The Gifts of Our Mothers
Hazel Black
(The Witches of Auburn, #1)
Publication date: October 2nd 2017
Genres: Paranormal, Young Adult
In the dark woods I’m forbidden to go into, lying on top of the one person I swore I’d stay away from, and hiding from the men who chased him, I hold still as Ike Kennedy whispers in my ear, “Don’t leave me.”
The questions of why my mother packed up our lives and moved us to Auburn, New Jersey when she, herself, fled here twenty years ago, plague me every day. Her past and the people in this town loom over our family with a haunting understanding of the coven I was born into, but realize I know nothing about. The enemies I heard stories about as a child attack without warning or regard for human life, but I don’t know who they are.
I’m Ever Ayars. I can fly. I can disappear. I can move things with my mind, but my gifts are my only clarity. Lost within a new school, new friends, and a new life, there is only one thing I know for sure.
I’m not leaving Ike Kennedy.
Excerpt
“Helene!” Lovie said and embraced her. Energy burst from them like a sparkler. It was beautiful and seemed too hot, but even as a child, I knew it would never burn me. I only had this feeling of security when the three of them were together. It would come upon me as they approached and grew stronger the closer they got. It made no sense, but it wasn’t supposed to by earthly standards.
Sloane gently took my mother’s bag from her shoulder and held it in her arms. “Geesey,” she said, and I knew it was a word from their childhood language. They used it for hello and I love you and for when the stagnant silence of mourning left us without any words to say.
“Ever, come here,” Lovie pulled me tight against her body. “We’ve missed you.” She meant her and her daughter, Maya. Lovie let go and melded into my mother and Sloane’s conversation. The three of them went on as if they were alone in the world. I’d thought they were two months ago when Lovie’s husband died. They’d stayed up the entire night talking about the past and what was to be done about the future. Maya, Ruby, and I—the daughters that discussions were hushed around—were left by the empty fruit bowl on the patio, listening to our mothers decipher death.
Our luggage circled the conveyor belt, and I resisted the urge to telekinetically retrieve our enormous suitcases. Instead, I behaved and hauled them off, placing each one on the floor between my mother and me like the rest of the passengers. Without hesitation, Sloane and Lovie raised the handles and rolled us all toward the exit. I followed them until we stopped at the median for the rental car shuttles to pass.
The elderly woman next to me rested against the concrete divider, and I looked around for an escort or family member to help her. She slipped me a knowing smile, as if she’d read my mind, but then I realized she was admiring my mother and Lovie and Sloane. The way they rested near each other gave the impression they were touching, when in fact, they were only connected by each other’s souls.
The woman stepped off the curb and dragged her suitcase behind her. When the shuttle bus continued to speed toward her, not yielding to let her cross, I stopped it. It screeched to a halt two feet from the woman’s floral tapestry bag. Grateful for the break from the mundane, I shut down the engine entirely, leaving the traffic behind the bus to honk and wonder why they were no longer moving. I silenced their horns and watched as they beat on the steering columns that were betraying them. The shuttle driver examined the dash and pedals of the vehicle as the elderly woman continued to walk the pavement with her head held high.
“Ever,” my mother chastised me under her breath, and I released my hold on the components of the cars. “We are not invisible.”
“Oh, Helene, she’s strong,” Lovie said.
My heart stopped at my aunt’s tone. It was more than adoration. There was a hint of desperation, too.
I turned to my mother. “Why are we really in New Jersey?” I asked, but she was lost in her mind and surrounded by vehicle exhaust in the parking garage.
Author Bio:
Hazel Black graduated from Rutgers University and returned to her hometown in rural South Jersey. Her mother encouraged her to take some time and find herself. After three months of searching, she began to bounce checks, her neighbors began to talk, and her mother told her to find a job.
She settled into corporate America, learning systems and practices and the bureaucracy that slows them. Hazel quickly discovered her creativity and gift for story telling as a corporate trainer and spent years perfecting her presentation skills and studying diversity. It was during this time she became an avid observer of the characters she met and the heartaches they endured. Her years of study taught her that laughter, even the completely inappropriate kind, was the key to survival.
She currently lives in New Jersey with her family and a misbehaving beagle named Odin. As an avid swimmer, if Hazel is not with her family and friends, she’d rather be underwater. While she enjoys many genres, she is, and always has been, a sucker for a love story…the more screwed up the better.
Hazel Black writes contemporary romance as Eliza Freed. To keep up with all new releases and giveaways, sign up for her newsletter here.
