The simple fact was, he was putting her in a hell of a pinch. He wanted her to keep an eye on Nell, and Ripley wanted to keep an eye on Zack. She hadn’t had an easy moment in the two days since he’d told her Nell’s story.

Blood on the moon, she thought. Nell’s vision of Zack covered with blood. A sociopathic, potentially homicidal husband, and Ripley’s own disturbing dreams. She hated knowing she was dipping into omen territory, but . . . hell, it didn’t bode well.

“What are you going to be doing while I’m baby-sitting the love of your life at Witch Central?”

There was something else he’d learned in nearly thirty years of knowing her. He could always count on Ripley. “Taking both our evening patrols, buying some takeout, and going home to a lonely dinner.”

“If you think that makes me feel sorry for you, think again. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.” She walked to the door. “I’ll go by Nell’s, tell her I want to tag along tonight. I want you to watch your back.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just saying.”

“I’ll watch my back.”

“And buy some beer. You drank the last bottle.”

She slammed the door because . . . just because.

Mia set out fresh charms. Every day, it seemed, the air got a little heavier. As if something was dragging it down. She glanced outside. It was already dark. There was so much night at the end of October, so many hours until dawn.

There were things it wasn’t wise to speak of at night, or even think. Night could be an open window.

She burned incense of sage to counter negativity, fastened on earrings of amethyst to strengthen her intuition. She’d been tempted to slip some rosemary under her pillow, to help chase away her troubled dreams. But she needed to see, needed to look.

She added jasper to the chain around her neck, a strengthener of energy, a reliever of stress.

It was the first time in years she could recall being so constantly hounded by stress.

Tonight wasn’t the time for it, she reminded herself. She was going to take Nell to the next step, and such things should be joyful.

She fingered the magic bag in her pocket, filled with crystals and herbs, and, as she’d taught Nell, tied with seven knots. She detested being so edgy, as if waiting and waiting for disaster to strike.

Foolish, really, when she’d been preparing for disaster, and how to divert it, all her life.

She heard the car, saw the streak of lights slash across her front windows. As she walked to the door, she visualized pouring the stress into a small silver box, locking it.

So she appeared to be her usual calm self as she opened the door. Until she saw Ripley.