--Watty winner-- In Victorian London, monster hunting isn't just a job, it's a way of life. Freddie Westman, a reporter for a paranormal magazine, is one of the best in the business, but now it's personal. His childhood friend, Jim Penderry, has disappeared, and the signs point to sinister forces from beyond the grave. If Westman wants to save Jim, he'll have to face his worst fear. No, not fighting a demon with only a cake to hand. Something far more daunting. Sceptical Sophie Penderry doesn't solve mysteries or go on adventures. She's more at home in the library with her nose in The Botanist's Guide to Plants and Fungi. But she puts the science books away to help Westman find her missing brother, whether he likes it or not. Which he really doesn't. Westman is a loner, reluctant to lead anyone into danger. According to him, the supernatural is not just the stuff of folklore and children's nightmares, and a world of black magic awaits them. Now Westman must decide if he should push Sophie away for her own safety, or take a leap of faith and accept an offer of help and friendship. Either way, time is running out to find Jim, and worse still, they may not make it back in time for tea and biscuits. ~Featured story (Sep 2014 - Aug 2017) ~Selected by R.L. Stine's 'Slappy' (Goosebumps Movie's sponsored reading list) ~Winner of the Wattys 2014 HQ Love Award

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.