Leonarya cussed, threw away her working cowries and the other magic inclined stuff lying on the black table in anger, after trying for the umpteenth time to conjure up the spying demons.
She knew that they were gone, that they had been buried somewhere she could never know, but she didn't know what else to do if not trying the more, or trying to do something, instead of lazing about and thinking about the fallacy of her plans and magic.
She hadn't bargained for the vampires to be put to play in this story of hers. She hadn't counted the betrayal of her daughter too. No. Not hers. But Sheila's.
Freya.
Leonarya knew she hadn't been the best of mothers to the girl, but she would like to believe that she had tried.
Would she have tried in that trying way if she had her own children with her? Leonarya shook her head, and slumped into her black throne seat.
