I texted Austin: I haven’t done a good job of hardening up. I threw up three times during the outdoor cleanup. And the dolls didn’t just shut off. I had to make them. What happens when they decide they don’t want a master and pop back into consciousness and try to kill me?

I stared at the message screen, looking for the three little dots that said he was typing. Wondering if he’d even seen the message at all.

After a while, I sighed and set my phone in the charging cradle. It had been a long, utterly screwed up night. This new life would take some getting used to.

Before sleep pulled me away, light flashed against my closed lids. My phone had lit up with a message.

Austin: You’ll harden up to the gritty parts of magic, I have faith in that. You’re a survivor. Not sure about the dolls tho. You might be screwed there. Been nice knowin’ ya. ;)

I laughed and reached over to put the phone back. On impulse, I felt my back. Were there wings in there? Or had that aspect of the magic not been included in the deal? And what else could I do besides hear the troubled thoughts of the four magical people who’d helped me claim the magic? I had so many questions. There were so many unknowns.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. The first order of business was getting some shut eye. Number two was blowing up the doll room. Then I would take the bull by the horns and figure out what I could really do. Preferably before that tall, dark stranger came back for his meeting.