The Exorcism of Faeries (Morbid Realities, #1)

by J.L. Vampa

They all wore the same plague doctor masks at Achilles House, a clear sign they belonged to one of the secret societies at Trinity,

stirring the leaves that would soon lose their chlorophyll and show the world how beautiful it is to die.

Emmy rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed. “I didn’t say slutty or that you have to fuck him. It has very little to do with who the man is, anyway. It’s about her, the woman in the scenario. When a woman feels sexy, she feels confident and in control. It puts a spell on men. It has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power. It’s just another tool in a woman’s arsenal.” She laid back, resting on her elbows. “You clearly have the brains. Make people see you.”

Jesus, she wanted to slap the brooding right off his face.

This time, the migraine that came from nowhere and everywhere brought a song, student passersby disappearing, replaced with synesthesia in shades of warmth, nostalgia and a forest in winter. God, it was beautiful. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn't make them stop, the fog only breaking long enough for her to see strong, slender fingers gliding over an old piano, the notes filling up her soul before she could see her bare legs in a tub, covered in suds, a melodic voice reading her fairytales. Then everything was slashed in red. Garish gashes of black blood, the notes cut short, a scream tearing through her so forcefully she thought it must be real—now. Everything trembled, the world shaking, crumbling. It all went black and Atta gasped, opening her eyes to see students on the green staring at her.

“I won’t apologise for the debate. I rather enjoyed it, to be frank. But I insulted you and it was cruel. I’m sorry.” As far as apologies went, it wasn’t half bad. “I’m sorry I challenged you in front of your class.” Murdoch shook his head, a dark curl falling across his forehead. “If we were never challenged, Atta, we would never grow.”

Fucking hell she was beautiful when she was angry. But not as beautiful as when she laughed.

The moment her foot passed over the threshold, Atta swore the house pulled in a breath, as if it were surprised to see her. The feeling was mutual.

“She would have liked you. Same take no shite spirit and wild, brilliant mind.”

He shouldn’t have brought her into this, this girl made up of poetry and bones, flowers and viscera, everything beautiful and meaningful in life.