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That’s why the men wished to control us, to use our magic because it’s superior to their own.
I have one more target to find, but I stop when I spot three shadows in the distance.
Three vampires.
They’re watching me and their forms don’t quite line up how they should. Dark wisps writhe around them and one of them has brutally green eyes that seem to pierce through the dark.
The other two have distinguishing features as well. One has strange face paint that reminds me of a gothic skeleton, but it’s not makeup.
It’s his magic.
It’s sucking in all the chaos around him, drawing it in like a void at the center of a galaxy.
His body draws in death—his soul a link to the afterlife.
And the other gleams with dark silk as if his skin is made of velvet.
He communes with death, too, and is completely comfortable with it.
I’m not sure who the three men are, but there’s a connection that tells me I will one day.
So I let them watch, because there’s one more task to complete.
My father.
I can’t see him in the mass of chaos, but I work a spell to locate him. It’s easy enough. All I have to do is tell my magic to find my own blood.
It spears in two directions, one of them weak and far away.
That one is my sister. The other leads to my parents.
I fear for my mother, but I head toward the street where my house is.
It’s at least a fifteen-minute walk and my legs are tired by the time I reach it. The bloodshed is far behind me, but all of the death has given me a boost.
I’ll be able to overcome my father’s defenses—but I’ll only get one shot at this.
Rolling back my shoulders, I enter my childhood home. The winding staircase is something I never get to scale, but I do today.
I take my time going up each step, letting my bare feet slap against the expensive metal.
Then I’m in a hallway that feels unfamiliar, but simply because I’m only allowed in the basement.
No more.
Never again will I be so suppressed and hidden.
My mother’s scream makes me hurry and I burst through a cracked door to find I’m too late.
The blood drains from my face as I take in my mother on the ground with a thick black line drawn across her throat.
A beheading spell.
Her eyes are wild and furious—not weak and submissive like I’m used to.
Fallon had done something to free the women of my coven. Even our mother.
But she wasn’t enough to stand up against our father. Her husband towers over her and seems to gloat as he juts out his chin. “Useless woman,” he snarls, then spits on the ground.
