Blog Tour: Guestpost, Excerpt & Giveaway Jacob Z. Flores – Spell Fall (The Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge #4)

Drake’s Diary Part II

Hello, everyone! I’m Jacob Z. Flores, and I’m excited to be here promoting Spell Fall, the fourth book of my Warlock Brothers of Havenbridge series. In case you didn’t already know, this series follows the lives of Mason, Thad, and Pierce Blackmoor, three magical brothers.

So far, the brothers have narrated their own book, detailing their battles with enemies that threatened their lives and the magical community. Along the way, they also found true love.

With book 4, I’m shaking things up. Yes, book 3 closed the first story arc of the series, but there’s another story arc brewing, a new enemy to face, and more secrets ready to be revealed.

In Spell Fall, Mason’s human boyfriend Drake takes on the narrator’s role, and at the previous stop on my tour, I shared the first of three journal entries from Drake’s diary. These entries explain what’s been happening in Havenbridge since the end of book 3 and prepares the way for the start of Drake’s book in Spell Fall.

Today, we continue that series with another entry.

January 18

Dear Diary,

I’m so mad I could start a fight with an empty house!

The Conclave hasn’t answered Mr. Blackmoor’s summons for the past few weeks. Could they still have their panties in a bunch about what happened on Aeaea? Sure, we’d kept some information from them, but it’s not like they’ve been forthcoming either. For a governing body filled with the most powerful warlocks, witches, and wizards on the planet, they’re sure acting like a bunch of Kindergarteners. If my momma were here, she’d flip each one of them over her knee and paddle their bottoms a bright crimson red.

Don’t they realize we need answers about the Spell Fall? Whatever this curse is, they sure made it sound as if it was a magical apocalypse. If it’s really as bad as they claim it is, isn’t filling us in more important than their temper tantrum?

Judging by their silence, that’s a big fat NO!

How am I supposed to protect Mason if I don’t know what I’m protecting him from? I know he tells me not to worry, that he will keep me safe, but I’m the one who’s immune to magic—not him or anyone else!

There has to be a reason for my magical immunity, and my gut tells me that little talent will be more important than Mason’s shadow weaving, Thad’s snow storms, Pierce’s living lightning form, or even Mr. Blackmoor’s stone armor.

But what good will I, or any of us, be if we don’t know what’s coming? And something is coming. I can feel it.

There’s only one person that could be—Ica. We might not know a lot about him, like who or what he is, but he was pulling Ben and Sersie’s strings. He’s the one who’s been behind everything from the very beginning, and my gut tells me he’s getting ready to make his move.

And I can’t shake the feeling that whatever it is, it involves Mason.

Ica, if you’re reading this or my thoughts or doing a Casper impersonation right now, I want you to listen and listen good. I won’t let you hurt Mason.

He’s my warlock. He’s my boyfriend.

I’m immune to magic, which means I’m immune to you. If you even think about hurting Mason, I’ll be coming for you, and there’ll be nothing you or your magic will be able to do about it.

That’s not a threat or even a promise. That’s a guarantee.

Excerpt #1

Mason’s low snore pulled me from my thoughts, which was a good thing. I couldn’t dwell in the negativity anymore. No matter how hard it was, I had to do what my papa always said and point my shoes in the direction I wanted to go. Right now that direction was school, which Mason was never in a rush to get to. I slid off the mattress, grabbed the sheets, and yanked them free of the bed.

Mason yelped in surprise, curling into a naked ball. “What the hell? It’s cold!”

He was right. It was cold, but for me, the chill was more internal than external. “We need to get to class.”

Mason groaned and covered his face with a pillow. “Why can’t we take the day off?” His words were strangled, but after a few months of trying to coax Mason out of bed, I’d grown fluent in his muffled-pillow voice. “We could use a mental health day after yesterday.”

That was the God’s honest truth, but staying home meant I’d obsess over Aunt Millie, the stolen crest, and the Spell Fall. Distracting myself with the routine of school would keep me sane. “Because we both have a big test comin’ up over King Lear.”

Mason threw the pillow across the room. “Stupid Shakespeare. Why can’t he just write like a regular person?”

I loved Mason dearly, but his idea of a “regular person” was Dr. Seuss. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. You get ready.”

Mason perked up. “Shower?”

I pointed at him as I approached the bathroom door. “You. Stay.”

“Drake, wait.”

I paused at the doorway and glanced back. “What?”

“It’s probably a stupid question. Well, it is a stupid question, but how are… I mean after what happened….” He cursed and took a deep breath. “I just want to know if you’re doing okay.”

I wasn’t, but I’d get there eventually. I just had to keep focused on the fact that I did what Aunt Millie wanted. If she were here, she’d be shooing me into the bathroom, fussing at me to not let what happened to an old woman stop me from living my life. “I’m hangin’ in there.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

I blew him a kiss. “Just be you.”

“In that case.” He got out of bed. “It’s shower time.”

            

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