Page 158 of Blue Moon Mistress

The bag of stone marbles is at the front of the drawer where I keep the easily lost spell items, and I pull it out with the rough strings that hold it closed. I pour them out into a wooden bowl, three dozen tiny quartz spheres fill the bottom like boba. Covering them over with charged moon water, I take them to the table, shoving aside the papers again to make room.

Plucking a stubby stick of palo santo from the jar beside the window, I set it alight, cleansing the board, letting the magic heavy smoke floods into the crevices.

It lingers until, having stabbed out the palo santo, I gently blow the remains away. Offering my breath as a small sacrifice for clarity.

The marbles—once I’ve dried them—are small enough, I can hold them all in between my cupped hands.

I place my hands in the center of the board, holding them tightly together as I breathe in the lingering smoke. “Spirits help me find what I need most…vrea.”

When I release them, the marbles roll across the board like children scattering in a game of tag. Some immediately roll to the groove on the outside of the board. There’s nothing for them to tell me.

Others stop as though they’re held in place by magnets. The remaining quartz spheres circle and dance their way to their final destinations.

And when they’re done I have to curse under my breath.

Why on earth would Aphrodite need twenty-six warnaways?

But why isn’t important right now. I just need to get out the door and get these things taken care of.

Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture of the board.

I try not to be upset by the zero notifications… try not to dwell on what it could mean.

I did the one thing I said I wouldn’t last night. If they’re avoiding me because of it. I have to let them. They’ve got every right to be mad at me.

I leave the board out. As I deal with the warnaway, it will move and shift and by the time I get home, all of the stones should be on the outer edge. But I grab one of the big totes I made years ago. I can’t start setting fires around town.

The wolves all stick close as I get into my car and head for the closest of the dolls. They haven’t let me out of their sight since last night.

Getting rid of the warnaways will get us one step closer to getting rid of Aphrodite. And It’s clear, I need to get rid of her for good.

I’ve spenttwo hours running around town, collecting the dolls from their various hiding spaces. Crossing them off the photo I took as I go.

There are twenty-five in my bag, a contained pile on the passenger side floor of the car, and I’m close enough to the beach, I take the turn off. No one gets curious about a bonfire on the beach in the winter. It’s the only way to survive a visit to the gray water.

But when I get out—when the wolves bound away into the waist-high crab grass covering the tiny dune-like mounds between the sandy parking lot and the actual beach—the sound of crunching tires reach my ears.

I know who it is before the light bar on top comes into view.

I pull the bag from the passenger side, wrestling the bulky thing out and drop it to the ground at my feet.

“I don’t have time for this,” I grumble through a too bright smile as I turn to the Sheriff.

He steps out of his car with an equally wide smile, but his… looks genuine.

“Are you doing voodoo?” He nods down at the bag—not completely containing them—and raises a single brow.

But he says it with a chuckle.

“Not quite.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think they were made out of straw anyway.”

He’s being too friendly. “Can I help you with something, Sherriff?”

Faint confusion passes over his face. “Actually, I have no idea why I’m here. Isn’t that weird?”

“It is.”

---