I spotted Constance in her dining room and, despite my fear about what I was about to do, I crossed the threshold to confront her, my phone held up, video running so that I would have proof to show the Lovely Witches of this conversation. I clutched the journal to my chest for support while I drew near, Constance glaring at me. She appeared to have been waiting for me.

"It's all in here, Constance." Maybe she'd think I was more confident that I was if I used a bit of bluster. ...