Ryan looked up from the book he was perusing, all about hauntings and ghosts and banishing them, to see Selma poking her head up through the trapdoor into the attic. He’d had one brief, idiotic moment when he’d hoped it was Lena. But no, he’d scared the hell out of her, destroyed any trust she’d had in him, and it was going to take something huge to win it back. If he could. It was beginning to feel to him as if she stopped trusting him every time he hiccupped lately. And he wondered why that was. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” Selma asked. He shook off his brooding and smiled a welcome. It felt weak, but she would understand. She came the rest of the way up, a steaming, chocolate-scented cup of cocoa in her hand, the smell tickling his taste buds to life. “I was having cocoa before bed, and I thought you might want some, too.” She crossed the dim attic carefully and set the mug on an upturned wooden crate near his side.
What do You think about Daughter Of The Spellcaster?
