Macee Grisenti

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He shot me a bleak, revolted look over his shoulder. “Am I going to narc on you, you mean?” he bit off, every word edged with acid. “No, I won’t be ratting you out, never fear. Wouldn’t you just hit me with a nice dose of oblivion, anyway, if I even tried?”
Back in a Spell (The Witches of Thistle Grove, #3)
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