She slipped through the doorway and into
the foyer. She could breathe again. She passed into the main room,
then up to the second floor. A group sat in the largest room in
mid-discussion. Malachi, the wolf shifter who ran the parish, led
the group.
“We can’t let the vampires govern the
world,” Malachi said. “It’s not right.”
“Vampires being in charge of everything
might not be right, but it’s the rule of the land,” a man she didn’t
know said.
She shuddered and kept going. Vampires. The
humans thought they were so great. They were considered scary, but
hauntingly beautiful. Right. They’d been venerated. Jesus. The
vampires had used their magnetism to convince the humans to hand
over control. How beautiful were they now? The Fae King was dead,
the humans were food and shifters were banned. If there were any Fae
left, she didn’t know and hadn’t seen them. But everyone had
initially claimed they were living their best life with the vampires
in charge?
She removed her scarf and made her way to
the bedrooms. Most were full, but sometimes she’d luck out. Maybe
she’d even snag a few hours of sleep—if she found an empty room. She
knocked on the door. “Hello?” She knocked again. “Hello?”
“It’s empty.” A girl with fiery red hair
smiled, but never met her eyes. She ducked into another room.
“Thanks,” Sabra called. She turned the
handle. When she entered the room, she flicked her fingers. A spark
shot off her fingertips. Her heart leapt. She’d created some magic.
Even if it had lasted only a moment, she’d done it. Glitter remained
on her fingertips, but the more she tried to recreate the magic,
nothing happened. Hope blossomed in her heart. The magic might not
be dead.
She collapsed on the mattress. Part of her
wanted to fiddle with the magic again and attempt to stretch her
wings. The rest of her gave in to the bone-deep weariness. She
needed to sleep. The vampires had used too much of her blood and if
she didn’t recharge, she’d die.
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