Tuesday, August 11, 2015


Salem. Not a nickname I cared for, but Nate had called me worse.

I opened my laptop, popped in a thumb-drive, and pulled up the scanned copy of my mother’s grimoire. The book was safely stored elsewhere, too precious to go about with a pair of reckless men intent on finding things that might kill us. Besides, that tome has a tendency to compel me to do things that would traumatize Nate. He might be an ass, but I love him.

Headlamps illuminated the road. Engine thrummed. Nate stared into the distance, pretending he didn’t know I was memorizing spells.


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