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The next morning, I woke feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. I vaguely remembered anxiety-fueled dreams, and my shirt was damp with sweat. I did some grounding exercises to mitigate my anxiety, but they only helped a little.
I went to get my mail, almost feeling like last night’s excursion had been a dream. But I knew it was real. Nellie and the parakeets had been there. I should have felt happy that we had a new lead—maybe following up on Mr. Graves would reveal him to be the culprit—but I couldn’t at all imagine that he had a motive or that he was involved with demonic magic. It seemed like he just wanted healthy vegetables, and if he valued his privacy, who could blame him?
There was an unusual envelope in my mail this morning, tinted yellow with a parchment-like texture, and I gr
