She would just have to show up and hope for the best. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. He roused curiosities. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly.
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