I don’t even know what kind of shit I inherited. It’s not like there was a “So You’re the Last Daughter and Everyone’s Counting on You: No Pressure” guidebook waiting on my pillow the next morning.
Just Iain muttering warnings. Ezra watching me like I might explode. And Louie trying to fight every sound she can’t identify.
For all I know, one of my ancestors used her magic to find ripe avocados. Or towhisper at bees.
My legacy is magical apian diplomacy.
Amazing.
I can’t shift. I can’t conjure hellfire.
But if we ever find ourselves in a pollen-based crisis?
I’ve got us covered.
Truly, the legacy of a warrior queen.
But … I think Ezra knew.
Maybe not the full truth, but the edges of it.
He’s heard the stories, the old ones, long buried.
The kind you laugh off when you’re young and immortal.
The Last Daughter.
A myth so old even monsters stopped believing in it.
And now I’m supposed to be her. Lucky me.
I’ve been at this for over a week, and nothing is working.
I can’t shift into my magical form at will, I can’t call onormanipulate hellfire, and the persuasion magic is usable but terrifying. The way Louie’s eyes glow gold when the magic takes hold makes my skin crawl.
No one should have magic this powerful. It’s … dangerous.
“Dammit,” I mumble to myself, wiping my useless hands on my jeans.
With a heavy sigh, I take a seat on one of the few logs Louie hasn’t scorched during our training sessions.
Given how absurdly massive Ezra’s property is, he set aside a private area where Louie and I can practice wielding our hellfire without endangering anyone or burning down half the Ridge and Valley.
When Louie’s magic came back a few days ago, she tore through the woods in her hound form, leaving scorched trees and flaming wreckage in her wake. After she accidentally torched an abandoned building just outside of town, Ezra insisted we keep our practice confined to his property.
I run my hands down my face and realize that, for the first time in over two weeks, Ezra isn’t orbiting me like a moody planet whose natural resources are orgasms and shadows.
I know that shouldn’t matter, but it does.
He’s been a constant presence since fate hijacked my life and whispered, “Let’s get weird,” hovering just close enough to remind me that, whatever happens, I won’t face it alone.
And yet, when I look around … there’s no one.
No Ezra. No Louie.
Just me, my broken-ass magic, and the petty bitch lurking in my skull.
Determined to overcome the negative thoughts swirling in my head, I force myself to stand up and get back to work. I will my magical body to obey me, just this once—only for Emme to cackle in the dark recesses of my mind. While I mentally scream at her to shut the fuck up, the air thickens, charged with a menacing energy that paralyzes me with fear.
