Except if the Syri in the shadow plane was to be believed, vampiric magic was real.
In the parlor, Victory followed her nose to the coffee service and poured herself a drink, chasing the black liquid with a healthy dose of cream until it swirled tan. Asaron and Mikelos helped themselves, and the three found seats. “I heard you two speaking while I was in the shower, but I didn’t listen. Care to fill me in?” Victory asked.
“We were discussing potential routes to make it home after we meet with Stefania tomorrow night,” Asaron said.
Victory set her cup down so hard the coffee almost sloshed out. “Is that the best idea?”
“How is going home not the best idea?” Mikelos lifted his hands in dismay.
“The shadows Asaron and I have been seeing are a direct result of the world spell,” Victory sa
