Teri Harman

A hand slowly reaches out a crack in the window to feel the light sprinkles of rain. The hand, cemented with dirt, sweat, and blood, trembles like a withered leaf clinging to a dead branch. Although filthy, the hand emits a history of grace and elegance long lost to the evils of torture and imprisonment . . . From what Willa recalls, seeing this pitiful hand, and, eventually, the person connected to it, was the catalyst to the discovery of her true self. Willa is a witch, and it turns out her boyfriend, Simon, is a witch, too.

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