Tomes of the Authentic Witch, 1

Tara secretly wished her estranged father would want her around, so when he unexpectedly contacted her, she agreed to get reacquainted. That wish turned into a nightmare. 

She learned that she is an Authentic Witch—the Maiden of the Moodus Coven—and the key to obliterating the black magic Haddam coven. Tara’s mother took her into hiding when she was small in order to keep her alive but the Haddam’s found her. Now Tara must trust the help she’s found in her three close friends, one mystifying new love, and a father she barely knows as she fights for the life of her mother using a power she doesn’t yet understand. 

And one of those trusts might cost Tara her life. 

14+ due to adult situations

Excerpt:

We walked up on a small, cinderblock building. There was a plaque on the door facing us with the silhouette of a woman in a dress painted on it. Isaac turned the handle back and forth firmly. It was locked. His teeth bore down and ground together loudly.    

“I just can’t catch a break today,” he whispered into the night.

Unexpectedly, and with unrealistic strength, he kicked the door in. Never before had I seen a blow delivered with such force. The hollow metal door fired open like a cannon, striking the wall behind it, discharging a deafening echo through the structure. Isaac held onto me like a treasure while he led me inside. Maybe it was the near-death experience, but I melted into his strong arms like any good damsel-in-distress would.

Isaac turned the water on, and it rushed into the basin hard, splashing droplets all over the counter. I stood like a zombie. Isaac hiked my shirtsleeves up to my forearms, trapping my bracelet in the bunched up fabric, but as he fumbled around with the dead weight of my limbs scrubbing at the dried blood stuck to them, the jewelry was knocked loose and fell to my wrist. Isaac went rigid at the sight of it but recovered fast to finish my arms before moving on to my forehead. We said nothing. 

Anguish lodged in the wrinkle between his furrowed brows, now only inches from my face. Isaac wet down another wad of paper towel, and as his gentle strokes wiped across my face it brought a little life back to me. Even so, there were no romantic gazes or love-struck smiles being exchanged—only intense analysis from Isaac, and all-consuming fear from me.