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Clarion Call

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About The Book

Neve faces her vengeful cousin, the leader of the legions of hell, forcing her to decide where her loyalties truly lie in this thrilling sequel to Ravensong that’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Celtic mythology.

Neve and her sisters failed in protecting the mortal world against the legions of hell when the Veil they had spent their lives guarding split and the vengeful cousin they forgot ever existed, Aodh, managed to slip through. Dangerous and bitter, Aodh is on a mission to free the rest of their family still trapped behind the veil and set them loose on the mortal world.

Still injured from her last battle, Neve is not only working to track Aodh, but also trying to navigate painful memories that keep rising to the surface. Memories of her past lifetimes protecting the Gate…and of her first life, before she and her sisters scrubbed it from their minds. More questions arise when a new family member reveals themself, someone Neve and her sisters have been missing. Someone who might just be able to save them all.

Neve must face the sins of her past while navigating the dangers of the present. The more she remembers, the more it seems like everything she was raised to believe was a lie, and the fallout might decimate everything she has worked so hard to build in the present, including her relationship with Alexandria.

Caught between humanity and divinity, the past and the present, Neve must try to strike a balance between the warring forces both within and without, because if she doesn’t, it might not just be her relationship at stake, but the whole world.


No one would think that the girl bleeding out on the rocky beach was a god. They might think she was in some kind of horrible accident—a fall, maybe, from the high cliff above onto the shore below. Though that wouldn’t explain why the blood pouring out of a massive wound in her midsection was a distinct, shimmering blue.

The funny thing was that they—the human observer unlucky enough to watch the elder Morgans, Mercy and Bay, with Alexandria Kuro’s help, drag Neve’s body through a swirling rift in the cliffside—would be right. Neve Morgan wasn’t a god. She wasn’t human, either, obviously. She was something else. Something worse. Something old and powerful and treacherous.

And now, the girl who wasn’t a god was dying.

Except, no. She couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed.

“Neve Morgan, I love you, and that means you’re not allowed to die!”

As she scraped up the last dregs of her strength, Neve held Alexandria’s order close, as if she could use it as a shield.

It didn’t do much about the blood pouring out of her middle and clumping in the sand like so much spilled ink, or magically heal the gory, soupy mess of her torso, but Neve could pretend. It was something. It had to be something.

“You have to get out of here,” Neve said. Tried to, anyway. What came out was more of a gurgle as a gout of frothy blood spilled out of her mouth, adding to the thin coating of viscera staining her skin.

“Don’t try to talk,” Alexandria urged, and Neve’s focus snapped back to her. Even the muscles in her eyes ached as they fought to keep Alexandria in focus. “Neve, you’re—”

Neve knew what she was. Alexandria didn’t have to say it.

“I’m sorry,” Alexandria whispered, bending to press her forehead against the matted bloody mess of Neve’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I did this.”

Neve’s whole body shuddered, and something lit in her mangled chest. It felt like there was lightning in her veins, cauterizing her wounds every place it touched, because Alexandria was apologizing to her and that was bullshit. It wasn’t Alexandria’s fault—none of this was Alexandria’s fault.

The ground shook beneath her, drawing Neve’s attention back to the Gate, giving her a place to direct the new wellspring of fury. This wasn’t Alexandria’s fault, Neve thought again as she turned her attention to the Hellgate. To where Aodh—her fratricidal piece-of-shit cousin—was about to break free after a thousand years of trying, a thousand years of killing Neve and her sisters over and over and over again. Aodh, who had been haunting Alexandria for years, hunting the Morrigan for lifetimes, and who was about to walk out of the churning mess of magic that used to be the Gate.

After you forgot me, snarled Aodh’s voice in the back of Neve’s head. She’d been hearing it for months and only now knew where it had come from. After you left me behind.

Neve saw the horror dawning on Bay’s face, felt Mercy’s guilt shatter through her even as Mercy’s expression froze over into glacial rage.

“I’m sorry,” Neve tried to say, but there was too much blood where it wasn’t supposed to be and it drowned the words before they could come out of her mouth.

She didn’t want this.

What a stupid, selfish thing to think, especially in this moment, when everything was falling apart.

All Neve had wanted, all she had ever wanted, even before Alexandria, was to be like her sisters. To be their equal. To stand in the sun with them and not be left behind in the shadow of her own ignorance.

Now you know. It was probably her imagination that his voice was getting stronger now, louder, as if the volume was directly linked to his proximity to the Gate. Is it everything you ever wanted?

I didn’t want this, Neve thought desperately, unsure of who she was trying to convince. Herself. Her sisters. Maybe her cousin, too, the version of him that existed within the scraps of her memories. But she’d realized it too late. Now the Gate was open, and the chain that had linked Neve and her sisters lifetime after lifetime had shattered. Neve could feel it, the aching loss of something that had been there for longer than she could remember. The pain should’ve been indistinct among the deluge from her other injuries as her nerves screamed and tore themselves to ragged pieces, but Neve could still feel that hurt in particular, even as the others ran together in a wash of blood and viscera and painpainpainpain.

“We have to shut it!”

Somehow, Alexandria’s voice managed to cut through the noise and stimuli, dragging Neve unwillingly back to the nightmare she’d created.

There was blood on Alexandria’s face that was not hers, on her shirt where Neve had clung to her, and on her hands where she’d helped drag Neve through the Gate.

Stupid, Neve thought. She didn’t know if it was her voice or Aodh’s anymore. They were blurring together in her head. Should have just left me.

“Hey, shut up,” Alexandria said, her gaze snapping suddenly to Neve, who realized a beat too late that she’d spoken aloud. It might have been the blood loss, but in the haze of her dimming vision, Alexandria looked a little like she was glowing.

She also looked pissed.

“You don’t get to talk like that, okay?” Alexandria said heatedly. “So shut up and focus on not dying.”

Neve wasn’t even sure she could manage that much, but Alexandria’s attention had moved back to Mercy and Bay.

“How do we close it?” she asked, the severity in her voice giving way to naked desperation.

They didn’t know.

Neve knew that without having to see the look that passed between her sisters. This was so beyond anything they had been raised to believe, beyond everything they had prepared for. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, none of it.

Neve watched as the look of hopelessness turned into something else. Normally, she could have understood the silent conversation that passed between her sisters in a matter of seconds, but Neve’s mind was too blurry with pain and fear, and it happened too quickly for her to parse. But then tears spilled down Bay’s cheeks, and Mercy gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t even look back, but Neve felt her sisters’ determination burn in her own chest. Adrenaline burst afresh, her body reacting to a decision they made without her. But before she could do anything—manage to stand, shout at them to stop—Mercy and Bay tore off down the beach.

“What are you—?” Alexandria yelled after them, but they were already gone.

Behind her, the waves pounded against the sharp sand that dug into Neve’s knees and shins as she fought her way to her feet. Lightning split the sky, staving off the darkness of the storm long enough for Neve to see with perfect clarity the moment her sisters plunged back through the portal.

Like it was something hungry that had been sated, the churning bruise-purple maw of the Gate stilled. The instinctive part of Neve that knew magic, that felt it in her blood and all around her, quieted too.

Neve had been wrong before. There was enough strength left in her to scream. It wasn’t a proper warscream, not even close, just a human sound of shock and panic that ripped out of her throat. Distantly, in the part of her that was still connected to her body, she felt the force dislodge something in her torso. Her insides felt more or less liquified, sloshing around in the punctured mess of flesh that was the rest of her body.

Then the Gate was still and Neve was screaming because what the hell else was she supposed to do? Her sisters were gone. They had left; they had left her behind.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute—though it felt like much, much longer—when Neve’s voice quit on her again. Without the sound of her own scream echoing in her ears, Neve could hear frantic voices somewhere behind her. She recognized them, categorized them as safe, and let them fade to the background as the whole of her remaining focus narrowed on the place where her sisters had been swallowed up by the Gate. She couldn’t look away.

Thunder rolled overhead, and the storm that had been threatening finally broke.


She heard the voice calling her name and dismissed it, letting it fall into the ringing in her ears that might have been a symptom of head trauma or a panic attack or both.

Stabbing her sword into the sand like it was the world’s pointiest walking stick, Neve staggered toward the Gate. She moved at a glacial pace, barely able to force her legs to hold her. Every step made her nerves scream in agony and shred themselves anew, but Neve wasn’t in her body at the moment. She was somewhere above and to the left of it, a guiding force. The only thing that felt real was the ringing in her ears and the certainty that she needed to keep moving, she needed to follow Mercy and Bay.

“Stop.” The part of her that was aware of her body, whatever bit of herself that was still in the driver’s seat, felt the pressure of a hand on her arm. Gentle at first and then firm. Halting her progress. “Neve, you have to stop!”

“No.” The voice that clawed its way out of her throat didn’t sound like hers. It was barely a croak, halfway choked with blood. “They’re in there. I have to get them…. I have to—”

“You can’t!” Alexandria’s face solidified somewhat in Neve’s vision, despite her best efforts not to see anything but the Gate in front of her. “Neve, stop. Please, you’re killing yourself.”

Tears cut clean tracks down the grime and blood on Alexandria’s face, and Neve was sorry for it. She was also completely out of her fucking mind.

“Open it,” Neve rasped.


“You did it before,” Neve rambled. She wasn’t entirely sure the words were making it out of her mouth, and if they were, there was a nonzero chance they were the wrong ones, but the look of horror on Alexandria’s face indicated that she understood what Neve was asking.

“I can’t.” Alexandria shook her head. She looked like she wanted to step away, put distance between them, but gritted her teeth and stayed put.

“You did,” Neve insisted. “You already did once. Do it again.”


“They’re in there,” Neve said raggedly. She thought she might be crying, but she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her cheeks was from blood or tears. “Please, you have to. I can’t… I—please. Alexandria, please,” Neve begged.

“I don’t know if it will work,” Alexandria said. “I don’t know… I don’t know anything.”

Neve didn’t care. Alexandria was the key; Aodh had said so himself. She’d opened the Gate from the inside, and Neve had seen how the things within it had been drawn to her, even when the Gate was otherwise quiet.

She thought of the monster that had emerged from the Gate on a different night, during a different storm, when Alexandria had pressed her hand against the stone.

Neve looked at Alexandria with renewed desperation. Neve couldn’t do this on her own—she didn’t think she could do this at all. It had taken five humans and a centuries-old spell to open the Gate from their side specifically because Neve couldn’t open it on her own.

“Please,” Neve asked again.

Her mouth pressing into a thin, miserable line, Alexandria squared her shoulders. She stepped within arm’s reach of the Gate, which had gone nearly dormant and looked like an ordinary stone wall again, but the spell didn’t rekindle. The portal didn’t spring back to life.

“No,” Neve said. She shook her head and even that small motion sent pain rattling down her spine. The burst of panic and adrenaline that had kept her upright this long was fading.

Mercy and Bay were gone. Just gone. Neve couldn’t feel them anymore; there was just a hollow place behind her heart that felt like it was going to swallow her whole.

“Neve, I’m—” Alexandria started before she cut herself off with a scream.

Neve didn’t have any forewarning. One minute the Gate was very nearly closed, her metaphysical awareness of it dwindling to almost nothing, and the next it sprang back to seething life. The force of it nearly bowled her over, but Neve clenched her hands around the hilt of her sword and managed to keep her feet.

Alexandria shouted something, or tried to, before a single pale hand tore itself free of the sludgy swirl of the portal.

Without thinking, Neve lunged forward, forgoing her sword altogether to grab at the hand. She clasped it tight between both of her own and pulled as hard as she could. She could feel the spell recoiling, whether from her presence or because the Gate wanted to keep its prize, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. With strength she did not have to spare, Neve pulled.

She could feel the Gate fighting against her. It was winning. She wasn’t strong enough.

She was going to lose them.

“On three!” Alexandria shouted, clasping her hands over Neve’s. “One… two…!”

They pulled together for a second that dragged out into infinity, until Neve was sure the Gate was going to close on them again. But then she felt the tiniest bit of give.

She and Alexandria pulled, inch by inexorable inch, until the Gate’s polarity seemed to flip completely and the force they fought against vanished.

Neve collapsed into an ungainly pile of limbs, blood flooding out of her body afresh as her wounds were jarred by the fall.

“Oh no,” Alexandria said with horror in her voice, a second before Neve’s vision cleared enough to see that the person they’d pulled out of the Gate wasn’t Bay or Mercy.

Aodh stood shakily, one hand thrown out to the now-solid portal for balance. The gloating triumph in his face faded as he looked back at the Gate, which had closed decisively behind him.

“What did you do?” Aodh demanded, his voice pitched high. If Neve hadn’t known better, she might have thought that he was scared. She couldn’t fathom why; he’d gotten what he wanted.

Before Neve could pull her wits back together into some semblance of rational thought—or at the very least, manage to drown out the high-pitched screaming inside her head—a blast like lightning exploded a hair’s breadth away from Aodh’s head.

“Get the hell away from them.”

Neve knew the look of Aoife’s magic and recognized the unyielding steel of Maeve’s voice, but neither was a comfort.

The expression on Aodh’s face calcified into a sneer, his gray eyes flashing as he took in the newcomers. Calculating his odds. Neve recognized the look because she’d worn it herself a hundred times.

With one last look at the Gate, Aodh snarled and ran. Part of Neve wanted to scream for someone to go after him, to insist that he not get away. The rest of her was just screaming, a high, terrible noise that rang through her blood, her bones, through the terrible empty space in her chest.

“Neve.” She blinked and Clara’s face swam before her own. “Neve, baby, what happened?”

It was only then Neve realized the keening noise wasn’t just inside her head but coming out of her mouth as well, a wordless, pathetic whine.

“They’re gone.” The words coagulated on her tongue. She wasn’t sure how she was still conscious. She wasn’t sure of anything except the numb, creeping horror that had taken root behind her heart. Neve’s blurred, white-wreathed gaze slid behind Clara as if she weren’t there and fixed on the last place she’d seen Bay and Mercy before they vanished. “They’re gone.”

About The Author

Photo courtesy of the author

Cayla Fay is a coastal New England local, D&D enthusiast, and believer in the power of black lipstick. They have a JD from Suffolk University and BA from Fordham University. When not writing, she spends her days walking her shih tzu, Charlie, listening to way too many podcasts, and exploring the defiantly tangled streets of Boston. Cayla is the author of Ravensong and Clarion Call.

Product Details

  • Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers (February 6, 2024)
  • Length: 352 pages
  • ISBN13: 9781665905329
  • Ages: 12 - 99

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