Page 249 of The Seven Rings
Owen carried the copper pot Cleo took out of the closet. “We may need them anyway.”
Trey kept a firm hand on Sonya, and felt her vibrate. “I don’t like leaving her alone in the house when she’s peaking like this.”
“She’s not alone.” As they stepped out, as the wind struck, Sonya lifted her face to it. “They’re all here. All of them. Can’t you feel them?”
The door slammed, a bullet from a gun, behind them.
“And they’re stronger now.”
The dogs raced as dogs will as they walked to the seawall.
“Circle first.” Cleo took the bag of salt from the pot, and used the words her grandmother had given her. “Here before the three o’clock hour, we four cast our circle of power. Within its ring we abide to break the curse on manor and bride.
“Light the candles. One for each of us.”
She took her own, and the globe to shield the flame.
“Against the dark we bring the light to end the witch’s reign this night.”
They looked up as something flew out of the Gold Room window. It screamed, set the dogs to barking. Then simply sputtered into a thin smoke.
“She’s weaker there,” Trey murmured.
“She won’t be when she comes here.” Sonya looked up at the three-quarter moon. “We’ll be in her world then. But…” Almost giddy, Sonya held up her hands so the rings caught the moonlight.
“She doesn’t have these. Seven rings and mine makes eight. Circles of love stand against hate. The blood she spilled through generations leads to her eternal damnation.”
Sonya blinked. “Wow. Where did that come from?”
“I’d say these.” Trey folded his hands over hers.
“This is getting seriously weird.”
“It’s going to get weirder,” Cleo warned Owen. “We need to call the dogs and Pye in here. I don’t know if they’ll stay through this, but we have to try.”
“She’s coming.” Sonya pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh. I feel like I could jump right out of my skin. Do you feel that? Do you feel her?”
“I do now.” Trey gripped her arm. “Stay close.”
She came out of the dark. Not gliding, no, Sonya realized. Walking slowly, effortfully as the now-full moon hung white over the sea.
Alive, human, weary. And still completely mad.
“We can’t let her jump.” Cleo spoke softly. “Whatever happens, we can’t let her jump.”
The dogs growled almost in unison, but—for now—obeyed the command to stay. When Pye arched her back, hissed, Owen picked her up.
Dobbs looked up at the house where the entity she’d become still raged. Then she stared at the group inside the ring of salt.
“Who stands on what is mine? Who dares? Begone from here or face my wrath.”
Trembling a little, Cleo knelt and began the ritual.
“Your blood.” She poured the stained crystals into the copper pot. “The blood of your creature.” Then added her labradorite ball, Trey’s shirt.
She looked up at Owen.
“Yeah, I got it.”
