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Charlotte Bond she was finally alone, she bent over to inspect her left leg. Running a hand down her calf, she traced the pain back to its source on her heel where she saw a set of perfect bite marks. She could see that Demetrius had barely broken the skin, which made sense if his bite had not woken her. Yet Alana knew it would be enough. He lied, she thought. He wasn’t sent to kill me. His words ran through her mind again: The only skills in such magic are preparation and deception. Such an illusion is prepared, possibly even completed, before you even announce yourself to your audience. The only task remaining is then to conceal that fact until the finale Wandering over to a set of drawers, Alana rummaged around until she found a pair of her mother’s socks. She slipped them on. They were far too large but they warmed her cold feet. She went back to sit on the bed. ‘I’m going to grow up to be a werewolf,’ she whispered to herself. ‘And I’m going to be a werewolf hunter as well.’ The thought which followed in her mind chilled her to the bone: if Father lets me grow up at all. Copyright © Charlotte Bond 2008

Julian - A Christmas Story : Copyright © Edward Miller 2006

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Estronomicon Christmas 2008  

The eZine of fantasy, sci-fi and horror

Estronomicon Christmas 2008  

The eZine of fantasy, sci-fi and horror

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