Ivy Wolfe Janice Griffith May 2026

“Ivy…” Janice pointed.

The moment her fingers touched the jade, the lights went red. Sirens. But not museum sirens—something deeper, like a building groaning in its sleep.

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous. Go.” ivy wolfe janice griffith

“Curses are just marketing for ghosts,” Ivy replied, slicing the glass with a diamond-tipped stylus.

“Janice, no—”

Ivy hesitated one second—then ran. Because that was their rule. Never get caught together. One always escapes.

Trust, for instance. And a very good grandmother. “Ivy…” Janice pointed

“You’re alive,” Ivy breathed.