Page 161 of Blue Moon Mistress

Holding it in front of his face, I crush the bag in my hand and a shimmering cloud falls over his face.

He jerks as his eyes fly open, and I press my palm to his chest.

“Don’t try to move, you’re going to be very weak.” When he meets my eyes, I know he’ll do as I’ve said. “What happened?”

He blinks, five sharp flutters of his eyelids, and looks down himself. “I—”

When he tries to push up on his arms, the hiss drawn through his teeth is so sharp, it hurts my ears.

“Let me help you up, and then I need to know how this happened.”

He nods, the barest movement of his chin and together, we get him scooted back up against the counter.

“We did a translocating spell. Just a little fun, but it was heavy and hard, the thing we moved… and I couldn’t back away from the spell.” His eyes widen, a fractional amount, but enough to know…

“Aphrodite didn’t let you go.” I don’t make him tell me it was her.

He shakes his head, a little too hard and he has to screw his eyes shut. “She forced me to finish it with her and her acolytes.

“I don’t remember how it ended, I guess I blacked out.”

“Where is she?”

“Right now? She could be anywhere.” He shrugs, the movement sliding him a little to the right. “She’s renting a room from an old lady.”

It isn’t hard to guess which old lady.

“Where’s your kit?”

“It’s in the back.”

He gestures vaguely behind him, and I push through the curtain into the strange little cubby before the stairs that lead up to his home.

But the kit is easy to find in and among his overstock. When I pick up the chest-like box, the soothing items inside leach out into my finger tips, calming. The effects are like a magic menthol.

I hand it to him, closed, and turn away as he pulls items from it. The things a witch keeps in their kit are sacred. Private.

Even if he had a hand in whatever’s happening, I won’t break the sanctity of that.

“If she has acolytes, and she’s pulling from them as well as you, it would explain how she’s doing spells above her skill level…”

“I thought she was just a powerful witch.”

I hear the kit snap closed and turn back to him.

“Based on those cuts, I don’t think she’s as powerful as she let you believe. But if it’s blood magic, those acolytes aren’t a potential coven, she’s taking advantage of them.”

We both know what that means. I don’t have to spell out the danger they are in. He knows just as well as I do that blood sources rarely survive the witches that hold them.

“There’s three of them,” he says as he helps me hold the bandage wrapping around his arms. “Sisters. Charity, Victoria, and Bethany.”

“Let me guess. Last name: Miller?”

“Yeah.” He looks confused. “You know them?”

“I know their grandmother.” I stand, giving him a once over. He’ll survive without my help. “I have to find her before she hurts those girls.”

“Scarlette?”

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