An hour or two later, somewhat tipsy, the bottle of wine nearly empty, Sealy stumbled through the cottage and headed for the stairs. Years ago when he fell in love with Devereux he never expected to find the bookshop owner a believer in all things occult, not that it really bothered him all that much. Still, Devereux, his wickedly handsome, soft spoken beloved toyed with things probably better left untouched.
Sealy stomped up the stairs, hand tight on the railing. At some point in his little wine induced binge, heartache gave ‘way completely to anger, so many unsaid things bubbling up, waiting to be released. On the second story landing he hit the switch and watched the shadows disappear. The space was one of those classic attic rooms with angular ceilings and little nooks, each available
