Chapter 27

As she gazed out toward the water, she pulled the vitality from the circle to her like a long, dark cape, the kind the witch wore in Sleeping Beauty. The stepmothers had always gotten a bad rap in those films, women of strength and ambition who weren’t afraid to grasp power. The lingering energy shimmered, disturbed, and she knew it wasn’t from the fault. She draped herself in that cloak, pulled it closer to breathe it in, imagining mayhem and death. Asmodeus in bloody pieces, her raining fire over him, over all of it. A warrior Goddess of vengeance and death.

A growl disrupted her concentration. She’d put Jerry to bed, knowing he was worn-out, but now, lowering her gaze, she saw Rubby Australian shepherds sitting on the other side of the circle, regarding her steadily. The way dogs watched intruders. Their earlier friendliness was replaced by wariness, hackles raised, the growl continuing to rumble in the female’s throat.

With one sweep of her hand, she could turn them into nothing b