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The call forgotten, she dashed out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and to her ritual room. Unlocking the door, she hurried inside, to her tool bag, and drew out the map of Portland she’d used for the locator spell of the sigils. Heart racing, she smoothed the map out on the floor, her eyes flicking between the four spots that marked the location of the symbols.
With trembling hands, she grabbed a marker from the shelf next to her and began drawing lines between the sigils. One, between the first murder site they’d found and the third. Two, between the second location and the fourth. Three, between the fourth murder site and the first.
Pausing, she studied the four points on the map and the three lines connecting them. Measuring the distances between them, she applied it, extrapolated…and marked a fifth spot on the map, in equal distance from the second and third points, on the other side of Portland. From that fifth marker, she drew two straight lines to the second and third points—completing the pentagram.
Her breath hitched, her heart stumbling in her chest.
Steadying her shaking hand, she drew a circle around all five points of the pentagram, turning it into a pentacle…that enclosed the entire Portland metro area and beyond. Spanning from Eagle Creek and Sherwood on the most southern edge all the way to the north of Vancouver on the Washington side of the Columbia River, and from suburban Hillsboro to the west to the rural parts on the eastern side of Portland, it was a magical circle of unprecedented proportions.
Dropping the pen, she scrambled for the book on sigils, pulled it out of her bag, and flipped to the pages listing the possible combinations of the four discovered symbols with a fifth one.
Enhancing the harvest, blessing a house…there. Her trembling finger came to rest on the combination that could be used to amplify spells meant to cleanse… Her eyes tracked back to the supersized pentacle.
“What is it?” Rose asked from the doorway. “What have you found?”
“I know what she’s trying to do,” Hazel said, her voice hollow. Her eyes met Rose’s. “The witch. I know what spell she’s trying to do.”
“What?” Rose came closer.
Hazel pointed at the map, her entire body shaking now. “The sigils she’s laid are supposed to help with cleansing, but she’s combining them with a huge, powerful protective ward around the entire metro area. Wards like this, we use them all the time. We lay them around our houses and other vulnerable places, but much smaller. We’ve never done it on a scale like this, because it would take too much power. That’s why she needed the blood sacrifices.”
Rose sucked in a breath.
“But that’s not all.” Hazel’s voice shook. “A ward like this, it’s meant to keep evil beings out, right? Demons, shifters, and the like. But this”—she tapped the sigil combination—“this will not only keep demons out of the ward area…it will kill all those who are inside the circle when the spell goes active.” Her lips trembled, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Because she’s cleansing the area.”
Rose’s eyes widened. “Lily.”
Swallowing hard, Hazel nodded. “Lily. Alek. Rhun. Merle’s baby.”
Basil was thankfully far away in Faerie right now, but…Tallak. Her heart, battered, bruised, and broken it might be, it still ached at the thought of him coming to harm.
“If this spell goes active,” she rasped, her pulse racing, “they’re all going to die.”
Rose sank to her knees next to Hazel. “When?”
Inhaling sharply, Hazel studied the map again, her thoughts frantic. “Wards like this, they need their points laid at precise intervals, like I just did to block the energy of the tracing spell. The last murder happened Saturday night. The most recent one we found before that was from…” She paused, thinking back. “Monday night last week. Which means there are…” Heart hammering fast, she counted on her fingers. “Four nights between each ward point. So if the last sigil was laid this past Saturday, she’ll have to lay the final one—”
Her heart lurched, all blood leaving her face in a dizzying rush. Her eyes met Rose’s anxious gaze. “Tonight,” she whispered. “The witch is going to complete the spell tonight.”
Rose cursed in Fae. “What do we do?”
“We need to stop it.” Hazel tunneled her hands through her hair, despair making it hard to breathe. “If we can stop her from laying the fifth sigil and ward point, the spell won’t go active. We just need to get there before she kills the next human.” Her eyes flicked to Rose. “Me. I need to get there. You have to stay here. No!” She raised a finger. “Don’t argue. You promised. This is no different from those riots out there. You’re not firm enough in your magic to come with me.”
Rose swore again in Fae, something really filthy-sounding, and turned her head away, her jaw muscles flexing. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed at the circle of power containing the tracing spell in her line of sight.
“Look,” she said. “It’s done, no?”
Hazel jumped up and rushed to the circle, her eyes glued to the sheet of paper floating in midair…and to the name scrawled across in blood.
Laroche.
“Motherfucker,” Hazel whispered.
Whipping out her cell phone, she scrolled and tapped on the name. Her heart thundering in her chest, she waited as it rang.
After far too many seconds that felt like years, it clicked, and a youthful voice answered.
“Hello?”
