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and she felt a warmth. She knew without knowing precisely how she knew, that this wasn’t another attack. This was something else. The blue light seemed to kindle something in her. Deep within, she felt a blossoming of power, like a lotus flower opening up in the deep recesses of her mind.
    Margaret sighed and slumped against the doorway. She only had a moment’s reprieve before she heard a racket in the living room. Through the buzz of the broadcaster, she heard the other hunters engaging the ghouls. Before long, the last of the undead were slain and Samuel thumped through the house, searching for Margaret.
    He found her in the doorway. Samuel hugged her, and kissed her softly on the forehead.
    “Let’s get you home,” Samuel said.
    “Agreed, she’s done an amazing job,” Adelaide said, finding them in the hallway.
    Through the broadcaster she could hear Lincoln speaking with the other hunter in the living room.
    “Who was the Pralin that came with you?” Margaret asked Samuel.
    “Vincent Pralin. He’s a scout,” Samuel said.
    :You’ve all done a good job,: Nancy said on the other end of the broadcaster.
    “How do you know?” Lincoln asked his mother. “You didn’t see us.”
    :Shut up,: Nancy said, exasperated. :You’re still alive. That’s a great job in my book.:
    “If I were your mother,” Vincent said to Lincoln, “you wouldn’t be alive for long.”
    :I like him!: Nancy called.
    Margaret followed her father and Adelaide out of the house and onto Main Street. It was there Margaret saw the scout clearly for the first time. The Pralin family was one of the families she’d heard of, but had never met. Still, she thought she’d seen him around before.
    He was a tall man, wiry with strength that was hinted at by the way he carried himself, but couldn’t be evidenced through the brown leather long coat he wore. He was a black man with short hair and a goatee. His lips were full and pouty and his eyes wide and so dark they reminded Margaret of coffee.
    “Hi,” Margaret said, pushing Lincoln out of the way and holding her hand out to Vincent. “I’m Margaret.”
    “Hey!” Lincoln said. “You can’t eat him!
    Adelaide snickered, but covered her mouth with her hand and pushed ahead. She grabbed Lincoln’s sleeve and led him away from the two of them so that Margaret was alone with the scout.
    Samuel frowned at the young man, but the scout didn’t notice.
    “I’m Vincent,” he said in a low voice that rushed through Margaret’s ears like velvet. He took her hand, his multitude of weapons shifted and clanged as he bent over the back of her hand. His eyes never left hers, and she thought she might just get lost in their depths. Her heart fluttered when his wet lips brushed across her knuckles.
    “Nice to meet you,” Margaret blushed.
    “Vince, aren’t you supposed to finish your patrol?” Samuel barked from a few feet away.
    Adelaide slapped Samuel on the shoulder. “Leave them alone!”
    “Yes, sir,” Vincent said. He glanced at Margaret one last time before fading into the shadows of an alley.
    Margaret sighed.
    “That was good work with the necromancer,” Samuel told her.
    “Very impressive,” Addie agreed.
    “I agree,” Margaret said. She held up her short sword, slicked with necromancer and ghoul blood. “And I think this little beast has earned a spot on our trophy wall.”
    Samuel nodded, and for a moment a swell of pride chased the butterflies away…but only for a moment.

    Off the coast of North Shore, far out to see and away from Danthea, a cloud of bats fluttered through the night. Beady red eyes and a storm of leather wings tore through the air.
    On the coast, standing on a rock above the cresting waves, a white haired man watched them come. His dark clothing kept him camouflaged against the deep of night in the deep of the night against the blackened Sea of Sorrows. He drew up his hood to shield himself from the glow of the blood moon.
    The bats coalesced above the