Thirty-six:
Louisa Endless
The Crone was as old as Faerie itself. Possibly older. She sucked the youth out of her enemies. It was how she stayed young. Her tower was made of stone, a crooked thing that was barely holding together. Inside, it was lit only by candles whose lights flickered across the walls casting shadows. On the wall was a large mirror with a golden frame, and inside that frame was pretty, brunet Adelaide March.
Tatiana’s Mom.
Bradley’s mate.
“Mama!” my little niece cried out and she bounded away from me to the mirror. Just as she got in front of it though, The Crone appeared in a puff of smoke. Her face was withered with age, stringy grey hair that looked like it was about to be falling out of her head.
