"Book Two of the Dark Elite Delves Deeper Into Chicago's Paranormal Underworld While Teen Love Grows"
Reviewed by Diana Troldahl
Posted February 14, 2011
Young Adult Paranormal
Chloe Neill (Chicagoland Vampires series) has brought her
paranormal chops to young adult urban fantasy with her Dark
Elite novels. In book one of the series (Firespell), Lily Parker is
sent to St. Sophias, a swanky Chicago boarding school, while
her parents transfer to Europe to continue their scientific
studies. She soon discovers there are secrets within secrets
there and becomes involved with a paranormal task force
whose duties include keeping people with magical talents
safe from the Reapers, those who take others' energy for
their own. In book two, HEXBOUND, Lily is getting to know Michael, the
cute sophomore with a furry secret and feeling her way as
she realizes how much he likes her, too. But she has also
caught the interest of Sebastian Born, the Reaper who
triggered her talent. He wants to talk to her, wants her
trust, and yeah, he didn't kill her when he had the chance
(and even helped her escape) but he stands for everything
she and the other adepts are fighting against. Still, he is
the only one she knows who can teach her more about her
firespell power. She doesn't have a lot of leisure time to worry about it
between the demands of her class work and the patrols she
and the other Adepts are making. There is a new nasty in the
tunnels below Chicago and until they can track down who is
creating them, no one, Adept or mundane will be safe. Add in
a turf war between rival Vamp gangs, Michael
hinting about a truth that will keep them apart and hints
that her parents may be part of the evil they are fighting
and her second year at St. Sophia's is shaping up to be even
worse than the first. Neill has a deft hand with teen dialogue and
characterization while still making the series enjoyable for
adult reading. She doesn't avoid the hard questions but
places them in context in ways sometimes avoided by other
Young Adult authors. I am greatly anticipating the next in
the series.
Learn more about Hexbound
SUMMARY
Lily Parker is new to St. Sophia’s School for Girls, but
she’s already learned that magic can be your best friend…or
your worst enemy. They say absolute power corrupts absolutely. Turns out,
even a little magic can turn you to the dark side. That’s
why Lily has to learn how to control her newly discovered
paranormal abilities, on top of avoiding the snobs who
think they run her school, nursing a crush on a cute
sophomore with a big, werewolf-y secret, and fighting the
good fight with her best friend Scout as they take on
Chicago’s nastiest nightlife—including the tainted magic
users known as Reapers. Then Lily’s invited to a private meeting with Sebastian.
He’s hot, powerful, and offering to help her harness the
magic flowing in her veins in a way no one else can. He’s
also a Reaper. Lily can’t hide her suspicions. But she’ll
soon find out that the line between good and evil isn’t
always clear…
ExcerptCHAPTER ONE[Note - This is pre-edited copy, and may contain
grammatical and typographical errors; no worries--they\'ve
been fixed.] I stayed absolutely still, my eyes closed, the sun warm on
my face. As long as I didn’t fidget too much, the noon sun
was just strong enough to cancel out the chilly October
breeze that blew through our part of downtown Chicago. I guess there was a reason they called it the Windy City. It was a Sunday afternoon at St. Sophia’s School for Girls,
and I was squeezed into a tiny square of sunshine on the
lawn with my friend Scout. She sat beside me with her arms
stretched out behind her, eyes closed and head tipped up to
the sky. I sat cross-legged, art history book open in my
lap. Every few minutes we’d inch our legs a little farther
to the left, trying to take in the last warm bit of fall. “This totally beats sitting in class,” Scout said. “And
wearing uniforms.” Scout was dressed in a black skirt and shirt she’d sewn
from two White Sox T-shirts. It was quite a change from the
navy and yellow private school plaid we usually wore. And
then there were the shoes (Converses she’d coated in gold
glitter), the hair (a short blond bob with dark tips), and
the silver nose ring. Even in the uniform, there was no
mistaking Scout Green for the average “St. Sophia’s girl.” “You are totally rocking those clothes today.” Scout opened an eye and glanced down at her jersey
skirt. “I appreciate your appreciation of my obvious good
taste. Besides, someone had to rock it out. This place is a
like a dismal swamp of bleh.” I put a hand over my heart. “Thank God you’re here to save
us, Saint Scout.” Scout snorted and crossed one ankle over the other, her
shoes glinting in the sunlight. “And now I know why I keep finding glitter on my bedroom
floor.” “Whatever. My shoes do not shed.” I gave her a dubious look. “Seriously. That’s just . . . um . . . horn dust from the
unicorns that braid your hair while you sleep.” Scout and I both looked at each other. Unfortunately, while
I didn’t remember waking up with any mysterious braids, we
couldn’t exactly rule out the unicorn part. Oh, did I mention Scout could do magic? Yeah, you heard me. And I know what you’re thinking: “Lily
Parker, there’s no such thing as magic. The tofu is
starting to go to your head.” You’re going to have to trust me on this one. See, as it
turns out, Chicago is home to an underground world of
magicians battling it out while the rest of the city is
asleep. And those magicians included the girl beside me,
who was now humming a song from High School Musical 3. Scary, right? Millicent Green, AKA Scout, was actually an Adept and a
member of Enclave Three. And here’s the second twist—so was I. See, I was actually from upstate New York, but when my
parents decided to head to Germany for a research
sabbatical, they figured St. Sophia’s, deep in the heart of
Chicago, was the best place for me to spend my junior and
senior years of high school. They said parents knew best. To my mind, the jury was
still out. I didn’t come to Chicago with any powers, at least not that
I was aware. And my parents certainly weren’t doing magic
in their free time. Again, at least not that I was aware. But with a secret
trip to Germany? Who really knew? I’d been told by
Marceline Foley, the headmistress of St. Sophia’s, that
their work had something to do with genetics. She’d changed
her tune later on, but there was no unringing that bell—or
the fact that their European vacation was related to a
place called the Sterling Research Foundation. For their
safety, I’d made a promise to let my parents’ secrets,
whatever they were, stay secret. Anyway, it took a trip into the basement of St. Sophia’s—
and a shot of magic from one of the bad guys—to trigger my
own magic. Firespell. To be honest, I’d been an Adept for only a few weeks, and I
was still fuzzy on the details. But firespell had something
to do with light and power—manipulating it and throwing it
back at the bad guys. And that’s exactly how I’d ended up with firespell—a shot
from Sebastian Born. He might have been tall, dark, and
handsome, but he was also a Reaper. A teenager who refused
to give up his magic when the time came—and it came for
everyone—and who now spent his time recruiting kids the
older Reapers could feed from. As it turns out, magic’s only a temporary gift. We have it
for only a few years, from puberty to age twenty-five or
so. After that, the magic begins to degrade you, to devour
your soul like some kind of rangy tentacle monster. As Adepts, we promise to give up our magic, to give it back
to the universe before it turns us into soul-suckers.
Reapers don’t. And in order to keep their suddenly hungry
power from devouring them from the inside out, they have to
feed from the souls of Adepts or humans. So, yeah. Reapers—or, as they called themselves, the Dark
Elite—weren’t going to win any congeniality awards. That put us pretty squarely against each other, like a
football rivalry but with much higher stakes. So by day, we
were high school juniors—wearing our plaid uniforms, doing
our homework, ignoring our brattier classmates, and wishing
we were in a public high school without a two-hour
mandatory study hall. And by night, we were dueling Adepts. Scout suddenly sighed, a long, haggard breath that made her
entire body shudder. She still looked a little pale, and
she still had blue circles under her eyes. A wounded Adept. These were the scars leftover from her own experience with
the Reapers. She’d been kidnapped and her room ransacked,
and it had been me and the other Junior Varsity Adepts from
Enclave Three—and very little help from the Varsity Adepts,
the college-age kids—that had fought to get her back from
the Reaper sanctuary where Jeremiah, the baddest of the
baddies, had begun the process of stripping away her soul. It was days before she could sleep without nightmares,
nearly a week before she was mostly back to her old self.
But I still saw shadows from her time in the sanctuary—
those moments when she disappeared into herself, when her
mind was pulled back into the empty spot the Reapers had
created. Regardless, she was here now. We’d gotten her back. Not everyone was so lucky. Sometimes we discovered too late
that a Reaper had been befriending someone, too late for
Adepts, friends, family, coaches, or teachers to pull him
or her back from the brink. Sometimes, fighting the good fight meant losing a battle or
two. That was a hard lesson at almost-sixteen. “Lils, any thoughts about running away and joining a
circus?” I smiled over at Scout. “Are we talking pink poodles and
clowns stuffed into a car, or creepy freak show?” Scout snorted. “Since it’s us, probably freak show. We
could travel around the country from city to city, putting
up one of those giant red-and-white striped tents and
sleeping in a silver trailer shaped like a bullet.” She
slid me a knowing glance. “You could bring along your own
personal freak show.” This time, it wasn’t just the sun that heated my
cheeks. “He’s not my freak show.” “He’d like to be.” “Whatever. And he’s not a freak show.” I glanced around to
make sure we were alone. “He’s a werewolf.” “Close enough. The point is, he’d be your werewolf if you
let him.” It was the “letting him” that was the hard part. Jason
Shepherd, the resident werewolf of Enclave Three, was
definitely interested. He was sixteen years old and, like
Michael Garcia, another Adept with a massive crush on
Scout, was a student at Montclare Academy, St. Sophia’s
brother school. I’d learned Jason had been born in
Naperville, a suburb west of Chicago, listened to whatever
music happened to be on the radio at the time, and was a
devoted White Sox fan. He didn’t like football and loved
pepperoni pizza. And, of course, there was the werewolf
thing. I guess I was interested back, but spending nights fighting
evil didn’t exactly make it easy to get to know a boy. “It’s too soon,” I told her, trying to make my voice sound
as casual as possible. “Besides, you’re the one who warned
me away from him.” “I did do that,” she quietly said. “I just don’t want you
to get hurt.” Problem was, she wouldn’t tell me why she
thought that might happen. She kept saying I needed to hear
it from him, and that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that
made a girl feel comfortable about a boy. “There’s always something,” I whispered. As if on cue, a
grim-looking cloud passed over the sun, a dark streak in
the sky that sang of impending rain. The breeze blew
colder, raising goose bumps on my arms. Scout and I exchanged a glance. “Inside?” I asked. She nodded, then pointed at her shoes. “The glue’s not
waterproof.” Decision made, we gathered up our books and walked back
across the campus’s side lawn and around to the main
building. The school—a former convent—was dark and gothic-
looking, a weird contrast to the rest of the glass-and-
steel architecture in this part of downtown Chicago. That’s what I was thinking when I happened to glance across
the street . . . and saw him. Sebastian Born. He stood on the sidewalk in jeans and a dark polo shirt,
his hands tucked into his pockets. His blue eyes gleamed,
but not like Jason’s eyes gleamed. Jason’s eyes were spring-
bright. Sebastian’s were darker. Deeper. Colder. And those eyes were focused on me. The Reapers obviously knew Scout attended St. Sophia’s,
since they’d kidnapped her from her room. And another
Reaper, Alex, had seen all of us one day in the concrete
thorn garden behind the school. But that didn’t make me any
less weirded out by the fact that Sebastian was standing
across the street, perfectly still, gaze on yours truly. “Lily?” At the sound of my name, I looked back at Scout. Frowning,
she moved toward me. “What is it?” “I think I just saw Sebastian. He was right . . .” By the
time I’d pointed to the spot on the sidewalk where he’d
stood, he was gone. “There,” I finished, wondering if I’d actually seen him, or
if I’d just seen some tourist with the same dark hair and
blue eyes and I’d imagined it was him. I wasn’t crazy about either idea. “Sebastian? Out here? Are you sure?” “I thought so. I mean, I thought he was right there—but
maybe not.” Scout put her hands on her hips and frowned as she scanned
the street. “There’s no sign of him now. I can text Daniel”—
he was the newish leader of Enclave Three—“and let him know
something’s up.” Gaze scanning the street, I shook my head. “That’s okay.
Maybe I imagined it. It was only for a second—maybe I just
saw someone who looks like him.” “Simplest explanation is usually the truth,” she said, then
put an arm around my shoulders. “No more sunshine for you.
You’ve been indoors so much, I think the sun actually makes
you crazy.” “Maybe so,” I absently said. But I had to wonder—was I
losing it, or were the Reapers watching us? # # # I had a dark-haired, blue-eyed boy on my mind. This was a bad idea for two reasons. First, I was in European history class, and said dark-
haired boy wasn’t a king or soldier or historical figure of
any type. Second, the boy I’d been talking to was definitely not dark-
haired. The boy, of course, was Sebastian. And the obsession? I
don’t know. I’m sure he was on my mind in part because I’d
(maybe?) just seen him. But it also felt like we had
unfinished business. In a couple of glances and whispered
instructions, Sebastian had taught me how to use firespell—
that it wasn’t about controlling the power, but trusting
the power enough to let it control me. It was about letting
the power move, instead of trying to move the power. But why had he helped me? He was a Reaper, and I was an
Adept, and at the time we’d been trying to rescue Scout and
escape the Reaper sanctuary. There was no reason for him to
help me, which made the act that much stranger . . . and
meaningful? “Ms. Parker.” I mean, not only had he helped me, but he’d helped me in
the middle of a battle against him and his Reaper friends.
Was there a chance he was really . . . good? “Ms. Parker.” Finally hearing my name, I slammed my elbow on the top of
my desk as I bolted upright and glanced up at Mr. Forrest,
our civics teacher. “Yes? Sorry?” The classroom burst into snickers, most of it from the
three members of St. Sophia’s resident brat pack: Veronica,
Mary Katherine, and Amie. Veronica was the queen bee, a
blonde Gossip Girl wannabe currently wearing a pair of
thousand-dollar designer ballet flats and at least a couple
of pounds of gold around her neck. Veronica and I had tried
being friends one Sunday afternoon after I’d first seen my
Darkening—a mark on my lower back that pegged me as an
Adept. I had been in denial about my new magic, and in the
middle of a misunderstanding with Scout, so I’d offered
Veronica a shot as best friend. She didn’t make the grade. M.K. was the haughtiest of the crew. Today she was dressed
like a goth-prep mash-up—a navy shirt and cardigan over her
plaid skirt; knee-high navy socks; and black platform heels
with lots of straps. Her long hair was tied in long braids
with navy ribbon, and her lips were outlined in dark
lipstick. Amie was the quiet one—the type who seemed to go along to
get along. She was also a roommate, sharing a suite with
Scout, me, and a cello-playing, mostly quiet girl named
Lesley Barnaby. “Is class a little too difficult for you today, Parker?”
M.K. snickered. “Since you were apparently absorbed in your own thoughts,”
Forrest said, “anything you’d like to share with the class?” “Um, I was just”—I glanced up at the scribbled text that
filled the whiteboard at the front of the room and tried to
make sense of it—“I was just . . . thinking about
federalism.” More snickering, probably deserved. I swear I was smart,
even if I was still adjusting to the run-all-night, study-
all-day schedule. “And did you reach any conclusions about federalism, Ms.
Parker?” Deer in headlights, much? “Well,” I slowly said, trying to
buy time to get my mental gears moving, “it was really
important to the founding of the country and . . . whatnot.” There was silence until Peters huffed out a sound of
intellectual irritation and looked around the room. “Does
anyone have anything more enlightening to add to the
conversation?” Veronica popped a hand into the air. “Ms. Lively. Can you contribute to our conversation?” “Actually, I need to make an announcement to the class.” He looked suspicious. “About what?” “Well,” Veronica said, “regarding our upcoming girls-only
health education class, if you get my drift.” Forrest’s cheeks flushed pink. He nodded, then cleared his
throat, and after tapping some papers together on the
podium, headed for the door. “For tomorrow,” he said on the
way, “finish chapter two.” With Forrest on his way out, Veronica rose and moved to the
podium, Amie beside her. Veronica tucked her hair behind
her ear, her gaze on the door until Forrest was out of the
room. As soon as it clicked closed, she turned her
attention to us. “It’s time to begin planning our annual holiday
festivities.” The girls began to hoot like boys at a frat party. I
glanced back at Scout, who rolled her eyes and propped her
hand on her chin. I have to admit, I was mostly relieved I
wasn’t going to have to listen to Veronica drone on about
sex ed. I mean, surely St. Sophia’s could afford an actual
teacher for that kind of thing. “And when I say holiday, I obviously mean this year’s
Halloween Sneak. As you know, it’s up to the junior class
to plan the Sneak. This year’s theme will be Glam
Graveyard.” “Gravestones and glitter,” Amie added. “Precisely,” Veronica said. “Our first planning committee
meeting will be tomorrow. You can sign up on the sheet
outside the door. Weirdoes need not apply,” she snarkily
added, haughty gaze pinpointed at Scout. “She’s just so high school,” Scout muttered behind me. I
bit back a smile. “Anyone interested in the planning committee has to swear
not to squeal about the location of the Sneak, because the
final location won’t be revealed to the rest of the class
until it’s time to go. Any questions?” M.K. raised a hand. “Will there be boys there?” Veronica smiled smugly. “We’re playing sister school to
Montclare Academy again.” That smug look on her face worried me. Jason went to
Montclare, but I wasn’t so much worried about him. Michael,
however, was a different matter. While Michael had a
pretty big crush on Scout, she was playing very hard to
get. Veronica, on the other hand, seemed determined to
take her place. Veronica had made a point of asking Scout
about Michael one day, hinting around that she had a thing
for him. The interest was understandable. Michael was totally cute.
Dark, curly hair. Big brown eyes. A huge smile that was
impossible to ignore . . . unless you were Scout Green. She
managed pretty well. Of course, if Scout didn’t ask
Michael, technically he was fair game. The bell rang. Veronica made a little curtsy before she
and Amie were joined by M.K., and they headed out the door.
I waited for Scout to gather up her books. “So,” I began, “exactly how uncool would it be if I wanted
to be on the Sneak committee?” Scout pulled her messenger bag over her shoulder and gave
me a sideways glance. “Purposefully involve yourself in
brat drama? Why would you want to do that?” “Decorating and design and stuff is right up my alley,” I
reminded her. “My art studio hasn’t started yet, and I
really need a creative outlet, even if it does involve the
brat pack.” “Don’t you already have a creative outlet?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not sure I’d call what we
do ‘creative.’” “Have you ever done it before?” “Well, no.” Scout grinned at me. “Then it’s creative.” Drama notwithstanding, I concluded I was going it alone on
the planning committee front. But as we walked down the
hall toward our lockers, I decided to try something else
Scout might be interested in. “Do you think Veronica asked
him?” “Asked who?” She sounded completely unconcerned, but I knew
her better than that. “I know your real first name, Scout. Don’t make me use it.” “Fine, fine. Don’t have a conniption. Yeah, she probably
asked Garcia. Or she will, if she hasn’t already. It’s just
the kind of thing she’d do.” “Maybe he wants to ask you.” “Then it serves him right for waiting,” she muttered. I slid her a glance. “So if he asks you, you’ll say yes?” “Just because I don’t trip over him every time he comes
into the room doesn’t mean I don’t, you know, appreciate
him.” “I knew it,” I said, a grin breaking out. “I knew you had a
thing for him. So, are you going to tell him? Are you two
going to start dating? Officially, I mean? This is huge.” “Pump the brakes,” she warned, heading into the bay where
our fancy wooden lockers were located. “Pump the brakes, or
I tell Amie you want decorating advice. You’ll have to wear
shades just to sleep in your room.” Virtually everything in Amie’s room was an eye-scarring
shade of Barbie pink. “Now, that’s just rude.” “I’m not above rude, Parker. You keep that in mind.” I took her word for it, which is why I snuck back alone to
sign up for the Sneak committee. An artist had to do what
an artist had to do, right?
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