13
Nebraska’s the Devil
Mess, Star had called it. You didn’t talk about poking around in someone’s gray matter and then talk about mess two seconds later.
She snapped her fingers, and her magic crackled around us. Some kind of protective barrier, at a guess. To prevent anyone from seeing any “mess.” My stomach flip-flopped. I wasn’t sure I was up to seeing a witchy mind probe. I was sure that Star would be careful, but poking around in someone’s head—
“Calm down, Mallory,” Star said. “You’re looking green around the gills, and while I can mask some things, your stomach contents on the floor would be a little difficult to hide once we’re gone.”
I nodded, but seriously, if she got squishy brains on the table, I was losing it.
Thankfully, the “mess” that Star had referenced was of the m
