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My name is Scarlet Jones, and I’m a witch . . . of some kind. Probably.
Those who knew me growing up thought of me as a spoiled little brat they didn’t want to have anything to do with. I did break things on purpose, stole, and may or may not have set half my school on fire, but come on! They were being too hard on me.
I grew up in a family full of strong Blood witches, in which my strange magic never belonged. I thought I was the only one of my kind out there, a true freak of nature, and I liked it that way. I lived on my own, learning to hunt these creatures nobody seemed to know anything about, a bunch of mindless thingies who were in the habit of sucking my magic dry wherever they found me. I even set up a party for them, just so I could teach them some manners.
But my plan went to hell when four strangers crashed the party, people who apparently were like me. Just like that, I no longer felt like a special little flower. With four unconscious bodies at my feet and no idea what was going on, I thought that was the worst it was going to get. Boy, was I wrong . . .
The rest of my life is only just beginning, and by the looks of it, it is not going to be a smooth ride.
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