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Writer's pictureCelia McMahon

In Every Generation: blog tour/excerpt




I am sp happy to be hosting a spot on the IN EVERY GENERATION by Kendare Blake Blog Tour
hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!


Kendare Blake is the New York Times bestselling author of several novels and short stories. Her work is sort of dark, always violent, and features passages describing food from when she writes while hungry. She was born in July in Seoul, South Korea, but doesn’t speak a lick of Korean, as she was packed off at a very early age to her adoptive parents in the United States.

That might be just an excuse, though, as she is pretty bad at learning foreign languages. She
lives and writes in Gig Harbor, Washington, with her husband, their cat son Tyrion Cattister, red Doberman dog son Obi-Dog Kenobi, rottie mix dog daughter Agent Scully, and naked Sphynx cat son Armpit McGee.









Title: IN EVERY GENERATION (Volume 1)
Author: Kendare Blake
Pub. Date: January 4, 2022
Publisher: Disney-Hyperion
Formats: Hardcover, eBook, audiobook
Pages: 400


A new Slayer for a new generation...

Frankie Rosenberg is passionate about the environment, a sophomore at New Sunnydale High
School, and the daughter of the most powerful witch in Sunnydale history. Her mom, Willow, is
slowly teaching her magic on the condition that she use it to better the world. But Frankie’s
happily quiet life is upended when new girl Hailey shows up with news that the annual Slayer
convention has been the target of an attack, and all the Slayers—including Buffy, Faith, and
Hailey’s older sister Vi—might be dead. That means it’s time for this generation’s Slayer to be
born.

But being the first ever Slayer-Witch means learning how to wield a stake while trying to
control her budding powers. With the help of Hailey, a werewolf named Jake, and a hot but
nerdy sage demon, Frankie must become the Slayer, prevent the Hellmouth from opening
again, and find out what happened to her Aunt Buffy, before she’s next.
Get ready for a whole new story within the world of Buffy!

The first in an all-new series by New York Times best-selling author Kendare Blake continues
the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer featuring the next generation of Scoobies and Slayers
who must defeat a powerful new evil.






PROLOGUE
Vi and Hailey

“Think you bought enough cereal?”

Hailey stood in the kitchen of their small apartment, unloading brown bag aft er brown bag of
the groceries her sister had brought home that morning. Three boxes of cereal—two sugary,
one healthy—three loaves of bread (pop two in the freezer), and three gallons of milk, which
apparently she would have to drink until she died.

“You love cereal,” Vi responded. “You can eat it for every meal.” But she wasn’t really paying
attention. Her domestic duties fulfilled, she had already turned her attention to more
important matters at hand: loading weapons into a gray duffel.

Hailey reached into another grocery bag and pulled out handfuls and handfuls of wieners. 
“Four packs of hot dogs, Vi? Seriously?” 

“You love hot dogs,” Vi replied. “You can eat them for every  meal.” 

“Maybe I can dip them in milk,” Hailey muttered. It was like  this every three months. Before
every Slayerfest (which is what they called the regular gatherings of all the remaining slayers—
and usually including the legendary Buffy Summers), Vi would go  into hyper-overdrive-
abandonment-mom mode. She’d load Hailey  down with healthy food and junk, and triple-
check all the locks on  the windows and door of their cramped two-bedroom apartment  on the
outskirts of The Dalles, Oregon. Even though nothing— absolutely nothing—ever went down in
The Dalles, Oregon. Vi had  to drive all the way to Portland to do any decent slaying, and even 
then she said the vamps were weird: They took their dogs every where and chased victims
down on pedal bikes, and half of them  would only eat vegans. 

Hailey sighed. Pacific Northwest vamps were one of a kind. She turned and watched her older
sister stuff the duffel with  stakes, knives, crosses, and plastic bottles full of holy water. It was 
mostly a waste. The meetings were for training and shoptalk. The  who-died-this-quarter roll
call and the candlelight vigil circle for  whoever did, or whatever. Hailey didn’t know for certain.
She’d  never been allowed to go, even though she’d asked to constantly  in the beginning, when
she first came to live with Vi after their  parents died six years ago. Well . . . her parents. She
and Vi were  half sisters. Hailey was their dad’s from his second marriage. There  wasn’t much
of a family resemblance—Vi was slim-hipped and  narrow-chested, Hailey happily curvaceous.
Vi had a thin, frowning mouth, while Hailey’s lips were made for deep reds and sarcastic 
curling. She’d never really known Vi before the car accident, and  when Vi came to pick Hailey
up after the accident, Hailey’d thought  there’d been a mistake. Until Vi had bent down and
looked her in  the eyes. Both girls had their father’s eyes. 

So off they went, two sisters into the great unknown. Always  on their own, and that had always
been enough. Vi’s mom was still around somewhere, but Vi kept her hidden, for her own
safety. Vi  liked to hide things for their own safety. 

“Don’t you think you should pack other things?” Hailey asked.  “Like underwear and socks?” 
Vi stopped and put her hands on her hips. Already she looked  less like Vi and more like Vi the
Slayer. Vi was lanky and pale. She  walked with a slight hunch and had guarded eyes and a kind
smile.  Vi the Slayer was lithe as a cat. She didn’t walk. She ran. She leapt.  Her eyes were hard
and focused. She cocked her head at her much  younger sister and smiled. “Clothes and stuff
are in my backpack.”  She turned around the room and surveyed the whole apartment.  Final
mental checks before she dashed out the door. “Are you all  set? Food? Beverages? The
internet’s paid up for the next month,  so I don’t want to hear any excuses about falling behind
like last  time—” 

“Last time was summer vacation.” Hailey went to high school  online. Which was a weird way of
putting it. She didn’t “go” to high  school anywhere. She did high school from the middle
cushion of  their couch. 

“Either way, I don’t want you sitting around doing nothing but  reading your comics the whole
time, or traipsing around with those  delinquent friends of yours. . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Before the  Slayerfests, she couldn’t even focus long enough to nag properly. 

“Comics are valid forms of literature with highly developed  themes, characterization, and story
arcs,” Hailey said. “And those  delinquents have names.” 

“Huh?” 

“Never mind. Where is this quarter’s fest anyway?” “Halifax.” 

“Halifax?”

“Well, we fly into Halifax. The actual meeting is at this remote  resort. Cabins in trees or
something.” 

Hailey cocked an eyebrow. The meetings were starting to sound  less like training and more like
retreats. Every slayer in the world  hanging out in a tree house wearing a flannel robe and a
mud mask.  But her only comment was: 

“Long flight.” 

“Some of us are portaling in,” said Vi. “Most of the internationals. With Andrew and the other
Witchers.” 

“He can’t just call them that, you know, just because they’re  Watchers with magic. They lack
the abs. And the white hair.” Vi snorted. “I’ll tell him you said so.” She held her arm out.  “Come
here, kid.” 

Hailey groaned—she was sixteen, not a kid—but she went and  hugged her sister tight. It hadn’t
been easy between them at first;  Hailey’d been an angry ten-year-old, and scared. And Vi—Vi
had  been a young slayer, not even thirty yet, with enough on her hands  trying to keep herself
alive. It had taken time to figure things out.  To become a real family, and a team. 

“Don’t answer the door without looking to see who it is first.” “Duh, I never do.” 

“Don’t go anywhere after dark.” 

“Nothing ever happens here after dark.” 

“Don’t spend all our money at the bookstore.” 

Hailey grinned. “Okay, I promise.” 

Vi let go of her and stared at her for so long that it started to  get weird. 

“What?” Hailey asked, and went back to the couch. “You’re only  going to be gone for a few
days. I don’t know why you think you  have to feed me for two months.” Except she did know
why. Vi  always stocked her up. Just in case she didn’t make it back.

“Well,” Vi said. “The way you eat . . .” She slung her backpack  over her shoulders and reached
down for her duffel bag. When she  bent, the red roots of her hair stood out in a bright line,
growing  out under the dark brown dye. Hailey laughed. 

“We should have dyed our hair again before you left.” “Oh yeah?” Vi touched her head. 
“Yeah. You look like a rooster or something.” Hailey’s own hair  was black naturally, inherited
from her mom, who’d been Canadian  and mixed-race Saulteaux First Nations. Hailey
considered it a  gift—it made her Goth aesthetic one step easier. 

Vi put her hand on the doorknob. 

“I don’t know why you have to go to these anymore anyway,”  Hailey said. “Haven’t slayers ever
heard of teleconferencing?” “Too easy to hack,” Vi said quietly. “Don’t you watch the news?” “I
read the news, Luddite. But even I know that demons can’t  hack.” What had Vi told her? Most
demons and vamps were terrible  with gadgets. Need to figure out if your new boyfriend is a
demon?  FaceTime him. If all you get is thirty seconds of his forehead and  a lot of saying
“What?” then call your big sister to take him out. “You’re a smart kid, Hailey.” 

“I’m not a kid. But yeah, I know.” 

“I’ll see you Monday.” 

Except that Monday came and went. 

Slayerfest had always come and gone, so often and so routinely  that Hailey didn’t bother
keeping track of them anymore. She  should have paid more attention. 

On Tuesday morning, she ignored it and told herself Vi was  fine. By noon, she was googling
reported traffic accidents in and around Halifax. Not long after that, she was pacing and
messaging  Vi every two minutes like a desperate ex. But there was no response.  There’d been
no activity on Vi’s accounts for days, not since a few  photos she posted of her and a few other
slayers hanging out in the  city after their plane landed. 

“It’s because there’s no service in a tree house,” Hailey muttered. The stupid Slayerfests were
always held someplace so remote. She checked her phone again. In her gut, she knew it wasn’t
just  a lack of service. Something was wrong. 

“Screw it.” 

She pulled her backpack out from under her bed and dumped  out the junk she usually kept in
it: a small stack of graphic novels and manga, a couple of makeup bags, three studded leather 
bracelets, and a pair of comfy shoes. Also a notebook and some  pens. Then she put back the
makeup bag with the best eye-shadow  palettes and all the leather bracelets and the shoes.
And after a  moment of consideration, her dog-eared lucky copy of Amulet:  The Stonekeeper
and the volume of My Hero Academia she hadn’t  finished reading yet. The rest of the space
she filled with clothes:  T-shirts and rolled-up jeans. Black leggings. She winced at her eye 
liner in the mirror as she twisted her long black hair into a ragged  ponytail—the liner was
messy and smudged from worry, but she  didn’t care. She’d layered up in a hooded sweatshirt
and was lacing  her boots when someone knocked at the door. 

Vi was her first thought. But that was stupid. Vi had a key. Whoever it was knocked again, and
Hailey tensed. No one in  their apartment complex ever came calling. 

She reached for her backpack and looked out her window. She’d  never had a need to sneak out
of it before, since Vi was gone so  much at night anyway. But she could. Their unit was only on
the  second floor. She could hang and drop.

“Hailey Larsson. You in there?” 

“Yeah . . .” Hailey answered hesitantly. She walked slowly to the  door. It was a man’s voice, and
he knew her name. And she could  guess who he was, by his British accent. 

“It’s . . . Spike,” he called through the wood. 

Spike. Vi’s Watcher. She’d rather it was someone else. Anyone  else. An intruder. A lost delivery
boy. Because if Spike was there  without Vi, it meant that . . . 

She unlocked the door and swung it open and saw him stand ing there. Platinum hair. Black
leather duster. A heavy blanket to  shield him from the sun. And a look of grim relief to see her.

“Hailey,” he said. “We have to talk.”




3 winners will receive a finished copy of IN EVERY GENERATION, US Only.

Week One: 1/1/2022The Reading Devil

Week Two: Excerpt 1/2/2022Kait Plus Books

Excerpt1/3/2022Rajiv's Reviews

Review1/4/2022Nerdophiles

Review1/5/2022Bri's Book Nook

Review1/6/2022The Bookwyrm's Den

Review1/7/2022Stuck in the Stacks

Review1/8/2022onemused

Week Three: Review 1/9/2022A Bookish Dream

Review1/10/2022Celia's Reads-blog

Review1/12/2022Moonlight_rendezvous

Review1/14/2022Lisa Loves Literature

Review1/15/2022Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers Week Four: Review1/16/2022@thebookishfoxwitch

Review1/17/2022My Fictional Oasis

Review1/18/2022Eli to the nth

Review1/19/2022Book-Keeping

Review1/20/2022The Book Review Crew

Review1/21/2022Lexijava

Review1/22/2022Always Me Week Five: Review 1/23/2022Emelie's Books

Review1/24/2022bookbriefs

Review1/25/2022BookHounds YA

Review1/26/2022Reading Wordsmith

Review1/27/2022Thindbooks Blog

Review1/28/2022YA Books Central

Review1/29/2022The Momma Spot Week Six: Review 1/30/2022popthebutterfly

Review1/31/2022@drewsim12

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