Page 57 of Marked By His Hunger
“Aye, water for me too,” Sapphire added.
Ursula chatted excitedly about her family history with Runevald.
Founded in 1666.
Multiples of three sacred.
Runes aligned to cosmic cycles.
I tried to follow.
Tried to look normal.
“It’s no biggie. Most of the Earth females who come here are Witches,” Dietrich said and shrugged.
“I’m not a Witch,” I said quietly.
Three heads turned.
“At least, I don’t think I am.”
Sapphire frowned slightly. “Hmm. Sometimes I can get a read on people, but your magic feels muted.”
“Muted?”
“As though something is blocking it,” she confirmed.
And that sent a cold ripple through me.
Blocking?
What was blocked?
What was trying to surface?
“Um, so, Werewolves are real?” I asked weakly, trying to change the subject.
Sapphire smiled faintly.
“Yes! Among other things. Like our friends here,” Ursula said and smirked.
Dietrich returned with drinks and resumed his interrogation.
“Are you hiding something, little American?”
The walls seemed to lean inward.
Spectres gathered along the rafters.
They always came when my emotions spiked.
Always.
I knocked into the table.
Water sloshed.
Embarrassment flared.
