“Then why involve her?”
“Politics. Look, if I take a swing at Coven-member Mace, the third highest-ranked member of the La Paloma coven, it’ll bring the whole lot of you down on my head, and I don’t have the time or energy to deal with that level of BS. I only want to go after Desmond Mace, the creepy little bastard who zombified his wife. The best way to do that?—”
“Is through Margaux,” she said, gloomily.
“Well, yeah. It’s a long shot that I’ll get her permission, but I have to try. Is that going to bother you? If I go against the coven?”
“If it bothered me, I wouldn’t have called youin the first place.” She blew out a short, sharp, resolute breath. “Do whatever you feel is necessary to save Maya. Damn the cost. Thank you, Betty.”
She ended the call.
My story was going to be that Maya had approached me before she was spelled and asked me to investigate her husband. He’d been growing increasingly violent toward her, and she wanted to leave but was afraid. Bronwyn’s name wouldn’t enter the conversation except when Margaux brought it up.
And she would.
I might not like the woman, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d see right through my lame story, and it would be fine, because it wasn’t for her tobelieve, it was for her toacton. A way to save face with the rest of the coven.
“Cecil, I’m going to pull over by this cotton field. I know the farmer, and he won’t shoot me for trespassing. He doesn’t know you.” I shot him my most serious, most forbidding look. “He’s got a protection spell on his land similar to the one I have on the Siete Saguaros, so stay in the car unless you want to violently revisit that giant cookie you ate for lunch.”
Cecil shrugged one tiny shoulder.
“Trust me. Don’t try it. Mom performed the original spell, and I renew it every six months.”
That scored me a huffy little chitter.
I got out of the car, slipped off my shoes, and walked into the field, slowing my breaths, focusing on my footsteps. The soil here was cherished by the owners, and that was evident in the beautiful, healthy crops they grew.
When my magic had started to fail me, this was one of the places I’d come to feel better. We didn’t connect fully because the earth here didn’t belong to me, but the soil had always expressed joy at my presence and been generous about sharing its magic with me.
“Mother Earth, please lend me your magic.”
I drew in a deep breath. Released it slowly, counting from ten to one. I used the same process my mom and abuela had taught me as ayoung girl, because the first thing a Lennox witch learned was how to ground herself. It was the essential base from which all power arose. If a witch failed to ground herself, she ran the risk of being overwhelmed by her own magic.
The hex bag lay deep at the bottom of a nullification bag. I shook it out and watched it sink into the soil. I hovered my hands above the spot where it lay in a shallow grave and sent magic into it.
“Protect.”
The second the words left my lips, the soil shifted. My magic combined with the power in the soil to encapsulate the nasty bag in a protective bubble that kept any magic from fleeing. It was a necessary first step. I’d never run the risk of harming the soil or crops here.
“Reveal.”
The point of the spell was to temporarily nullify the bag so I could take a closer look. I needed to see what it was comprised of because I was about to show Margaux Ramirez the sort of fuckery one of her witches was up to, and if I went in without being fully informed, she’d crush me with doubt.
The woman was a pro at intimidation. I used to admire her for it.
The bag reflected my magic back at me, and I picked up traces of three different types of soils, fifteen different herbs, and a drop of blood to seal the lot. I’d be willing to bet that was Maya’s blood, and I didn’t want to think about how Desmond had procured it.
I let the spell spin out and brought the bag back to the surface.
“This is a dirty spell,” I said aloud. “And not in a good way.”
I turned the null bag inside out and used it like a glove to pick up the burlap bundle, shaking off the soil before turning the bag right side out again and sealing it with a length of twine.
That done, my feet sank an inch into the soil. Heat spread through my limbs. Not the red-hot feeling, but a gentle hugging warmth. After a few minutes of this, I thanked the earth for her generosity and dug my feet out, reveling in the almost electric feel of the soil on my skin.
It wasn’t easy to break free. Everything magic in me wanted tostay linked up with the earth here, even if it wasn’t mine. It was welcoming, and I deeply craved that acceptance from the soil.
“I’ll return.” I sent it a last pulse of magic, and it immediately reciprocated in kind.
