Page 2 of Magic Unrestrained

With a powerful beat of her wings, Savannah launched herself into the air, the city unfolding beneath her as she soared. The cool night air whipped through her short spiky hair as she flew over the rooftops, her keen eyes scanning the streets below for any sign of movement, of darkness.

The city always felt different from above, more alive, yet eerily quiet at the same time. Savannah let her senses stretch out, feeling for the telltale flicker of demonic energy. It wouldn’t take long to find something. New Orleans had always been a magnet for the supernatural, and tonight felt like it had something waiting in the shadows, lurking just out of sight.

Her heart raced as the adrenaline began to take hold. This was what she needed. Not dreams of a man she couldn’t place, not the confines of her graphic design work, but this—the thrill of the hunt.

The skyline of the French Quarter came into view, its twisting streets and old-world charm hiding all manner of secrets. Savannah’s wings beat steadily as she flew lower, her eyes narrowing as she felt a faint ripple of dark energy below her. She hovered in place for a moment, her pulse quickening as she locked onto the source.

Perfect.

With a slow exhale, Savannah descended, the thrill of the impending fight pulsing through her veins.

The bass from the street below throbbed through Savannah's body, a relentless heartbeat that matched the frenetic energy of the packed dance floor. Strobe lights cut through the haze of sweat and smoke, painting the writhing bodies in flashes of electric blue, fluorescent pink, and acid green. To the untrained eye, it was just another night at Pulse, one of New Orleans' hottest underground clubs. But Savannah wasn't here for the music or the overpriced drinks.

She was hunting.

Leaning against the bar, Savannah took a sip of her virgin mojito, her eyes scanning the crowd. Her pale blue hair, and short, shattered cut helped her blend in with the club kids and fashion victims. Nobody looked twice at the shimmer that occasionally rippled beneath her cropped leather jacket. In a place like this, iridescent fairy wings were hardly the strangest thing on display.

"Hey there, beautiful," a voice slurred near her ear. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Savannah turned, coming face to face with a man who reeked of expensive cologne and too much vodka. She offered him a tight smile. "I'm good, thanks."

The man frowned, swaying slightly. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that."

As he reached for her arm, Savannah caught a whiff of something else beneath the alcohol and cologne—a scent like sulfur and rotting meat. Her eyes narrowed.

"I said," she repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "I'm good."

The glamour surrounding the man flickered for a moment, revealing a flash of mottled gray skin and yellowed fangs. The demon's eyes widened in recognition and fear.

"Shit," it hissed. "You’re one of them…"

Before Savannah could react, the demon shoved her hard, sending her stumbling back against the bar. By the time she regained her balance, he had disappeared into the crowd.

"Dammit," Savannah muttered. She downed the rest of her drink and took off after her prey, weaving through the mass of dancers with preternatural grace.

She caught sight of the demon near the exit, its human disguise back in place. As it reached for the door, Savannah's hand shot out, grabbing its wrist. The demon spun, snarling, its face contorting into something inhuman.

"Now, now," Savannah said, her free hand slipping inside her jacket to grip one of her pistols. "Is that any way to treat a lady?"

The demon's eyes darted around wildly, looking for an escape route. Finding none, it lunged at Savannah with impossible speed, claws extended. But Savannah was faster. She sidestepped the attack, using the demon's momentum to slam it face-first into the wall.

"You're making a scene," she hissed in its ear. "Outside. Now."

She marched the creature through the door and into the alley behind the club, keeping it pinned with one hand while the other held her pistol at the ready. The night air outside Pulse hit Savannah like a cold slap. The thick, humid atmosphere clung to her skin, a stark contrast to the electric heat inside the club.

As soon as they were out of sight, she spun the demon around, pressing the barrel of her gun under its chin. It spun away with inhuman speed, breaking her hold and disappearing around a corner that led, she knew, to a maze of alleys. She rounded the corner. The alley before her was narrow, choked with shadows and the stench of rotting garbage. A lone flickering streetlight cast a dull glow that did little to penetrate the darkness.

Savannah took a deep breath, letting her fae power hum beneath the surface. The water in the air, in the puddles on the ground, and even in her own body responded to her call, ready to be wielded. She moved cautiously now, each step deliberate, her eyes scanning every corner, every shadow for the demon that lurked ahead.

A faint whisper of movement. She froze, listening.

A sudden crash—a metal trash can kicked aside—rang through the alley. Savannah’s dagger was in her hand in an instant, its silver blade catching the dim light. A figure appeared at the end of the alley, cloaked in darkness, eyes glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. The demon stepped forward, its smirk stretching wide across its sharp, angular face.

“You won’t leave here alive, little faery,” it hissed, its voice grating like broken glass.

Savannah clenched her jaw, stepping forward, the dagger at the ready. “Yeah? Don’t know how to tell you, but I’ve heard that one before.”

The demon moved first, charging at her with that same burst of speed he’d shown outside Pulse. This time, she wasn’t caught unaware, but Savannah barely had time to brace herself before it was on her, claws slashing through the air. She ducked under its swipe, spinning out of its reach as the demon's claws sliced through the air where her head had been.

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