for a book that will have you on the edge of your seat and grabbing for a fan, this story is for you.
Ariella Talix is the nom de plume of a bestselling author who lives in America’s Heartland. Her goal is to preserve the dignity of family members who would rather not be associated publicly with a woman who writes such scandalous and stimulating novels. She’s not going to stop writing them though.
She loves her family, pets, great books, not-so-great books that still entertain, and art.
Born and raised near the beaches of southern California, Ariella Talix traveled the world extensively and then found her true home in the Midwest. She has a second-degree black belt in Karate and has been a professional artist for many years. Her work is displayed in countries all over the world.
A sudden brainstorm prompted the first of her novels, Make Believe, and since then the ideas just keep tumbling out like an avalanche.
Jeni has fully accepted her spiritual ability, and yet she’s unnerved by the apparition of Marielle, the ghost of a pioneer girl asking for help. As the ghost’s tragic love story unfolds in her dreams, Jeni’s resistance melts and she resolves to save the soul of Marielle’s lost love. When she discovers her own impulses cause Marielle to act uncharacteristically, Jeni believes she can change the past. Despite warnings against meddling with time, Jeni’s convinced she can save the soul of Marielle’s lover. Deep inside a dream and intent on her quest, Jeni is lured into a trap that binds her soul to Marielle’s. With no allies, no knowledge about crossing through time and with limited 18th century resources, Jeni is terrified: failure will leave her soul trapped in the past, or worse . . . lost in nowhere.
Ice spotted a nearby tree with a thick trunk. He headed for it, capturing Jeni’s hand and pulling her with him. He settled on the ground, knees bent, and patted the space in front of him. “Do they know why the river changed course?’
Accepting the invitation, Jeni scooted backward until her back touched his chest. He looped his arms around her and she sighed, melting against him. “They do now. The forests were cut down to feed the riverboats. It allowed massive erosion. Although,” she twisted her head so she could look up at him, “some people claimed it was a curse.”
Ice smirked. “Sure. Because it couldn’t have been their fault.”
“Exactly.” Sarcasm tinged her voice. “The legend of the curse is actually a tragic love story about… ” Again she looked up at Ice. “Are you ready for this?”
“Sure,” he said.
“A French girl and a Native American boy.”
“Like us.” He chuckled. “Do you know the entire legend?”
“I can give you the basics.” Jeni recounted the story, ending with, “So Amakapa swore that he and Marielle would be together again in the afterlife and that—” She broke off, sitting up so fast she nearly smacked her head into his chin. “Ice. Please tell me you see her this time,” she said in a low voice.
Ice searched the vista for a figure. “Where?”
“Across the road. Behind the fence, just to the left of where it’s leaning forward.” Her entire body was tense.
His eyes scoured the fence line, finding a spot where the wire bowed out as if something had pushed against it, or possibly fallen on top of it, but he saw no one.
“Do you see her?” Jeni’s voice faltered.
“No. Is it the same girl you saw before?”
“Oh, God.” With a strangled cry, Jeni clambered to her feet and dashed for the pathway.
Ice rushed after her. When she reached the trail, Jeni broke into a run, her face a white mask when she glanced over her shoulder. Ice swiveled his head to make his own cursory check, wondering if the figure Jeni saw had given chase. The path behind them appeared empty. He knew, however, something might be there. Something he couldn’t see. When Jeni broke out of the shadows and into the sunshine, she finally slowed, breathing hard.
Ice approached, placing a protective hand on her back while she bent over, hands on thighs, drawing in air. “What happened?”
She shook her head and straightened, hands over her face. “She…” Jeni sucked in a shuddering breath. “It looked like she was trying to speak to me.” She let her fingers trail down her cheeks, meeting his eyes with a haunted gaze.
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t hear anything,” Jeni said. “But I didn’t need to. I could read her lips clearly. She was saying ‘help me.'”
Having a love for witches and vampires before they were trendy, Barbara gravitates toward stories with supernatural elements both when she reads and when she writes. Although classified as young adult, her books are enjoyed by a wide audience–pre-teen through adult.
Barbara’s novel Thunderstone was awarded 2013 Book of the Year Finalist status by Forward Reviews and before it was published, Thunderstone was a quarter-finalist in the 2012 Amazon Breakout Novel Award contest, winning a review by Publisher’s Weekly.
When she’s not writing, Barbara works in a library where she’s tortured by all the books she has yet to read. She’s a cult fan of the movies Labyrinth and Nightmare Before Christmas and a fan of all things Tim Burton. Barbara lives in Royal Oak, Michigan with her husband, daughter and a cat that often acts like a dog.
