Vivian grabbed the black myrtle leaves and her dirty clothes from the bedroom. Laurence’s things were already gone when she got there. She’d hoped to see him one last time.

Maybe he’d call. She doubted it. He made it pretty clear what he thought of witches. She had the same prejudices about shifters, but after spending time with Laurence, she didn’t really feel that way anymore.

Out on the deck, the sky was bright blue as the ship pulled into Mystic Bay. The distance to the harbor drew closed and the ship came to port. After a few moments, the ship was secured to the harbor and the exit ramp lowered.

Passengers disembarked for a short detour, while Vivian felt like a condemned woman taking her final march to her execution. Marietta’s words played through her mind.

Only bad karma would come of her spell. Perhaps her first attempt already had brought bad luck down upon her head: the storm, the shipwreck, nearly drowning.

What choice did she have? Either she went back to Chicago with Harold, or she banished him. Both outcomes would result in her losing the life she loved, be it by choice or by chance.

She could never be happy as Harold’s slave in the Windy City. His coven were all as insane as he was, and their insanity grew each day. How he avoided the clutches of fate, she did not know.

Perhaps for those who were truly evil, evil did not punish them. Vivian sighed as she passed her shop, dark the last few days she’d been away. She walked to the glass door and put the lock in the key.

When she passed the entrance, her foot bumped an envelope, sending it skidding across the floor. Vivian closed the door behind her and went to pick it up. She tore through the paper and opened the folded letter inside.

I’m coming.

The letters were scrolled in blood. She knew Harold’s dramatic handwriting anywhere. He prided himself on his calligraphic technique. The paper dropped from her hand, landing softly on the floor at her feet.

She gasped and covered her mouth, her heart beating like a bass drum. She had to prepare. The waning moon would not be ideal for summoning, but with the black myrtle, the spell was complete.

Hurrying through her quiet shop, she grabbed all the items she would need to complete her task--oil of calamus, dried fish powder, deadly nightshade, fragrant honeysuckle petals, Himalayan salt, dried thyme, and cypress bark.

All she needed now was to gather the essential oil of the black myrtle. She needed only one drop to complete the spell. Vivian hurriedly set up her distiller and prepared the leaves she’d carefully harvested on Sea Cliff island.

Her thoughts briefly wandered to Laurence and the feeling of his hands on her skin, his lips on her mouth, his cock hard between her legs. She grimaced and pressed her eyes tightly closed. There was no time for that now. Laurence was inconsequential. He had been a rebound screw on the island. Two lost souls coming together for a bit of bump and grind. That was it. It was over.

She opened her eyes and groaned. God, she wished she could convince her body of that. Her nipples pricked just at the thought of him, and her clean panties had gone all moist.

Stomping her foot, she went to work putting the black myrtle leaves in the distiller. It would take hours for the first drops of essential oil to trickle down the tube and land in the tiny amber bottle she had ready to catch it.

As the still did its thing, she paced the dark shop. Her heart leapt like a spastic frog, and her pulse buzzed like the fly trying to escape the frog’s sticky tongue.

The phone rang and she answered it without a thought.

“Hello?” she said.

“Vivian! Thank God,” Marietta’s frantic voice pitched high on the other end of the line, her children’s laugher gathering to a chaotic crescendo at the same time.

“Mari. I’m so glad to hear your voice,” Vivian said. Her own voice sounded strained and sad. It was the voice of a woman on the edge, barely restrained.

“What’s wrong? Tell me,” Marietta demanded.

“I got the black myrtle,” she said with a sigh.

“You’re doing it? You’ll be damned, Viv. Mark my words. If not by the universe, then Mother will make sure of it.”

“I told you not to tell her.”

“You don’t think she already knows? You and I both know that woman has a thousand eyes and a million ears.”

“What else can I do?” Vivian whimpered, close to tears.

“Viv. Just come over. There has to be a way around this. Let Mother cast her deflection spell. It might buy you some time.”

“It’s too late. He’s already here. I got a note under my door, written in blood. It was his handwriting.”

“Vivian, let us protect you.”

“No one can protect me now, sister. Just stay away from me. Stay away. Don’t let my curse bring you down too.”

Vivian hung up the phone with a sob. Tears fell down her face as her features contorted in a full on ugly cry. She slid to the floor and held her stomach, thinking of all that she would never have and all that she had lost already.

After she’d finished spewing her hopelessness, she wiped her tears and stood up. If Harold intended to ruin her life, she’d ruin his right back.