Crown of Blood: A Young Adult Paranormal Academy Romance

By Veronica Shade

Blood Magic could be the first step in freeing the statues, but performing the spell isn’t without consequences.

There’s one way to break the stone curse of La Voisin School for Witches, and the secret lies within the Soule family book of shadows.

But to find its location, Madison, Krista, and Ivy must perform a blood magic ritual using three not-so-simple ingredients: the bones of a dead animal, the hair of a drowned girl, and an athame made of rubies and gold.

Who would have guessed that last item would be the most dangerous to acquire?

Just as Madison gathers the last item needed to perform the spell, she falls into a trap—one set by someone she once trusted. Now she’s finally discovered where the missing students have gone...only to realize she might be the next to disappear.

Fans of Stephenie Meyers’ Twilight and Bella Forrest’s Harley Merlin series will devour Crown of Blood, book three of Veronica Shade’s Academy of the Damned.

Scroll up and one-click to continue reading this haunting, slow burn paranormal academy romance today

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evershade Publishing
• Release date: Apr 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949112436

Veronica Shade

Veronica Shade writes fast-paced young adult and new adult paranormal romance reads. When she's not busy writing about snarky heroines and darkly dreaming vampires, she spends her time binge-watching Game of Thrones and reruns of Firefly, playing with her cats, or gaming. Veronica’s love for writing comes second only to her love of reading. If you like her books, she recommends you also check out Bella Forrest, Kiera Cass, and Cassandra Clare. The Veronica Shade pen name is a joint-venture persona of authors Rebecca Hamilton, Heather Marie Adkins, April Canavan, Anna Applegate, and Leigh Anderson.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Finally, he’s here. I’m here. We’re together. Talking. The Statue Man and I.

I pinch myself to make sure it isn’t a dream. I don’t wake up, but I know Damon and I aren’t physically together. This is some sort of vision, induced by the magic I performed moments earlier.

For months, almost since my arrival at La Voisin, I’ve known the school for young witches isn’t quite right. That it’s full of secrets. The biggest one having to do with the strange statues around campus. The ones that are made of stone but look as though they’re trying to escape, crawling toward the hedgerow that surrounds the school grounds.

I’ve seen things moving out of the corner of my eye. Taken pictures of the statues over time that proved they were moving. Found unexplained notes and messages written in runes that I shouldn’t have been able to read but could.

So many times, I’ve wanted to leave this place. It’s too frightening. Too hard. Too sad. People around me have died over the last few months. I can’t bear it.

But something keeps pulling me back.

I know the statues need help. There’s something wrong with them. I’ve been trying to make contact with Damon most of all. I’m drawn to him for some inexplicable reason. And now he’s here, in my vision, and actually talking to me this time. I’m so happy, I can’t understand why my eyes are watering.

We don’t have much time, Damon says. It takes a lot of energy to project this way.

What can I do? I ask, not wanting to lose him so soon after finding him.

Help me.

Yes! I say. That’s why I’m here. What do you need?

I’m trapped, he says. Trapped in the stone. I ne—d—you—wake m—up.

What? I feel frantic as his voice fades in and out like a bad phone connection.

Wake me up, he says again, more forcefully, grabbing my hand.

I gasp. He feels cold, light, ethereal. As though I’m holding hands with mere mist, and I suppose I am.

How? I ask, my own voice cracking.

Find the Soul Grimoire. The Book of Shadows for the Spirit Coven.

A Spirit Coven! I knew it! Mr. Stewart had been thinking about the ‘Spirit Clan.’ And the picture of the school founders… There’d been five people pictured, not four.

I was right! There is a fifth clan!

Where is it? I ask. Where is the Soul Grimoire?

I wish I knew, he says. It was lost when—battle—

Hold on! I try to squeeze his hand, but there isn’t much to hold on to. What battle?

No time. Not important, Damon says. Just find it.

But…how? I ask again.

Trust your intuition. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze back this time. You know the way.

Why, though? What does any of this have to do with me?

You’re Spirit Coven, too, he says. A Soul Witch.

That can’t be right. I’m an Air Witch. And yet, some part of me trusts this man so completely that I take his statement as fact.

Okay, so I’m a soul witch. But what does that mean?

What’s a soul witch? I ask. I’ve never heard of that.

Damon sighs and shakes his head. No time. You’ll learn…

He starts to fade away.

No! I yell, reaching out.

But he’s already gone.

The grotto, the lawn, the mansion...everything fades to black.

I gasp as I awaken back in my room in present day. I’m lying on the floor, the mojo bag in my hand and the candle nearly burned out. I toss the bag against the wall and kick the candle over, spilling wax on the carpet and putting out the flame.

I don’t care about the mess. I cuss as I pull my knees up to my chest and lay my forehead on them. I close my eyes and try to remember everything Damon said. I don’t want to forget. We didn’t have a lot of time together, and he knew that, so every word must have been important. But my mind dwells on the one part most of all.

I’m a Soul Witch.

But what does that mean?

We’ve all been taught that there are four witch covens: Brewster Coven are water witches. Glenn Coven are earth witches. Craig Coven are fire Witches. And Grier Coven are air witches, and that is what I am/thought I was. All witches are descendants of the first coven elders who came to America on the Mayflower to escape persecution in Europe.

My mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother were all mundanes, people with witch blood born without powers. The last Grier witch in my family was my great-great-grandmother, who died before I was born. That I was born empowered was a shock to my family. They assumed that the blood had thinned too much to ever have a witch in the family again.

So how can I be a Soul Witch, whatever that is, if my family are Grier Coven?

What if it has to do with my father? He died when I was a baby, so I have no memory of him. And Mama never talked about him. She’d always said it was too hard, hurt too much. His death was why she fell into drug use and crap like that when I was growing up. Well, she said that she had taken drugs before she met him, too. But he’d supposedly helped her get clean. Then, when he died, she fell back into old habits.

That was her story anyway. I don’t really care about her excuses, though. It was a shitty way to grow up. But could this…Soul Witch? Spirit Coven? I’m getting confused. Anyway, could this mysterious Soul blood be on Daddy’s side of the family? And why have I always been told there are only four covens?

Who are these Soul witches? Where did they come from?

I stand and clean the mess I made, doing my best to scrape the wax out of the carpet. It’s rather dark out. I check my phone. It’s already after ten p.m., and I’m not sure if the rehab center where Mama is staying will let me talk to her so late, but I give her a call anyway.

Good evening, a smooth Southern voice says. How can I help you?

I need to talk to Genevive Whittaker.

I’m sorry, he says. But visiting hours are over. You can try calling back tomorrow after ten a.m.

Is this Justin? I ask the familiar voice.

Hey, Madison, he says, and I can almost hear the smile in his voice. Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice at first. It’s been a long day.

I hear that, I say. Justin is a social worker at the center who has been nice to talk to about stuff once in a while. But I have to be careful about what I say. I can’t let it slip that I’m a witch. Even now, we have to keep that part of ourselves hidden from the mortal world. Are you sure you can’t let me talk to Mama for a minute? It’s really important.

Sorry, he says again, and I know he means it. You know how the rules are at places like this. We have to be pretty strict. Any change in protocol can just send people into a spiral.

Even a phone call at 10:05? I ask with a chuckle.

You’d be surprised, he says. But I can talk to you for a bit. Or I can take her a message and let her know you’ll call tomorrow.

No, I say. I…I don’t want to give her time to come up with what she’s going to say.

Uh-oh, he says. Sounds serious. Sure you don’t want to talk to me about it?

Are you up for it? I ask, sitting down on my bed and settling in for a long conversation. It’s uhh…kind of a doozy.

He laughs. Doozies just happen to be my specialty.

Well, I can’t go into details, I say, my muscles practically melting from relaxation at his seeming calmness, but I might have just learned something about my past, about my dad, that might prove that pretty much everything I’ve been told my whole life is a lie.

Okay, he says, and then there’s a pause.

Just okay? I ask.

Sure, he says. It’s pretty common for drug addicts to keep quite a bit from their families, and not just the drug use.

Really? I ask.

Like anyone, Justin explains, putting his social worker cap on, drug addicts are complicated people. They have pasts and secrets and baggage just like all of us. But when people who aren’t addicts grow close, they tend to open up to each other. You know, get all the skeletons out of the closet so they don’t tumble out on you later after you’ve built a life together.

But addicts don’t do that...?

Right, he says. They get so used to hiding their addiction, and not trusting people, that even when they get close enough to people to build a life, they keep everything hidden because they don’t know what is safe to reveal. Often an addict will reveal things several times to their partners or family before all the truth comes out.

So, they hurt us over and over again, I say, trying not to get annoyed with my mom all over again. And we’re just supposed to accept that from them?

You definitely don’t have to do that, Justin says. Many people do, because, you know, ‘family.’ But it’s okay for you to set boundaries for yourself. You don’t have to be anyone’s punching bag. Not even your mama’s.

I lay back on the bed with a sigh and put my arm under my head. No one ever told me that before, I say. That I can just…walk away, you know?

Well, there are reasons we offer counseling for family members, too, he says. You’re probably traumatized by some of the things you experienced growing up.

So, I’m messed up too, huh? I ask wryly.

Aren’t we all? he jokes back. But…yeah. I mean, think about it. What does anyone really know about being a parent when their first kid comes along? There’s only so much instinct can do when it comes to showing people how to be a parent day in and day out. We are all just muddling through the best we can. I think we would all benefit from a bit of therapy once in a while.

Do you see a therapist? I ask.

I do, he says. It’s actually kind of important in my line of work to have someone I can unload to.

It’s hard, huh? I say. Listening to other people’s problems all day every day?

Well, anything worth doing is going to have its challenges, he says.

I think about that for a minute, not saying anything. I know I’m probably getting a little tired. It’s been a long, emotional day. But talking to Justin has really calmed my mind.

Are you still there? he asks finally.

Yeah, I say. Just…thinking.

Well, don’t think too much, he says. You need to get out of your head once in a while. Are you exercising?

Not really, I say, pinching at the skin on what used to be a rock hard stomach. I was in cheer back…before I came here, so I was really active. But here, I just go to class and study and hang out with my friends.

Get some exercise, he says. Not just a walk, but something that makes you sweat. That you have to concentrate on to keep from tripping over yourself. It will force you to get out of your mind for a bit. Do it every day. I promise you’ll feel better.

I chuckle. I mean, it won’t help me figure out what a spirit witch is. Or a Soul Coven. Or find the Soul Grimoire. Or wake Damon up. Or figure out my past or who my daddy was. But, sure, I guess a run couldn’t hurt.

Okay, I say. I’ll start first thing in the morning. We aren’t supposed to leave our rooms this late.

I’m going to hold you to that, he says. Are you going to call and talk to your mom tomorrow? Should I expect to hear from you in the morning?

Yeah, I say. I’ll call tomorrow. But don’t give her a heads up.

Okay, he says. But if you would rather talk to her in person, like have a mediator present, I could be there.

That is so tempting. I wish I could talk to Mama with someone else there. Someone to keep us on track and keep her from lying. But we can’t do that with Justin, or anyone else for that matter. He can’t be let in…not on this Soul Witch thing, or any other witch thing for that matter.

I’ll remember that, I say. But I’ll try talking to her myself first.

Okay, he says. Well, good luck. And I’ll be here if you change your mind.

Thanks, I say. Talk to you later.

Talk to you later, Madison, he says, and the call ends.

I roll over and put my phone on the desk by my bed. Zoey’s bed still sits empty. I never did find her. But I have to keep up the hope that I will. Damon has set me on the path, as obfuscated as it may be.

Find the Soul Grimoire.

Whatever and wherever it is.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I’m still planning on calling Mama, but I wake so early I leave my room for a bit first.

Of course, I go to see my statue man. I mean Damon.

Damon. He has a name!

I think over my research as I walk across the dewy lawn. I definitely never came across a Damon before. Never saw him mentioned in any of the books or saw him referenced by name in Giselle’s notes.

I assume I’ve gotten a lot farther than Giselle ever had, but I’m not sure how comforting that is considering Giselle’s research into the statues is probably part of what led to her death.

So why am I still alive?

I’m hardly very stealthy. I’ve made so many mistakes along the way. But I’m still here, while Giselle and Zoey are gone. It doesn’t make any sense.

Giselle was from a much stronger witch family. And Zoey was like a witch prodigy. I’m practically mundane compared to them. So what does it all mean?

I try to shrug it off as I enter the grotto, a place that usually calms my mind and heart. But today, when I see Damon, my heart skips a beat and then speeds up faster than usual.

Hi, I say to him, stepping in front of him so he can see me. I’m not sure if you can hear me in there. I wish we’d had more time to talk last night. And I wish I knew how to contact you again once you’ve built your strength back up. It seems like every time we meet, it’s kind of random.

I tuck my hair behind my ears. I’ve gotten used to talking to the statue, even though other people would think I’m crazy if they caught me. But it’s different now. Now, I know he’s not a statue. Now, I know his name. And now, I know he needs my help.

Now…he’s real.

I want you to know I’m going to do whatever it takes to help you, I say. I’m starting today. I need to talk to my mom. I’m sure she knows more than she’s told me in the past. And then…I’m not sure. Something will come to me. You said my intuition would lead me, so I’m going to listen to what my heart says.

Listen to what your heart says about what?

I turn around to find Jaxon entering the grotto, a smile on his face.

Oh, hey, I say. Just…about stuff. Things.

He reaches for my arm and pulls me toward him, looking down on me with a hunger in his eyes that tells me he wants to kiss me. I look down, though, and he kisses my forehead instead and then wraps his arm around me.

I never should have kissed him.

Sure, I like Jaxon. But I only kissed him because I was leaving and didn’t want him to know. But now that I’m staying, does he think I want a relationship?

I hope not, because I definitely don’t. Things are too crazy to even think about something like that! I have to find out what all this soul grimoire, spirit coven stuff means so I can help Damon.

And, besides, just because I might be open to a bit of…physical comfort from a guy once in a while...doesn’t mean I’m ready for a relationship. Things were so serious with Beau before he died. So intense. I still believe he was The One. It’s going to take time for me to open myself up to something like that again. It’s a long process, I’m finding out.

Jaxon releases me and looks up at Damon. So, what is next on your agenda?

I need to talk to my mom, I say.

What about? he asks.

Just checking in, I say, not quite ready to tell him about what Damon told me in my vision. Not until after I talk to Mama. I’ll tell him then. And Ivy and Krista. I just need to get my thoughts in order first. I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks.

Cool, he says, letting me go and stepping away, but he doesn’t leave.

I get the weird feeling he’s like…checking up on me or something. Like he wants to know if I’m up to something.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I reach up to rub them down. I should head back to my room, I say. Make the call to Mama. I’m going to miss my first class. Can you let our teacher know that I’ll get the assignment later.

Sure, he says. I’ll walk you back to your room.

He holds his hand out to me with a smile. I smile back, hoping it looks genuine as I take his hand and we walk from the grotto. I look back over my shoulder at Damon and can’t help but think his stony face is frowning.

The weather sure is nice, I say, looking up as a few fall leaves tumble through the air around us.

Jaxon takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he raises his face to the sun. Everything is dying, you know? he says.

What? I ask, wondering where such a morbid response is coming from.

The leaves, he says. They fall because they are dead. They aren’t getting the nutrients they need, the water. So they wither and die. The grass too. It will be brown in a few weeks.

Okay, I say. Thanks, Mr. Sunshine.

He gives me a half-smile. "It’s beautiful in its own way. Circle of life and all that jazz. Without death, we couldn’t have life. The leaves and