Page 159 of Blue Moon Mistress

“There must have been something I wanted to tell you?” But he doesn’t look convinced. In fact, each moment that ticks by, he looks more and more confused.

I glance past him. The front bumper of his car is smashed. The paint chipped off to reveal the gray metal beneath.

“You hit a stop sign?” I ask, nodding down to it.

“No, one of the high school kids is learning to drive stick. He rolled backward down a hill and bumped me.” He chuckles again, a different man than the one I’ve encountered the last few weeks. “He was scared shitless, poor kid.”

“You didn’t ticket him?”

“Nah. It was just a rookie mistake. No point in scarring him for life.”

I might not have had any real interactions with the Sheriff before he started harassing me, butthiswasn’t the man I expected to see when some of Aphrodite’s enchantment started wearing off.

“Did you get everything sorted out with Conner?”

Once again, his face shifts, like something’s tickling at his brain. “Yeah, sounds like there’s a small wolf pack that was heading through. Sorry about the trouble.”

“Just doing your job, right?”

He nods, but he looks like he’s forgotten why he’s here again.

“Well, I should get back to—” the words trail off and I know he’s forgotten what he was doing before.

The lingering effects of an enchantment, especially one that’s all about control, can be disorienting.

But I don’t have time to help him right now.

“You have a nice day, Sheriff.”

Hefting the bag onto my shoulder, I follow the pale trail through the grass that scratches at my jeans where it touches me.

The beach is just over a mile long, stretching from the jetty on the north end, down to a craggy wall of trees on the south. And it’s bitterly cold now that I’m past that tiny wind break.

But I can’t rush.

I pick a spot far enough down that I won’t send sparks into the grass, but not so far that I’ll risk the tide—not yet.

When I drop the bag and go to my knees, I wish I’d brought a shovel… or that the wolves were corporeal enough they could dig this one for me.

But I didn’t, and they’re not.

Sand grits under my nails, but I ignore it as I get the hole to the size I need it.

I’m grateful the dolls are all fairly old. They’ve dried out and their brittle bodies will catch flame easily enough.

Sitting back on my heels, I wipe away the faint sheen of sweat on my brow and look at the beach around me. There’s a man with a dog on the far end of the beach, and a jogger making his third pass along the water’s edge. But otherwise the beach is deserted.

Time to get rid of this finger hold.

I pluck the dolls from the bag one by one, pulling down the twine that kept them in their shape this long and make sure they break apart as I drop them into the pit.

It looks more like a bird’s nest than a fire pit when I’m done.

“Arde.” A snap of my fingers to fix that.

The dry and brittle remains of her warnaways spark and flare.

I watch the fire consume them, knowing Aphrodite will feel the warmth of the flames.

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