Page 111 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Tomas doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is assessing. “We’ve had some… trouble recently,” he says carefully, his words measured like he’s weighing each one.

“Trouble?” Jinx echoes, one brow arched high. She glances at me, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “I think I’ve heard about your kind of trouble. Word travels fast in our world.”

Before I can respond, a shorter woman steps up beside Jinx, her arms filled with rolls of fabric. “We’ve got everything ready to start,” she says, her tone clipped but efficient. Her glasses slip down her nose, and she nudges them back up with her wrist, never breaking stride.

Jinx nods. “Thanks, Ava.”

Ava’s gaze lingers on me for a moment. She gives a polite nod before turning back to the others, her movements brisk as she hands off supplies.

“She’s the brains,” Jinx says, jerking her chin toward Ava. “Keeps us all in line.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Ava mutters, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Jinx holds my gaze for a beat, like she’s testing the waters, then gives a small nod, satisfied. She spins on her heel, clapping her hands once. “Alright, y’all. Enough standing around. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

The witches fan out, each one moving with practiced purpose. Ava pulls a bulky bag from the van, her brow furrowed in concentration. The lanky guy with the shaved head hefts an armful of iron spikes, his steps sure and steady. Another witch murmurs under their breath, their fingers brushing the pouch tied to their belt, magic whispering through the air.

Jinx strides closer, her gaze moving between Tomas and me. “So, what’s the plan, Sunshine?” she drawls, her tone almost playful. “You want the house and yard covered, or are we talking the whole spread?”

I step out from behind Tomas, meeting her eyes head-on. “The fields along the road,” I say firmly. “And the outbuildings. The barn, the shed—anywhere someone might try to sneak in.”

Jinx whistles low, her eyes narrowing as she scans the treeline, calculating. “That’s a lotta ground, darlin’. You’re lookin’ at doubling your cost, maybe more.”

Tomas doesn’t hesitate. His voice is resolute. “This house is the core of our pack. Whatever it takes.”

Jinx gives Tomas a long, searching look before shrugging. “Alright, it’s your wallet. But if you want it all done today, Sunshine here’s gonna have to lend a hand.”

I offer a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of her neck. “I have no earthly idea how to help, but I’m willing to learn.”

Jinx’s brow furrows in confusion. “…Oh, you’re untrained?”

I nod,“I’ve only very recently become… magical.”

“Well, y’got plenty of juice, let’s get you set up.”

Ava kneels just inside the oak tree’s shade, setting down a large canvas bag with a practiced ease that speaks of ritual repetition. One by one, she pulls out a small hammer, a bundle of thick iron spikes, and several small pouches tied with red string. Each item is arranged with the precision of a puzzle—or maybe a battlefield.

Jinx crouches beside her, plucking one of the pouches and giving it a light shake. A soft clink comes from within. “Black salt,” she says matter-of-factly. “Good for keepin’ nasty things out. This’ll go along the property’s perimeter—makes a line they can’t cross without feelin’ like their skin’s on fire.”

She tosses the pouch to Tomas. He catches it midair, his brow furrowing as he inspects it, the tension of his wolf still bristling just beneath his skin.

“Relax, Big Bad,” Jinx smirks, her eyes gleaming. “It doesn’t bite.”

Tomas steps back, just enough to keep the salt at arm’s length.

Next, Jinx picks up one of the iron spikes, holding it up so the metal glints dully in the sun. “These are for anchoring the wards. Iron’s a universal ‘nope’ for bad energy—fae, spirits, elementals,you name it. But I don’t stop there.” She flips the spike, letting it rest balanced across her palms. “These babies are infused with silver filings, forged right into the metal. Anything that doesn’t mind iron too much—like vampires and shifters—won’t burn, but they sure as hell won’t feel welcome.”

She taps the spike lightly against her hand, a metallic clink punctuating her words. “We’ll drive these into the ground at each corner of the house and outbuildings. They’re the bones of the ward, holdin’ everything together.”

She turns to me, her eyes sharp and knowing, before tossing the spike into my hands. It lands heavy in my palm, grounding, solid.

Tomas stiffens, his nose flaring, eyes flashing gold. He takes a cautious step back, his wolf clearly not thrilled with the mingling scent of silver and iron.

“You’ll want to hold onto that,” Jinx says, already reaching for the next tool—a stick of white chalk. “This here’s Cascarilla. Made from eggshells. Sacred, purifying, protective.” She twirls the chalk between her fingers before holding it up for emphasis. “We’ll mark symbols on all the entry points—doors, windows, cellar hatches. Anywhere someone might try to sneak in.”

Her eyes meet mine, the easy humor fading just a notch. “These lines? They’ll keep the bad things out. But you still gotta be ready, Sunshine. Wards buy you time. They don’t win you the war.”

I nod, running my thumb over the chalk’s smooth surface, its coolness grounding me.

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