Page 26 of Blue Moon Mistress

The soil is mounded, but not overturned. Grandma may have woken, but she didn’t get up.

I pull the heavy bag of salt from the metal box beside the narrow entrance to the plot and untie the drawstring.

“Let’s get you back to sleep, Nana.”

Drawing out handfuls, I sprinkle it over the softly risen earth. “Keep your old ass in the ground.”

It’s the intention that matters, more than the words.

Especially here.

Nothing leaves a Carraway plot without a witch’s permission… but a witch buried in this ground has the unique ability to break those rules. I wish I knew what spells held her caged in her coffin.

I use the shovel to stab at the soil, driving the salt a little further into the ground, and with each smack of metal on dirt, the mound deflates—like it’s releasing an odorless gas—But it’s only the remnant magic of whatever spell tried to unearth her.

My grandmother was a powerful witch. A woman who made other witches quake in fear. She was beautiful and strong… And speaking of her was strictly forbidden in mixed company. I imagine I will learn the truth of why she’s here shortly before my mother dies.

And not a day before it’s necessary.

With the ground level again, I take a moment and breathe in the thick, cold air. My grandmother deserves a moment’s respect, no matter the reason she wound up in this place. I set the shovel aside.

The rain has kept her headstone clear of dirt, but not debris. I pick the twigs from it one at a time, tossing them into a pile in the corner. But I can’t stay long. As soon as it’s cleaned, I grab the bag and my shovel and, lock the box up again. It doesn’t need it. The runes inscribed in its lid keep it safe, but my mother’s paranoia runs deep.

Walking away from the Carraway plot, I always breathe easier. The place has protections to repel the normal person and even on me, they work to some extent.

The birdsong that had been absent on the trudge in is there, not obscured by theominous-defaeus.

I can take the time to enjoy the bright green around me. The ferns drip with long held water, and the trees are so covered in moss, at certain points on the trail it’s like being in a room with carpeted walls.

But the forest always ends, no matter how deep I’ve been lost in it.

My car is covered in a light mist, and coated in pine needles. The inevitable rain later today will deal with the latter.

The gravel from when the substation was in use is the only thing keeping this part of the clearing from turning into muddy soup. If this was dirt, my car would have sunk like a stone.

The car is tiny. I’d bought it without the intention of needing to accommodate more than myself and maybe Elaria. Looking at it now, all I can think of is the trio of men stuffed into the back seat last night.

Maybe I should invest in something a little bigger…

Nothing I can do about that right now. I put the shovel away, knock as much of the dirt from my shoes as possible. But onceI’m in the car, I don’t linger. I want to get away from the energy of the Carraway plot, and the golf course that has slowly been leaching its way further and further outward.

The highway is, once again, a strange respite from those feelings, but it doesn’t last. On the bridge over the slough, a shiver racks through me and I swerve a little.

I’d swear…

But when I look back, there’s nothing there. No silver slick of a spell, no shimmer of a protection. But I know I crossed a threshold… to what is the only question.

There are too many random little things tugging at me today to ignore.

I don’t turn off toward my house. There’s one more thing I need to do in town.

Three

Partof the reason I moved back to this quaint coastal town was the tourist trap of a boardwalk and the shops that lined it. The weather and salt-worn gray planks clatter under my feet as I walk the chilly gauntlet toward Wexxon’s.

Under the guise of a holistic and new age shop, Anthony Wexxon turned his craft into his trade. He’s a handsome man and he knows it. Which is fortunate for him, because he isn’t a good witch, and he knows that too.

But a pretty smile can hide all manner of mistakes.

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