“All magic comes with a cost, even for the seer,” Sam, the lead vampire, said. Disdain caused his angular face to wrinkle. He could have been a rejected extra from The Lost Boys, a cult vampire ’80s movie. Leather? Check. Glassy bugged-out eyes? Check. Hairband punk mullet? Check.
A part of me wished only to chuckle at how ludicrous it appeared.
“What are you doing here?” Sunflower asked, her voice slurred.
I watched her hand move toward the athame, the ceremonial knife, which rested only an arm’s reach away.
“The grimoire called us, and we came.” Suddenly, the lead vampire had Sunflower in his clutches, and before I could respond, he bit into her neck.
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