By Kami Garcia, Margaret Stohl
Lena Duchannes is in contrast to somebody the small Southern city of Gatlin has ever visible, and she's suffering to hide her energy, and a curse that has haunted her kinfolk for generations. yet even in the overgrown gardens, murky swamps and crumbling graveyards of the forgotten South, a mystery can't remain hidden forever.
Ethan Wate, who has been counting the months till he can get away from Gatlin, is haunted via desires of a pretty woman he hasn't ever met. whilst Lena strikes into the town's oldest and so much notorious plantation, Ethan is inexplicably interested in her and decided to discover the relationship among them.
In a city without surprises, one mystery may well switch every thing.
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Additional info for Beautiful Creatures (Beautiful Creatures, Book 1)
Get-t-t-t back in your seat,” he stuttered. Misha waved him away. “I need to borrow Sasha for a moment, Professor. ” “I suppose…,” Bartholomew said, glaring at his unruly but talented young student. ” “Of course. ” Misha took hold of her shoulder and led her into the hall. ” she asked. She practically bounced in excitement. Her short feathery hair was the same shade of red as her uncle’s, but her blue eyes were warmer. “Calm down, Sasha. I need you to run a message to Durrik of Gregion. I need him here as soon as possible.
BARD SET down his stylus, the last rune complete. He rubbed the finish oil into the leather of the glove. The runes glowed bright, and once the light faded away, the runes had disappeared. Bard picked up the box the mate lay in and put them together. Bard whistled softly, pleased with his work. ” Durrik asked from the doorway. Bard turned around and flashed a smile. A pencil was stuck through the tail of his hair. “Yes. ” Durrik smiled and swept into the room. His gloves were worn, the magic dying.
The mountain’s people stared up in surprise and awe. The people wondered at the sun. Were the gods taking heed of the curse at last? At the lowest edge of the city, two riders made their way to the gates. Wind blew the scent of the sunlit plains, dry and dusty, up the path and through the lower city, shoving the reek of unwashed flesh and rot from the slave pens. That smell was never gone for long. It was thicker, heavier than any scent ought to be, clinging like grease to the streets. The male rider wrinkled his nose; the girl, Sasha, did not seem to notice the smell.