“Well, who is it then?” I asked, with some real urgency. Now I believed her and I wanted to know who was in trouble.
“That I can’t tell, but wait, let me try something before the bad news gets to us,” she said and reached into her purse before pulling out a handful of items. Quickly and precisely, she grabbed a dessert plate, piled on some twigs and some gemstones, poured on some oily liquid, and commenced to chanting again. This time, when the other restaurant patrons stared, we didn’t care; we knew that whatever Hester was doing, it was for our own good. When she was done with her mantra, she lit the oily mess, clapped her hands, and shook her bracelets. Chills ran up and down my spine. I prayed that her spell would work. Then I realized how silly that sounded and prayed twice as hard.
