8: We Aren’t the WorldMadam Hapney locked the door to her shop, returned to her desk, and ran her finger through the charred section, recalling how effortlessly Melissa had set the wood ablaze. Going to the police had now only seemed to have done more harm than good. The girl was missing and probably angrier than she had been when she had confronted Hapney in her shop.
“Bridgett …” a man called out behind her.
She startled as she turned toward the sound. “Oh, Baron. Don’t do that to me.” She placed a hand over her heart and sighed.
Baron walked around her desk and ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth as he surveyed the arson damage. “It’s worse than we thought.”
“Oh?” Hapney asked, tidying her stack of Psychic Today & Tomorrow magazines on the side table.
“Our witch brought
