Caitlin flipped the phone shut. Where did Trevor keep Arianrhod’s number? She frowned at the empty room and trekked to the bathroom. Sneaking in, she poked her head around the dark blue shower curtain to see Trevor with shampoo in his eyes. She sighed and left the room as quietly as she came. Dinner needed cooking and she mixed and tested, plopping the pork and potatoes into their plates with much more force than she’d meant to.
Trevor’s footsteps drew her attention to the kitchen door. “Something wrong?” he asked.
She scanned his open flannel shirt and the wet towel around his neck and smiled. “You know, Christmas is coming.” She waved a finger at him. “That’d make a perfect Christmas card.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“Yes it would.” She raised a brow mischievously. “Let me get the camera.”
He grabbed her hand as she approached, pulling her into his warm arms. “No you don’t!”
Something terrifying stalks Caitlin and her beloved Trevor. Something the bits and pieces she left claimed she had to make sense of–or so legend says. When the curator of their collection finds Caitlin’s long forgotten diary, she wonders will it tell the whole tale? Will it tell why Caitlin seemed so determined to tell the difference between reality and nightmare even as she continued the fight to defend her family from evil? Will it explain why she thought her world twisted? If she really became a witch?
Perhaps the answer lies between the lines of her story, one of lessons, struggles, and the hopes she carried like a warrior’s shield.
**This is a side (or supplemental, if you will) story in the Antique Magic series, a companion to The Artist’s Inheritance (Antique Magic, Book One).
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