“Seriously?” Sawyer grinned. “You’re not going to like—”

He made a whooshing motion with his hand.

“I’m absolutely not, no. Two brooms would save time if we have them, and as I doubt we’ve a cauldron handy—I’ll be rectifying that soon—a large pot of water, three bowls. Glass or metal.”

While the others went to get what he needed, Bran went down to the lawn, set out white candles in a large ring on the grass.

He set the pot Sawyer hauled out to him in the center, crossed the two brooms in front of it, set out the bowls. Carrying his bag, he walked inside the ring.

“We’ll form a circle in the circle,” he said, and set the bag down. “You’ll need to clear and open your minds as best you can. And don’t break the circle.”

He glanced up to Sasha’s doors. “She asked for trust, so I’m trusting it’s the right thing to share what’s mine.”

He flung out his arms, and the white candles flamed.

Annika applauded, then hunched, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m apol—sorry.”

“Not at all.”

“It’s serious.”

“It is, but there should always be joy.” Now he held his palms up, elbows bent at his waist. “On this night, in this hour, I call upon the ancient powers. We cast the circle within this light, and here we make magicks white. I am your servant, your soldier, your son. All you bid I have done. These hearts and minds the fates entwined join here with me and cast together our destiny. As you will, so mote it be.

“Fire bright, candlelight.” Under the pot, flames sparked and lit. And the candles shot up white spears of light.

“Earth lift, air drift.” The ground under the bowls rose into smooth mounds. The crossed brooms floated a foot above the ground.

“Water clear, simmer here.”

As the water in the pot bubbled and steamed, Bran took crystals from his bag, closed them in his fists. When he opened them, he flicked the powder they’d become into the simmering water.

Vapor and blue smoke rose.

“Here I brew, here I make the veil of white, and all within are blocked from sight. Safe in body, mind, and heart.” As he spoke he circled the pot, circled a hand in the air that stirred the wind. “No power can this curtain part. And so all within remain concealed, my blood forms the seal.”

He took the knife from his belt, scored it across his palm. Flicked his blood into the vapor.

For an instant it washed red, seemed to pulse. Then it rose thick and white.

“So it is done,” he stated. He frowned down at his palm, closed his fist over the shallow wound.

“I feel like applauding myself.” Riley studied the floating brooms, barely resisted tapping one just to see what happened. “You put on a hell of a show, Irish.”

“In the immortal words? You ain’t seen nothing yet.” He smiled at her. “Take a broom.”

She did, ran her fingers over the handle. “Feels like a broom.”

“Because it is. If you’d take the other, Annika, and you’ll sweep over every door and window.”

“Every one?”

Laughing, he patted Riley’s shoulder. “As I said, big, bloody house. Doyle and Sawyer, you’ll take a bowl each, fill it from the pot. And you’ll sprinkle a bit of water along windowsills and thresholds. Think of it as the base layer.”

As Sawyer did, Doyle took a bowl, dipped it into the pot.

“What’s your second act?” he asked.

Bran took the last bowl, dipped it. Then, holding it in two hands, smiled again. “I’ll be bringing the curtain down from above.”

So saying, he levitated, rising up over the lawn, then the house.

“I hate to repeat myself, but holy shit. In any language,” Sawyer added.

“He’s got more than he let on.” Considering that, Riley propped the broom on her shoulder. “Okay, Anni, let’s get sweeping.”

*   *   *

Though it was barely dawn, Sasha made her way down to the kitchen. She thought she’d make breakfast, as she wanted to keep her hands busy—and hopefully keep everyone else’s mind off the fact that she’d paraded around half naked the night before.

Very first chance, she’d invest in some pajamas.

She found Riley already in the kitchen inhaling coffee.

“I thought I was the first up.”

Riley kept inhaling, shook her head. “Ended up researching late, conked a couple hours. Woke up restless and itchy. So coffee. Figured I’d break some eggs or whatever for breakfast, but now that you’re here . . . ”

“I’ll do it.”

“Even better. Nice necklace.”

Sasha lifted her hand to it as she walked to the refrigerator. “I was wearing it when I woke up. I assume it means something.”

“Closer look.” Riley slipped a finger under it, studied the stones and crystals. “Research mode tells me these are protective stones. To, like, ward off negative thoughts and intentions—against you. Since it’s easy money Bran put it on you, I’d say it’s potent and aimed at Nerezza. How’s your head this morning?”

“It’s fine. I need pajamas.”

On a hooting laugh, Riley walked back for more coffee. “I don’t think the little number you were almost wearing had the biggest impact. Not that you weren’t fetching.”

“Up yours, Riley.”