Evangeline Theopolis has nightmares about the violent deaths of women she has never met. Her single mother, Olivia, suffers delusions she can’t hide. And Malledy, a brilliant young man, may have a disease that will leave him paralyzed and insane. Their lives are about to collide.
On Evangeline’s 16th birthday her mother gives her a necklace with an antique key charm—a family heirloom, though no one knows what the key unlocks.
Everything changes. Her mom is hospitalized. Her godmother attempts murder. An ancient Order tries to kill Evangeline, and a lethal sect to kidnap her.
Nothing makes sense—especially Evangeline’s own face, which has morphed from geeky to eerily stunning; the ancient key that feels strangely alive against her skin; and the magical abilities she begins to possess.
Evangeline must use her wits and supernatural powers to fight her deadly adversaries and discover her true identity. But can she accept who she really is and save the world?
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EXCERPT from the book
Evangeline climbed a rickety wooden ladder into the hayloft. She wore a cotton nightgown she’d never seen before—ivory-colored with tiny pink roses, long enough to brush the tops of her bare feet…except they weren’t her feet, because they were too small and delicate and the nails were painted cherry-red.
When she reached the loft, she found a lantern on the floor. Raising the glass top, she lit the wick with a match she hadn’t known she carried, and then turned the brass knob. The lantern glowed, illumining lazy dust motes, bales of yellowed hay, and a thick rope coiled in the corner.
Evangeline tossed the free end of the rope over a rafter. She braced herself, leaned out from the ladder, and grabbed the dangling rope. Slowly her hands, which were not her hands because there was a pear-shaped diamond ring on the left ring finger, fashioned the end of the rope into a noose. I don’t know how to make a noose, Evangeline thought as she slid it over her head and tightened it around her neck.
Evangeline watched her pale feet shuffle along the uneven, slatted floor toward the edge of the hayloft. Her pulse raced. This isn’t happening. But she could smell the thick, cloying sweetness of the hay. This can’t be real. But she felt a splinter from the rough wood bite into her heel. Stop! And then she stepped into space, stomach hurtling into her mouth—terror numbing her body—rope tightening—legs kicking…