bay.
The magical fences worked well, but every once in a while, a creature was powerful enough to pound its way through.
The barrier I’d created was thicker than the usual—thanks to the target painted on my back by carrying the Shifter name. My family had spent generations mowing down paranormal bad guys, so the list of enemies was as long as it was diverse. As such, I’d wrapped my home in layers of magical landmines just in case something got a wild hair to come after me. They weren’t perfect, but they were better than any home security system on the market when it came to dealing with supernatural invaders.
In the five years since I’d moved into my townhouse, the perimeter had been breached only once. The vampling—a small but powerful hitman—had been hired by a cut-rate slaver guild from the Underground to take out anyone in the Shifter family.
Apparently the vampling had figured I was an easier target than my Councilman father and Huntress mother—he showed up unarmed. Unfortunately for him, his brains weren’t on par with his brawn, so his powers had been sucked dry breaking into my house. By the time he’d made it into my living room, he couldn’t have stopped a NERF dart, much less the .45 caliber slugs I pumped into his skull. And once Dad pieced together who’d sent him, that guild was never heard from again.
But even though the defensive layer had served its purpose, the violation of my home had me feeling exposed for months afterward.
Setting my scotch down, that sensation came back with a vengeance.
What spooked me even more was that as I sensed the barrier, it felt fully intact. If something had snuck in, they’d have left a trail similar to a bull in a china shop. Whatever had slipped through had done so by maneuvering through the layers like a wraith and had done so without tripping any of the alarms.
Raw power was one thing, but a creature that could use it surgically and with that level of stealth was something truly terrifying.
I slowly moved through the living room, sensing as I went. Everything seemed in place, so I continued to the dining room. That, too, was unoccupied. I eased down the stairs to the garage level, but the Gray Ghost sat in darkness, undisturbed.
Closing the door, I quietly opened the downstairs closet and pulled my sword from the scabbard. The blue steel glinted in the stark lights from the media vans shining through the blinds. I’d have preferred the Glock—I was more comfortable with putting lead into things—but if the intruder was powerful enough to slip through my defenses like it had, bullets would only anger it. The blade, however, would amplify my Skill. Based on the tingling in the back of my mind, that seemed like the better option.
The stairs creaked slightly as I eased back up them. I paused, praying that whatever was in my home couldn’t hear the thumping of my heartbeat. Thankfully, all I felt was the stillness of the evening.
With two of the three levels cleared, I wiped my sweaty palm on my jeans, then inched up the steps to the bedrooms. With the blade of my sword leading the way, I checked the two spares first. Both rooms and the common bathroom were clear. That left only one more choice.
I slipped down the short hallway on the balls of my feet while my heart thundered in my chest. As I approached my bedroom door, I flipped through my mental Rolodex of spells, settling on a handful of easy, powerful ones that utilized different elements.
I slowly inserted my blade through the crack in the door, slid it up along the wall, and flipped on the bedroom lights.
White light illuminated the room like a small sun as I kicked open the door. My sword vibrated with anticipation, glinting in the false light like a beacon of death. I swiped it left and right, sucking in the small bits of electricity from a nearby outlet in order to bake whatever creature was waiting for me.
The room was empty.
I lowered my sword, but kept the Electricity Spell
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