A Witch's Feast (The Memento Mori Witch Trilogy Book 2)
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"There are new rules governing the country--namely, no magic. But Fiona Forzese has never been good with rules."
As Fiona tries to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, she and Tobias take shelter in a classmate’s Southern mansion. The plan should be simple—finish out junior year in the safety of an old Virginia plantation.
But Fiona can’t let things lie. She’s convinced the plantation belongs to a sinister witch-hunting cult. Worse, Tobias is clearly hiding a dark secret of his own. And if he weren’t looking so annoyingly attractive, maybe Fiona could focus on her investigations long enough to figure everything out.
As Fiona digs deeper into the Ranulf's past, she learns a dark truth that shocks her to her core. But it isn't only the Ranulfs who have something to hide. As the witch-hunting cult closes in, Fiona is forced to choose who she really trusts before she loses everyone she cares about.
The Memento Mori Witch Series
Book 1: THE WITCHING ELM
Book 2: A WITCH'S FEAST
blossomed on her back as she rose into the air. In moments, her agonized body felt weightless. She circled the room. As her throat emitted high-pitched squeaks, the space transformed, its crevices and protrusions now wrapped in ultrasonic waves. Mariana’s chest rose and fell in sleep, and a mosquito wavered near the ceiling. The clock’s ticking was almost deafening. She darted through the window after Byron, the night air exhilarating on her wings. She swooped over the gardens, her heart
remains of his herbal tea, inhaling the scent of chamomile and hawthorn. Steam from his cup clouded his window. His father had often grown angry when he spent too much time admiring the sunlight, and Jack would pay for it with the skin off his back. After all, idleness and time-wasting were sins. He turned, leaning against the window and pulling out his golden pocket watch to examine its etched surface. He had all the time he needed now. Still, he couldn’t escape the feeling that someone was
watching him. Probably a relic of my early days. As he took a final sip of tea, he glanced at his new companion, Alexandria. She sat hunched over her laptop on his dusty green sofa. Her wavy hair and heart-shaped face reminded him of Fiona. He had full confidence that she would be able to decode the Voynich manuscript. Other code-breakers before her who’d failed to unravel the mysteries of the ancient alchemical text hadn’t been sufficiently motivated. They hadn’t been as desperate for meaning
so quietly? She inhaled and smelled a familiar vernal scent, mixed with burned oak. Tobias. So he wasn’t with the Purgators. It was all a mistake. This was just an attic; Tobias had nothing to do with the cult. Fiona had only poked the sleeping beast. Mariana was right. And I’m an idiot for pushing us into this. She dug her nails into her palms. What’s wrong with me? On the other side of the attic, a plank rattled, followed by a crashing noise. Fiona cringed, tightening her grip on Tobias’s
door in search of her. Hi, everyone. Escaped prisoner here, looking for a princess. Don’t trouble yourselves with getting up. I’ll just try the next door up. Sorry about the blood on your doorstep. Reaching another landing, he rested his head on his forearms, his lungs heaving. “I’m done,” he croaked. “You go on.” Death wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Surely it was better than this. Groaning, Oswald pulled himself up another stair. “Keep going.” His voice sounded oddly distant. Thomas’s