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“Steps?” I spoke, but I wasn’t really all there. How could I be? The man I loved was dead on the floor. But my love was a curse, a burden for crimes I didn’t recall.

“Oh,” Ansin added, “and congratulations. He is a beautiful boy. Will make a good addition to my arsenal someday. Or a lord of Seers. We’ll see who wins.”

What did he mean by that?

The infant in my arms began to cry, and I screamed at the top of my lungs at the body on the floor, “King! Wake up! You can’t go!”

But he could and he had. King was dead.

TO BE CONTINUED


Tags: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Paranormal