I killed a man, turned him to dust, with nothing more than a hand touch.
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“I killed a man, turned him to dust, with nothing more than a hand touch.”
I don’t know how to stop causing pain… or worse. I can’t figure out what it is I do. My affects on others appears random. So very random. If only I had someone with whom I could confide. Someone to help me understand what I am and what I do. But my foster family isn’t open to hearing my personal issues and my birth family, well…
Six years ago, my mom started using different names for us and my dad disappeared. Everyone I ever knew forgot who I was. No one seems to remember. No one, but me. And now, my real mom is ill (my fault, my touch) and in need of a full-time caregiver.
I know my dad is still out there somewhere. I can feel him in the current that runs through my veins.
When a girl from my past approaches and tells me she not only remembers me, but that we are family–my dad’s family, I am leery. But I’m willing to do anything to find my missing dad, and if that means working with “supposed” family, so be it.
I never expected the search to bring so much supernatural activity into my life. Dark elements don’t want my father found. Can I bring him home without becoming a victim of evil magick or vampires?