By Alyxandra Harvey
Lucy's cousin Christabel has come to dwell in Violet Hill, and adjusting to the adaptation among lifestyles in a small mountain city and her domestic within the urban is tough. the stern curfew that Lucy's mom and dad implement is difficult to admire. without doubt whatever rather harmful could not potentially take place during this tiny city. yet Christabel starts off to note a few mysterious happenings, and it sort of feels like Lucy, her boyfriend Nicholas and his brother Connor are all in on a mystery that Christabel does not comprehend - person who turns out lethal critical. even supposing she will not admit it, Christabel would really like to be in on any mystery with Connor Drake. while Christabel is abducted through the ruthless Hel-Blar vampires, Lucy and Connor eventually fill her in on all of the undead drama. jointly, they have to have the option to stamp out the Hel-Blar for sturdy.
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I love old books best of all, with their wordiness and intricate descriptions of gas lamps and pickpockets. I like historical fiction and poetry too. Not those trendy vampire books though; they just get on my nerves. But Bram Stoker’s Dracula’s all right. Jane Eyre is my favorite book of all time. And I’ve been cultivating a very satisfying literary crush on the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. I love that his wife, Mary Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein, kept his heart after he died in a handkerchief on the mantel and fought with fellow poet Byron over who should get to keep it.
And then our secret would have been out. It was just easier if I stayed home. And I didn’t usually think about this stuff. I just did what needed doing and got good grades so no teachers or social workers would notice us. Maybe I hadn’t been to the mountains in a few years, but I didn’t believe for one minute that Violet Hill was so overrun with crime that I’d be in danger. As if there were a lot of hippie gangs roaming the streets, wearing hemp clothing and pushing organic fruit smoothies on unsuspecting bystanders.
Which only partly explained why my life seemed to resemble a soap opera lately, and not even the sci-fi space opera type, which might have been cool. The black-haired stranger murmured something in Solange’s ear before walking away. We still hadn’t glimpsed his face, but we knew he was a vampire. He’d moved to block Solange faster than any human could have. ” Quinn asked as she approached us. For all his wild oats, Quinn has a puritanical streak when it comes to our sister. We all do. ” I demanded.