Based on perhaps the richest surviving archive of witchcraft trials to be found in Europe, The Witches of Lorraine reveals the extraordinary stories held within those documents. They paint a vivid picture of life amongst the ordinary people of a small duchy on the borders of France and the Holy Roman Empire, and allow a very close analysis of the beliefs, social tensions, and behavior patterns underlying popular attitudes to witchcraft. Intense persecution occurred in the period 1570-1630, but the focus of this book is more on how suspects interacted with their neighbors over the years preceding their trials. One of the mysteries is why people were so slow to use the law to eliminate these supposedly vicious and dangerous figures. Perhaps the most striking and unexpected conclusion is that witchcraft was actually perceived as having strong therapeutic possibilities; once a person was identified as the cause of a sickness, they could be induced to take it off again. Other aspects studied include the more fantastic beliefs in sabbats, shapeshifting, and werewolves, the role of the devins or cunning-folk, and the characteristics attributed to the significant proportion of male witches. This regional study makes a vital contribution to historical understanding of one of the most dramatic phenomena in early modern Europe, and to witchcraft studies as a whole, as well as illuminating related topics in social and religious history.

Laurel Fabre has just discovered she's a witch, but she's not just any witch, she's a daughter of the Thirteen. Her mother dared to break a pact with the devil and Laurel will pay the price. Now she's on the run from all dark creatures, demons, vampires, and even other witches. Her only chance at survival may be the Prince of Hell's half human son, Marcos St. Clare. He's dark, sexy and the most dangerous man she's ever met, but he's also her one chance to escape Hell and preserve her soul. From a distance, he watched as Laurel grew into a stunning beauty. He longed to hold her, to kiss her, to protect her from all who would destroy her, but to save Laurel, Marcos must overcome his own dark nature.

This handbook is currently in development, with individual articles publishing online in advance of print publication. At this time, we cannot add information about unpublished articles in this handbook, however the table of contents will continue to grow as additional articles pass through the review process and are added to the site. Please note that the online publication date for this handbook is the date that the first article in the title was published online.

Imagining the Witch explores emotions, gender, and selfhood through the lens of witch-trials in early modern Germany. Witch-trials were clearly a gendered phenomenon, but witchcraft was not a uniquely female crime. While women constituted approximately three quarters of those tried for witchcraft in the Holy Roman Empire, a significant minority were men. Witchcraft was also a crime of unbridled passion: it centred on the notion that one person's emotions could have tangible and deadly physical consequences. Yet it is also true that not all suspicions of witchcraft led to a formal accusation, and not all witch-trials led to the stake. Indeed, just over half the total number put on trial for witchcraft in early modern Europe were executed. In order to understand how early modern people imagined the witch, we must first begin to understand how people understood themselves and each other; this can help us to understand how the witch could be a member of the community, living alongside their accusers, yet inspire such visceral fear. Through an examination of case studies of witch-trials that took place in the early modern Lutheran duchy of Württemberg in southwestern Germany, Laura Kounine examines how the community, church, and the agents of the law sought to identify the witch, and the ways in which ordinary men and women fought for their lives in an attempt to avoid the stake. The study further explores the visual and intellectual imagination of witchcraft in this period in order to piece together why witchcraft could be aligned with such strong female stereotypes on the one hand, but also be imagined as a crime that could be committed by any human, whether young or old, male or female. By moving beyond stereotypes of the witch, Imagining the Witch argues that understandings of what constituted witchcraft and the 'witch' appear far more contested and unstable than has previously been suggested. It also suggests new ways of thinking about early modern selfhood which moves beyond teleological arguments about the development of the 'modern' self. Indeed, it is the trial process itself that created the conditions for a diverse range of people to reflect on, and give meaning, to emotions, gender, and the self in early modern Lutheran Germany.

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