Chapter 18
The Grim looked like any other old house in Salem. White wood siding, dark shutters, and fancy carved banisters along the front porch. It was large, with the shop below and what seemed to be curtained living quarters above.
The storefront itself wasn't as creepy as I’d expected. A hand-painted raven on the sign held a knobby wand in its beak, showering sparks over the words “Grimoire”. The largest sparkles dotted the I’s. Wide plate-glass windows were filled with herbs in jars, handmade besoms and a large mock-parchment scroll carved out of plywood. Red paint masqueraded as blood, detailing the ingredients of a love spell. At least, I hoped it was blood.
“Rose petals, two hairs from a white cat, frankincense, light of a full moon, a nightingale’s song.” Jules read the spell,
