4
Hell’s Bells
Lights blazed from every window as I pulled into the driveway of the Bigelow mansion, and I found myself letting out a little sigh of relief. Obviously, my mother had taken that particular piece of advice to heart.
I got out of my Beetle, clutching the jar of moon water I’d been keeping in my fridge for the next new moon ritual. Whether it would be a viable substitute for holy water, I had no idea, but it was the closest thing I had on hand. Globe had one small Catholic church, but I doubted whether Father Estevez would have appreciated me banging on his door at three in the morning and asking for a few bottles of holy water.
As I’d driven over to the house, I’d mentally recited every spell of protection I knew, even as I asked forgiveness from the universe for doing so
