Chapter Eleven
The room had fallen silent while everyone continued to ponder how much Frank—or imps in general—knew about the magical world that most witches probably weren’t privy to. If what he said was true about imps living extraordinarily long lives, most of them were undoubtedly like walking encyclopedias.
Jessica noticed her grandmother and Pastor Norman exchange a few glances, although she wasn’t quite able to tell what they thought or tried to silently convey to one another. Was it something magical-business related or something else?
Suddenly, she felt like she didn’t quite want to know anymore.
With a loud sigh, she stood, stretched, and crossed the room to retrieve her laundry basket. “Well,” she said, “I’m going to the basement to do my laundry—again.” She shot Frank an an
