The door to the attic creaked when Luci pushed it open. Behind her she could hear Miss Weena calling her. She leaned out to call, “Be right down!” then slipped through the door and closed it. And opened it again before she passed out from lack of oxygen. The heat was past oppressive, bordering on abusive. It was a stale and cloying wet blanket that set itself against her need to hurry. But despite the discomfort, there was a kind of magic in the murky semi-dark. Attics were magic and mysterious places in all the best books, where unexpected things could be counted on to happen. Luci had never been immune to magic. That this particular attic might hold the key to her past only heightened the sensation that she’d crossed more than just a wooden threshold to arrive here.
On the other side of
