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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Me?” I pointed at myself then glanced to my Uncle. “Or him?”

“What did I do this time?” Uncle Al sighed and closed his nail polish. In the space of the meeting, he had polished and painted his nails with a nude colour.

“I meant you, Phoebe.”

“Oh!” I leaned towards him, tapping my fingers on the table. A slight headache began to form. It felt like my heart was pounding hard in my head. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You,” He began, his gaze piercing for truth. “What happened that night you went on a hunt?”

“It’s just as I told you. I drank the wrong potion. After sending the demon back to hell, I got exhausted and stayed at an hotel for the night. With little strength I recovered, I got myself to a library and teleported back here.” I paused for effect, hoping he wouldn’t pry further. “Don’t tell me you think I met a werewolf because that is just absurd. I have not seen one since… Westfalls.”

“I hope you are telling the truth.”

“And I wish you would trust me. Can I go now?”

He nodded
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