My heart sank, hearing words Aunt Lucille had said dozens of times since Uncle George had been killed in a factory accident. She’d had a sudden stirring of her darkness inside her that morning, an omen warning her that something bad would happen. She had told him so. Uncle George wasn’t a supernatural. He’d been human. And though he’d indulged his wife with her eccentricities, he’d never seemed to truly believe she had magic inside her. He’d loved her dearly, but he didn’t heed her warning. And he’d died for it. She was still furious about it. And hurt, obviously.
