The Hallow

By Patti Larsen

Sydlynn Hayle is back in an all-new novella! When her Halloween party extravaganza is interrupted by an old spirit with world domination in mind, Syd must overcome a list of opponents--all of whom mean the world to her. This novella falls between book Twenty of the Hayle Coven Novels (The Last Call) and book One of The First Plane Trilogy in chronology.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Oct 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463051207

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

The Hallow

A Hayle Coven Novella

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about me at

http://www.pattilarsen.com

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Welcome to the Hayle Coven Universe! If you’re new, never fear—while this novella unfolds between the first series (the Hayle Coven Novels) and the next in the chronology (The First Plane Trilogy), this story is a stand-alone that will give you a taste of Sydlynn Hayle’s world without offering up too many spoilers (though some are inevitable, be warned!).

If you are a fan of Syd already, you’re in for a treat! This was a fun opportunity to explore what Syd’s life was like when she wasn’t saving the world… well. Ahem. Yeah, I guess it’s about to happen again…

Happy reading!

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Chapter One

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Halloween. I know, I know, growing up in a paranormal family, a girl who only wanted to be normal and ordinary and like everyone else, loving the most spooky of nights doesn’t sound like a good fit. But Halloween was always the one time that I could pretend the vampires living in cupboards in my basement were only wearing costumes. That my little sister with her red skin and amber eyes, her tiny black horns peeking out from her jet curls, was in the best Hollywood demon makeup ever. And that my mother, my stunning and powerful coven leader mother, was just dressed like a witch because it was time to hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters.

And while those days were long behind me, my sixteen-year-old stubborn self who hated magic evolved into twenty-five-year-old me, mom of two, married and coven leader myself, Halloween still reminded me of giggling with a hat in my hands, my newly minted best friend, Alison Morgan, at my side, the pair of us gathering more treats than we knew what to do with while the quiet calm settled over my adopted hometown of Wilding Springs, Pennsylvania.

I shook off the past as I patted at the fluffy skirt of my perky outfit, the black dress’s hem bouncing over the edge of the impossibly thick crinoline. Tiny while gloves, delicate lace things I’d found online, ended at my wrists, tied with black velvet bows, a contrast to the white one around my waist, artfully repaired with heavy black thread to make it look as damaged as the makeup I’d carefully applied to my face. There was something hideously delicious about the cracked porcelain doll I’d transformed myself into. And while I usually didn’t take such an effort, neither had I been to an actual Halloween party in a very long time.

No way I was wasting the chance to take full advantage of the fun.

The fishnet stockings itched a bit, but no more so than the heavy anime wig I’d crammed onto my head. I refused to regret the choice or the black kitten heels with the soles painted white to match my dark and light motif. There was a time I’d have sold my soul to fit in, and dressing up for a party like this one meant social life or death. The past few years, however, existence had settled into a kind of tranquil domesticity, day to day joys of coven, married and mommy life all feeling exactly like the kind of reward I’d earned, thank you very much.

I might have been three years out from the gigantic task that changed my entire existence, but I had far from forgotten any of it. (Curious about Syd’s past? You can find the Hayle Coven Novels, starting with Family Magic, at all fine retailers!)

None of that mattered now, though, not when I accepted a glass of punch from the young man with the nervous smile in the scarecrow costume behind the bar before turning to beam at the gathering of people chatting quietly and happily among themselves. Faces so familiar and so loved I sighed softly in delight to be here with them, tonight. While the Hilltop Hotel overlooking Wilding Springs proper didn’t hold the best of memories for me, it was nice to build some new ones, this one in particular.

Quaid brushed my shoulder as he took his own drink from the bartender, his chocolate eyes laughing at me, smirk firmly in place. That smile used to make me equally irritated and lustful, though I blamed my demon resident for that. My Demoniconian father’s gift to me, that persona I carried had always leaned toward rampant desire for my delicious husband while I’d done my best to dislike him for being such a jerkasaurus. Well, some things never changed, though love won in the end.

Doesn’t it always?

Tell me I get to undress you later. His deep voice, that velvety growling baritone that always sent a zing through my heart, warmed with the mental touch of hot caramel.

I flushed, his blatant offer unexpected. Married to him or not, Quaid would always have a rather intimately seductive effect on me, I was positive. At least, I could hope.

We’ll see. I arched an eyebrow, feeling the heavy makeup tugging at my skin, tilting my head and adopting an innocent doll expression. Do you want to play with me?

He laughed, one arm slipping around my waist, tugging me against him. He’d lost none of his physical fitness and despite my heels he still stood over me, that snarky grin no longer cynical.

Don’t tempt me, he whispered over my lips.

Oh my. I smacked him playfully with one gloved hand, pushing free, breathless and laughing myself. How had I been so lucky to end up with him at my side? After everything we’d been through, all the trials and losses, the fights and heartbreaks, I had my happily ever after.

How awesome was that?

Quaid’s black hair, waves so long they fell over his ears and across his collar, shrugged, dark eyes slitted, broad, square jaw jumping as his grin tightened. He’d opted for what I’d earlier complained was a rather boring costume, consisting of his black leather motorcycle jeans and jacket and a plain white t-shirt. Supposedly the matching white scarf around his neck transformed his favorite riding gear into some sort of silver screen hero—at least in his own mind—but at least he’d agreed to come to the party in the first place, so I wasn’t complaining.

Much.

I stroked back a lock of his hair from his forehead, unable to stop smiling, beaming really. Like an idiot. But love had a funny influence on me and no matter what happened the last few years, I found myself sighing in contentment so often I often wondered if I’d fallen head first