Chapter 4

“Absolutely not,”Sawyer yowled. “No dogs!”

“Sawyer,” I began as calmly as I could, though I was seriously on the verge of losing my patience, “listen—”

“No dogs!” With his striped fur bristling like the quills of an enraged porcupine, the tomcat raced off into the woods.

Ame flicked a pair of judgmental yellow eyes in my direction and started down the front porch. I’d discovered my tabby cat deep in conversation with her when we’d arrived at Daphne and Shari’s witch-hat house, instead of running patrols along the orchard perimeter. “I’ll go check on him,” she announced, flicking her tail.

“That went well,” Flora commented flatly.

I threw up my hands as we began our walk up to the porch. “He’s been moodier than the skies on an autumn day! Ever since that stupid Carnival Cauchemar, he’s been happy one second, angry the next, sulking in between all the rest! Even his eating habits are wonky.”

“He sounds like a teenager.”

“He sounds like a psycho!” I shoved my fingers into my hair at my temples, rubbing away the tension. “Ugh, let’s just focus on these wards.”

“Just a second, cider witch. You can’t go warding someone’s house without them knowing about it. That’s just rude. Yoo-hoo!” she called.

The older women, who were normally on their veranda in their rocking chairs during the daylight hours, had shunned the colder weather for the wood-heated stove inside.

When Daphne opened the door immediately at Flora’s holler, I knew she’d been eavesdropping this whole time. And why not? It was her porch. “Hello, ladies,” she still greeted warmly, wrapping her floral shawl tighter against her lean body against the chill, “to what—”

“No time for pleasantries, Daph,” Flora interrupted. “We gotta ward your house.”

“And you say I don’t have manners,” I muttered.

“Why?” Shari asked, coming to the doorway. She was wearing one of her crocheted hats, this one resembling a blue octopus devouring her head, its tentacles wrapped around her throat like it was trying to choke her. In reality, it was doing a very good job being both hat and scarf all in one headpiece.

“Magic hunters in town,” the garden gnome said. “They, um, saw Misty’s light a few weeks ago.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Well, that would make sense.” She gave me a kind look. “You did put on quite the spectacle, dear. Very unexpected.”

“I liked how bright it was,” Shari commented, leaving us at the door to go back to her crochet work at the table. Ever since she’d seen the demonic half-heart in the tree, she’d been crocheting granny squares instead of her normal zombie voodoo dolls or bizarre headwear. She had a whole collection of them in the wicker basket beside her chair.

“It’s just a precaution,” I assured Daphne.

She nodded, knowing better but still smiling gently. “Well, have at it. Come inside for a hot toddy when you’re done. Oh, and tell Sawyer that not all dogs are bad. I have a few nice ones at the shelter that would love to be farm dogs, if you change your mind. Might need a few stern words not to chase him, but I’m sure you two can handle that.”

“I’ll try to convince him.”

When Daphne went back inside, Flora and I marched a perimeter around the house, she going one way and me the other, green magic both at our fingertips. Between the two of us, we set a variety of repulsion and alarm wards, plus a signal flare ward that would activate sister spells at our own houses to alert us if anyone was causing the women real trouble.

Instead of socializing, we took our hot toddies to go and diverted from our original plan to ward Flora’s house to set up the new moonflower grove in the forest. We didn’t say much as we traipsed through the trees, Flora concentrating on memorizing the path and my mind reeling with way too many what-ifs.

Focus, Grandmother’s voice commanded.

I almost laughed. Focus, so I can work to evade you that much longer?

But she did have a point. Worrying about future what-ifs just robbed me of the concentration I needed to change the things of my present.

We found the elderberry grove easily enough, as the dormant shrubs resembled a vase-like collection of twigs. If you looked just right through the westernmost trees, you could just make out the fence that separated this forest from my apple orchard. For some reason I thought maybe I’d catch sight of Sawyer streaking by, but there was no sign of my cat, or Ame.

While I’d only been needled by his mood swings before, now I was getting worried. Had something affected him in the warlock’s wagon when he’d stolen the toirchim glaze? Or even worse, had his proximity to the demonic half-heart embedded in the grimoire somehow infected him?

When this was done, I’d pin him down and examine him, whether he complied or not.

As I worked on clearing the grove of leaf mold and twigs so the ground could more easily accept the five-gallon bucket of coffee grounds, Flora pulled out her wand and stuck it base-down into the soil. The tip glowed green, just like her fingers, and her gnomish magic drew up the water from deep underground. When she was done creating her vernal pool, complete with little subterranean passageways for water to easily drain into the grove, we got to planting the moonflower seeds and spelling the grove to keep away the frost.

I’d learned my lesson all the weeks ago when I’d had nothing in my pockets to entertain myself with while I’d been confined in the crystal barrier. Now they were full of spools of twine, spare crystals, sachets of dried herbs, potion and spell vials, and myriad other odds and ends. Plus trail mix, in case I got hungry.

I took some of those crystals out now to power the anti-frost spells, Flora confiscating one to ensure her vernal pool wasn’t reabsorbed by the ground.

“I’ll check on these daily,” I promised as we headed back to my car.

At Flora’s house, we performed similar spells, though the ones we laid had more of a bite to them. Flora was a garden gnome, one-hundred-percent Fair Folk, a walking magic cache. Of any of us, she was the most at risk. Though I’d seriously pay money to see someone take on that spitfire.

“Twice a day check-ins from here on out,” Flora said by way of farewell. “Morning and night, until they leave town.”

“Agreed.”

I stuck my hand out to wave as I got back on the road, heading home. There, I’d put more wood on the fire and start cooking up my own spells. Not to protect my house–the hearth would do that better than anything—but to catch a cat and demand some answers.