Chapter Twelve
I’m standing in front of five hundred spectators and my glossophobia/stage fright is speeding up my heart rate to supersonic levels.
Yet I don’t faint.
I’m elated instead.
Performing magic is what I was born to do—and the adrenaline from my phobia is just a free stimulant my body produces to keep me sharp and alert.
“I need a volunteer from the crowd,” I say into the microphone, my voice unshaken. “Someone who’s good with firearms, like a police officer.”
As the chosen lady cop walks to the stage, my already-prodigious stress response turns sharp and primal.
This is it.
I’m about to do the most dangerous of all illusions in magic—and I’m only allowing myself to do this because, as a vampire, I have a good chance of surviving a mistake.
I think.
“Please examine this
