Vacations from Hell
Cassandra Clare, Claudia Gray, Maureen Johnson, Sarah Mlynowski
Language: English
Pages: 288
ISBN: B002XUM1E8
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Life's a beach . . . and then you're undead?
in this must-have collection, five of today's hottest writers—Libba Bray (A Great and Terrible Beauty), Cassandra Clare (City of Bones), Claudia Gray (Evernight), Maureen Johnson (13 Little Blue Envelopes), and Sarah Mlynowski (Bras & Broomsticks)—tell supernatural tales of vacations gone awry. Lost luggage is only mildly unpleasant compared to bunking with a witch who holds a grudge. And a sunburn might be embarrassing and painful, but it doesn't last as long as a curse. Of course, even in the most hellish of situations, love can thrive. . . .
From light and funny to dark and creepy, these stories have something for everyone. You definitely won't want to leave this collection at home!
supplies from beneath the bed and grabbed a small plastic spray bottle from her luggage. On hot days at the beach she filled the bottle with water so she could cool down while remaining in the sun; obviously, she wouldn’t be needing it for that anytime soon. A simple solution would be best. Something she didn’t have to cook up. Thinking fast, Cecily realized that a couple of the elixirs from this morning might do the trick if she poured them together in the right proportions. It was difficult
some witches preferred—Mom liked to keep things simple—the book possessed a kind of power just sitting there. Maybe it was Cecily’s imagination, but the pale gray cover seemed to glow a little even without any moonlight. She could have done this research inside, but that would have been too comfortable: warm and cozy with a lamp to read by. The temptation to discover all of Mom’s spells would’ve been too great. Cecily didn’t feel guilty for stealing the Book of Shadows, because this was
the ends of his words. “My dog,” he said. “I’m looking for my dog. He often goes out hunting rabbits, but he has been gone for hours now. Have you seen a dog?” “No,” I said. “I’m sorry.” He bit his lower lip thoughtfully and stared at the trees again. “I am afraid he may have gotten stuck in a hole or hurt,” he said. “I call and call, but he does not come.” He sucked the last of the cigarette down to the butt and dropped it to the grass, still burning. It snuffed itself out. “You are
behind them in a sheet of pale gold, and I think how I wish I had hair like that, and then I see her purse her lips as if she’s about to start whistling. And Evan’s mouth opens too, though his eyes are still closed. His chest is rising and falling fast now, as if he’s running. I see his hand clench into a fist. Something pale white and faint as a wisp of smoke rises from his mouth; it looks like he’s exhaling a puff of dandelion fluff. Mrs. Palmer straightens, and reaches to flip over the
years, each family sacrificed one child to Satan in exchange for security. To show that you were loyal, that you would keep your promise and follow through, you had to cut the child’s hair and twine it into a plait attached to the goat. By doing that you promised your child’s soul.” “That is seriously f’ed up, man,” Baz said staring at the picture. “But they believed it was necessary. And beliefs have power. That’s why superstitions are so hard to root out,” Mariana said. She ran a finger