cottage.
Glancing that way, he was relieved to see that Jock hadn’t left the stoop. Though he must’ve gone inside the cottage at some point during Graeme’s summoning, because the door now stood more than a little ajar. Jock was adept at opening doors, latched, knobbed, or otherwise, as long as the door wasn’t locked.
He also had a penchant for sneaking treats from the kitchen cupboard when Graeme wasn’t around. Jock’s present air of exaggerated innocence warned that that particular habit was the reason for the half-opened door.
But Graeme would deal with Jock’s overeating later.
Just now, he turned back to the sea, thanking the elements for the blessings they’d given him and releasing any excess energy back whence it’d come.
He kept only the charged water and sea tangle.
These he’d use to place a protective shield around his house and property, warding against the intrusion of anything negative or evil.
Hoping to take advantage of the evening quiet—Pennard residents were known for their curiosity, but most would now be gathered at the Laughing Gull—he left the little strand and crossed to the landward side of the road where the Keel awaited him.
He skirted Kendra Chase’s car, not even glancing at it, lest thoughts of her rush into his mind. Her essence still clung to the vehicle, humming in the air. His heart thudded, proving how easily she’d captivated him.
She could make him forget time and duty.
Even now, he could imagine claiming her mouth with his, threading the fingers of one hand in her hair as he kissed her, and using his other hand to whip off her bulky, waxed jacket, revealing the woman beneath.
Graeme fought back a scowl, pushing her from his thoughts.
This was no time for such intrusions.
And that’s exactly what she was.
Before he lost his concentration entirely, he walked back to the barrel shed and removed the withered bundle of seaweed tacked above the door, and replaced it with a few strands of the fresh sea wrack.
He also set down the pail and dipped his hand into the cold water, flicking droplets onto the shed’s ancient, salt-crusted wood.
“By my will and the powers of all worlds, no darkness may tread here.” He stepped around the shed, going sunwise, and spoke shielding words as he trailed a line of water along the foot of the cliff behind his house. “Onlythose I wish to see may cross this boundary. Blessed be this place and those welcome here.” He circled around the cottage’s far corner, replacing old seaweed with new and dabbing water along the windowsills. “Nothing evil can touch these walls and those within.”
Almost finished, he reached the front of his house and stepped back onto the road. Setting down the pail beside his blue-painted bench, he scooped up a handful of the seawater and flung the droplets above and beneath the cottage’s blue-rimmed windows.
“No harm will come to this good and blessed place.” He took a breath, vowing not to let more than a month pass before he renewed the boundary ward.
To complete the blessing, he poured a thin line of water along the edge of the road, a necessity because Pennard’s single row of seafront houses all opened directly onto Harbour Street’s pavement.
“And I”—he’d almost emptied the pail—“will continue to guard this property to the best of my ability in all the days to come.”
It was only when he returned to the front door, expecting to have to cajole Jock into moving aside so he could dash the remaining water at the door lintel, that he noticed the dog was gone.
Sure Jock had gone looking for another tasty, normally off-limits tidbit, Graeme finished the warding. He was just reaching to fix the last of the seaweed above the lintel when the dog popped his head around the door, peering out from the shadows of the entry.
It was a stealthy move.
And the cunning in Jock’s eyes made Graeme instantly suspicious.
He flashed a look at the dog as he worked
Glancing that way, he was relieved to see that Jock hadn’t left the stoop. Though he must’ve gone inside the cottage at some point during Graeme’s summoning, because the door now stood more than a little ajar. Jock was adept at opening doors, latched, knobbed, or otherwise, as long as the door wasn’t locked.
He also had a penchant for sneaking treats from the kitchen cupboard when Graeme wasn’t around. Jock’s present air of exaggerated innocence warned that that particular habit was the reason for the half-opened door.
But Graeme would deal with Jock’s overeating later.
Just now, he turned back to the sea, thanking the elements for the blessings they’d given him and releasing any excess energy back whence it’d come.
He kept only the charged water and sea tangle.
These he’d use to place a protective shield around his house and property, warding against the intrusion of anything negative or evil.
Hoping to take advantage of the evening quiet—Pennard residents were known for their curiosity, but most would now be gathered at the Laughing Gull—he left the little strand and crossed to the landward side of the road where the Keel awaited him.
He skirted Kendra Chase’s car, not even glancing at it, lest thoughts of her rush into his mind. Her essence still clung to the vehicle, humming in the air. His heart thudded, proving how easily she’d captivated him.
She could make him forget time and duty.
Even now, he could imagine claiming her mouth with his, threading the fingers of one hand in her hair as he kissed her, and using his other hand to whip off her bulky, waxed jacket, revealing the woman beneath.
Graeme fought back a scowl, pushing her from his thoughts.
This was no time for such intrusions.
And that’s exactly what she was.
Before he lost his concentration entirely, he walked back to the barrel shed and removed the withered bundle of seaweed tacked above the door, and replaced it with a few strands of the fresh sea wrack.
He also set down the pail and dipped his hand into the cold water, flicking droplets onto the shed’s ancient, salt-crusted wood.
“By my will and the powers of all worlds, no darkness may tread here.” He stepped around the shed, going sunwise, and spoke shielding words as he trailed a line of water along the foot of the cliff behind his house. “Onlythose I wish to see may cross this boundary. Blessed be this place and those welcome here.” He circled around the cottage’s far corner, replacing old seaweed with new and dabbing water along the windowsills. “Nothing evil can touch these walls and those within.”
Almost finished, he reached the front of his house and stepped back onto the road. Setting down the pail beside his blue-painted bench, he scooped up a handful of the seawater and flung the droplets above and beneath the cottage’s blue-rimmed windows.
“No harm will come to this good and blessed place.” He took a breath, vowing not to let more than a month pass before he renewed the boundary ward.
To complete the blessing, he poured a thin line of water along the edge of the road, a necessity because Pennard’s single row of seafront houses all opened directly onto Harbour Street’s pavement.
“And I”—he’d almost emptied the pail—“will continue to guard this property to the best of my ability in all the days to come.”
It was only when he returned to the front door, expecting to have to cajole Jock into moving aside so he could dash the remaining water at the door lintel, that he noticed the dog was gone.
Sure Jock had gone looking for another tasty, normally off-limits tidbit, Graeme finished the warding. He was just reaching to fix the last of the seaweed above the lintel when the dog popped his head around the door, peering out from the shadows of the entry.
It was a stealthy move.
And the cunning in Jock’s eyes made Graeme instantly suspicious.
He flashed a look at the dog as he worked
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