Page 60 of XOXO

The trek to the cabin is easier. Maybe I can simply breathe more freely now that the ward is enclosed again. There’s less stress to be sure. My feet ache from running around all night, but it isn’t cumbersome anymore. I bounce on my toes as we cross the trimmed grass around the porch.

No lights burn in the building, but that’s to be expected. There’s no one here. Everyone is still off enjoying their Valentine’s Day.

And for some reason, I’ve enjoyed this one. Brynn might be heavy-handed, but she can be fun in the right circumstances.

Especially when those circumstances are squeezed into skin-tight black jeans.

Once inside the cabin, we head directly for the storage room. Searching spells are kept bottled by the dozen. With any luck, one of the references explains how to repair a moonstone.

We split in two. I check the catalog for the spell and find the pink vial, while she retrieves the cracked moonstone and pulls a book off a shelf to search for a repair.

Liquid in my glass vile shimmers pearlescent in the dull overhead lights. I dump the contents into one palm, repeat the incantation, and clap my hands together. I know I’ve done it correctly when my palms heat.

Excellent.

With my fingers splayed, I throw my arms apart as forcefully as I can manage. Pink shimmer implodes from my spread hands, my position the epicenter of the blast that rockets through shelves, walls, and doors. It rattles the contents, hits the exterior of the cabin in less than half a second, and charges in all directions.

Brynn wobbles and grabs onto her necklace. She plants her feet to avoid being knocked over.

She really needs to be inducted, like yesterday.

The energy sizzles in my mind, and I sense it when the spell rolls over small animals and insects. The wave rams straight into the egg-shaped ward line and fizzles.

Good. Nothing amiss.

“All clear,” I inform her. At least nothing got in that shouldn’t have.

“Well done,” she replies. The book is open in her hand, her face lit in a half smile and the rock halves on the worktable. “Because you’re never going to guess how we fix the moonstone.”

“Don’t suppose magical superglue is an option?”

The humor in her expression dies.

“Did we seriously spend the whole night dealing with that decrepit crone then pimping ourselves to a gnome when you knew how to repair it all along?”

“What? That can’t be the answer.” I splutter. I rush over to her, but she snaps the book shut with only her finger to hold the place on the page.

“Oh, but it is, little weed.” She holds the tome open and taps on the entry with her index finger. “Care to explain this?”

“I didn’t know how to fix it. I was trying to be funny.”

“You failed.”

“No kidding,” I spit back. I scan the words for my own certainty.

Moonstone repair: stone-compatible bonding agent, held as tight as possible, then a standard binding spell is chanted. Follow setting instructions of adhesive and stone will be ready to accept moonlight.

“No shit,” I whisper. “Hey, I was right!”

“It’s not a celebration to accidentally get it right.”

“I’m taking my wins where I can.”

“Do you have any kind of adhesive here?”

The polished concrete squeals under my rubber-soled shoes. I march straight up to the cabinet beside the work table and pull open a few of the small, plastic drawers. After a handful of tries, I brandish the tube of B3000 like it’s a weapon. The two-part tube has been used before, but there’s plenty remaining.

Brynn snatches the object from my hand and reads the instructions.

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