THE SEVENTH DAY
Book #3 in
The Vampire’s Witch Saga
Jennifer Abrahams
About Jennifer Abrahams
Jennifer Abrahams is the author of The Den, In the Blood, and The Seventh Day. While studying Psychology and Sociology at Boston College an event took place that significantly altered her life and ultimately inspired the creation of The Vampire’s Witch Saga. She lives with her husband in New York City.
Jennifer loves to hear from you, so please visit www.jenniferabrahamsauthor.com to stay in touch.
Books by Jennifer Abrahams
THE VAMPIRE’S WITCH SAGA
THE DEN (Book #1)
IN THE BLOOD (Book #2)
THE SEVENTH DAY (Book #3)
Copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Abrahams
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses. organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who dream
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if Hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream ...
-Edgar Allan Poe
Inspired by Actual Events …
-One-
Faith
It was daytime in New Orleans, but the den was dark below the Quarter’s cobblestone streets. Skyla sat cross-legged in the circle, chanting. The once-cool concrete floor grew warm underneath her. She was one of five members who were left in the makeshift home underneath the local bar, Steve’s Place. They had been at “the practice” for hours, pausing only for water breaks and the last sips of the remaining bottled blood.
