She hissed out a breath. “If he comes after her, he’ll have to get through you.”

“Close enough. Shouldn’t you be out on patrol, or would you rather take the paperwork portion of our day?”

“I’d rather eat lice.” She put on her cap, yanked the tail of her hair through the back. “Look, I’m glad you found someone who suits you. I’m even more glad I like her. But there’s more to Nell Channing than a nice woman with a murky past who can bake like a team of angels.”

“You mean she’s a witch,” he said easily. “Yeah, I figured that out. I’ve got no particular problem with it.” So saying, he went back to the keyboard, chuckling to himself when Ripley slammed the door behind her.

“The goddess doesn’t require sacrifice,” Mia said. “She’s a mother. Like a mother, she requires respect, love, discipline, and wants happiness for her children.”

The evening was cool. Mia could already scent the end of summer. Soon her woods would change from green and lush to wild color. She’d already seen the woolly caterpillars, watched the busy squirrel hoarding nuts. Signals, she thought, of a long, cold winter.

But for now, her roses bloomed, and the most tender of her herbs trailed fragrantly among her garden stones.

“Magic springs from the elements, and from the heart. But its rituals are best served with tools, even visual aids, if you will. Any craft depends on certain routines and implements.”

She walked through her garden to her kitchen door, opened it for Nell. “I have some for you.”

The room was as fragrant as the garden. Hanks of herbs dried on hooks. Pots of flowers that Mia had chosen for indoor company stood on the long line of smooth counter. What could only be described as a cauldron sat on the stove, simmering away with the strong sweetness of heliotrope.

“What are you cooking?”

“Oh, just a little charm for someone who has a job interview later in the week. She’s nervous.” Mia passed a hand through the steam. “Heliotrope for success, sunflower for career, a bit of hazel to assist in communication—and this and that. I’ll empower some suitable crystals for her that she can carry in a pouch in her purse.”

“Will she get the job?”

“That’s up to her. The Craft doesn’t promise us everything we desire, nor is it a crutch for weak spines to lean on. Now, your tools,” she continued, gesturing to the table.

She’d selected them carefully, with an image of Nell in her mind.