“We do sell an awful lot of crystals and novelty T-shirts,” she said, her own hands braced on the table. “We also sell fake grimoires and plastic pumpkins and pointy hats. The whole shebang, really.” The lines around Simon’s mouth deepened, but he didn’t say anything, not even when Vivienne smiled and said, “And yet we’re still the witches who managed to curse your son, and you had no idea it had even happened. So maybe back off a little.”
