Carmel sat quietly, hands in her lap, waiting for the woman to continue. This was obviously an emotional subject for the witch. Carmel had learned over her young years to be a good listener. As one troubled person after another filed into the board rooms of her parent’s charities, Carmel had learned that silence often made it easier for people to tell their stories than anything else. And so, she sat in the silent room, her kind eyes on the woman’s fluttering wrinkled hands. They sat there for maybe five minutes before Gretel finally looked up. Carmel could see the moment that the witch decided to expand on her personal history.
“He was so handsome when I first met him. John was… well… he is, a warlock, but a weak one. That didn’t matter to me. He is my fated mate and I love him.”
Carmel
