Samuel left Belle and Imogen in the den,
both of them poring over a worn copies of Weekly Wiccans together, the imp
explaining the basic difference between the magical world and the mundane
world, while Samuel just needed a cold soda to cool his throbbing headache.
Standing in the kitchen, he sipped from the glass bottle while leaning against
the counter before hearing a soft knocking coming from his pantry. Smiling
around the bottle, he smacked his lips in satisfaction and girded his will to
the intolerable before calling out.
“Come on in,” he called, looking down
at the floor.
