Page 220 of Blue Moon Mistress

They shift and I know they’re looking at me for clarification, but I don’t know what she’s about to say until it’s too late. I can’t stop her.

“If severing this tie means you have to give up the child or go back to shifting with every moon—”

Chase doesn’t let her finish. “We would go back to being wolves.”

“All of you?”

“Of course.”

She studies them again, another long, narrowed glance. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

With one last long look at the four of them, she pulls a ring off her thumb and hands it to me. “The others are in the staircase.”

Eighteen

Joshua drivesthis time and he watches me in the rear-view mirror a little too long.

“Eyes on the road, mister?”

He looks away, but only for a moment before his gaze comes back to me. “Is the ring important?”

“Very. But not for the spell.”

“So, what do you need ‘others’ for?” Johnny asks.

“Well, this is my grandfather’s wedding ring.” I twist it on my own thumb. “The other family rings are what’s in the stairs. She gave you her blessing without actuallygivingyou her blessing.”

“So, she likes us?” His smile is a bright flash in headlights and I know the other three wonder as well.

“She likes you.”

“Good.” Thomas arm snags me and he pulls me against him. “She is scary as hell… but I think we like her too.”

Johnny getsto work on dinner, grumbling about set meal times, and the others go off on their own business, while I head for the attic.

The staircase is still half pulled apart, so I step around the loose boards and head up into the dark of the attic.

The space is mostly empty. There had been grand plans, once, to find a way to turn it into a functional library, but there are simply too many sloping surfaces. Though I still like the idea of hanging the books from the rafters.

With the house warm below, it’s toasty up here, and I only shiver when I get close to the chimney. It might be radiating more heat, but there is definitely something cold and ugly entombed inside it.

I search the bricks without touching them, starting from the top down.

And there it is, a small pentacle pressed into a brick low on the south side of the chimney column.

“Right where you’re supposed to be.”

The book hidden behind the brick is tiny and a moment’s glance at the words inside tells me it was written by my great great grandmother. A woman the family likes to talk less about than even the woman buried in the Carraway plot.

When I get back downstairs, and after we’ve eaten, it takes a bare minute to slip out into the cold barn and disinter the other book from its salty grave. That is enough time for the guys to get the table cleared off.

They haven’t touched the other book of hexes and spells.

“I don’t know how long this is going to take.” I say, but before I can offer the apology that should go along with it, they’re all shaking their heads.

“Whatever it takes. We want her gone. Just tell us what you need us to do.”

“Nothing yet. But I’ll let you know when I know.”

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