In Elemental magic you can be one of four magic types; water, fire, earth, and air. The only problem is Violet is none of these things. Is she what they call a magic dud, or is she something rarer, more powerful, and more dangerous than anyone could have imagined!? Teasers, "Em, most girls sneak out for a boy, you sneak out for a unicorn." I began to cry as it reached for my face."No!" I screamed. "Please No!" I went to pull back the shower curtain, but some nagging thought in the back of my head stopped me. I didn't have a little brother, so why was there a little boy in my bathroom? I gulped and with shaking hands pulled back the shower curtain. "What!? How could that be!?" I yelled, and covered my hand with my mouth. Shouting wasn't such a good idea right at this moment. If someone heard us and came up here to investigate the noise we were making, they would find a boy and a girl, a bloody knife with both their finger prints on it, and a very very dead body. "Don't touch her!" he hissed and lunged at Henry. Running through the night wearing nothing but a flimsy hospital dress, while waving a dismembered hand in his hand, was a strangeness no regular person could hope to inspire to.

(The Triumvirate Histories Book Four) What does the world think when a girl who'd been dead for three months turns up at the site of a huge CIA raid, which ended up with an explosion and four deaths? That she might have been in a stickier situation before than they'd known. What did they think would happen when she had a major panic attack after she realized that everything about her was gone, locked away in her mind? Well, obviously what did happen...or else they wouldn't have been prepared to knock her out again with morphine. And just who would that girl be? Me, Emmy Alexander...at least, that's who they told me I was. You know the stories of people with amnesia after a traumatic accident. They don't remember weeks, months, or maybe even a few years of their lives. I'd call them lucky, because they at least had a foundation to build on. Me? I couldn't remember a thing when I'd woken up after they'd knocked me out after my panic attack. I couldn't remember me, my family, my best friend, how I'd gotten the burns and cuts that now marred my body... I couldn't remember whose green eyes haunted my dreams every single night. My therapist said that my memories might come back in my dreams, when my subconscious mind was free to be revealed. And so far, she'd been right. Parts of my life were slowly coming back to me - my father's laugh, my mother's smile, my brother Jason's and best friend Drake's annoying overprotectiveness. But there were others that I couldn't explain - a tale of secret societies, puzzle keys, bronze boxes, and break-ins to museums and government buildings around the world. It wasn't until I saw those eyes on a man, who seemed so familiar that it made my heart ache, from across a gallery in the Louvre. A man who introduced himself as John Raymond. And it didn't take me very long to realize that maybe, just maybe, he was the key to everything.

There once lived a man and a woman who were unhappy because they were childless. Until one day a doctor changes their life and they have a baby girl. They ask the doctor to bestow on their baby genes for beauty, intelligence, grace, athletic prowess, singing ability and creativity. But at the christening an elderly aunt appears, dressed in black, and scoffs at this. Once she hits puberty none of her gifts will make any difference, the aunt says. She’ll just get married and settle down with her two point four brats, the same as anyone else. Years pass and the girl is seventeen and a high-flyer, the world at her feet. Then she meets a young man and feels something strange, as if an arrow has pierced her heart . . .