I wondered if they were flying in planes or on broomsticks. With her, I wouldn't have been surprised to discover it was the latter. "I'm looking forward to it as well."

"Blessed be."

Static again. I pulled the phone away and saw Sam sitting before a switchboard with a headset on, acting like he was chewing gum and filing his nails. "Can you believe it used to be done this way?" he said as he jerked the wire from one spot on the board and plugged it into another. Then, with a bored expression he waved his hand and the props disappeared. He stood and the seat faded away. "Go on, get your wicked witchery done. I'm out of here." He walked out of frame.

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I sorted through the supplies and gave another thought to the Tarot card I'd pulled for a quick reading on what I was about to do. It had been the nine of wands. It meant steadfastness despite resistance; it meant acquiring leadership, a journey, a new and freer way of thinking. To me, it embodied encouragement to proceed.

Not long after I moved into the farmhouse, I had created a ring of mortar and topped it with various stones. Inside the ring the grass grew just as it did outside of it. Admittedly, mowing the interior wasn't easy. Measured precisely, the mortar had the compass points clearly marked, and five equidistant holes. Taking an eight-inch iron spike wrapped in copper wire from the basket, I dropped it into the first hole, leaving about an inch sticking up. After placing the other four spikes, I put candles on each compass point. Placing a tray in the center and assembling my supplies, I slipped out of my shoes, curled my toes in the cold grass, and began.

A new moon symbolizes the universe's natural and unrefined resources. It's a time to work, to begin projects, and apply that energy to good use. But this was the full moon, the manifestation of what was begun, and the answer from the divine. It was my intention to draw that culmination of events to me and embrace it as the Lustrata should. Through this ritual I would demonstrate my acceptance to the Goddess.

I cleansed and blessed the space with each element, lit the illuminator candles on the tray, and cast my circle just outside the mortar ring. Then, after lighting the quarter candles and calling the elemental spirits to guard my circle, I lifted a spool of glittering, silver ribbon. My fingers unwound it slightly and secured the end to the spike to my left. I unwound the ribbon to cross the circle and wind it around the right-side spike, repeating the move until I created a silver-ribbon pentagram. Starting from the left, this was also an invocation of water—the predominant element connected to this ritual's aspects.

My astrological correspondences were such that the sun had entered Scorpio and the moon was passing through Taurus. Though I'm not the sharpest witch when it comes to astrology, my experience tells me the sun-sign lends regeneration and resourcefulness at this time. The moon-sign influence made me see that what mattered most is ending the suffering that people—be they normal, furry, winged, or fanged—cause each other.

This was the night to ask for the wisdom to discern where instincts can help or harm. Recognizing and controling impulses was the only way to bring balanced co-existence to all. Combine all that with the wish-making of a blue moon and it was an opportunity I couldn't miss.

Stepping over ribbon to stand in the center of my circle, the center of my pentagram, I lifted my arms high and said, "I call upon the Mistress of the Mysteries! Upon She who is the Three Who are One! Past, Present, and Future… Queen of Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld. Maiden, Mother, and Crone! Queen of Witches! My Goddess, Hecate!"

Face to the moon, my breathing slowed and I centered myself, grounded myself. "As I draw down the moon, free its light, release its energy, impart your silver and gold power, entrust it to this body, and let it fill me."

I kept my eyes focused on the bright moon above. My mouth opened and my lungs drank the moonlit air. As if my spirit could stretch out from my lifted arms and brush fingertips across the lunar surface, I reached above. Setting my will into the astral, my wish under this blue moon, I let the words sing through my mind and leave my lips in a whisper, "I accept the mantle of the Lustrata. Place it upon my shoulders and grant me the wisdom to keep my feet upon this path that I may be what You have made me, that I may accomplish the goals You set before me, that I may be Your instrument, humble and just, and that I may fulfill my purpose."

Above myself, I saw my wish, my words, tumbling in the astral air. Symbols glowing, this pattern of light filtered down into the ethereal. There, to my amazement, each symbol became a circle. They looped in on themselves and linked together forming row after row like chain mail. Then this armor of light sank through the ethereal and down to my shoulders, my words, manifest. A badge with the balanced symbol of the scales rested over my heart.

Feeling this approval, this gift of Hecate, I felt my knees bend and I knelt.

"If I may be granted a wish, grant me knowledge that I may know when to dispense swift justice and when to offer aid. I wish to know my heart and trust it to be strong, to lead me well, and not to betray my purpose with foolish emotions. May my heart know the difference."

The next morning, while Beverley brushed her teeth, I carried the box of doughnuts and two six-packs of orange juice around to the storm cellar. Cars were lined down one side of my driveway as they usually were for the full moon. Two of them I didn't recognize. Assuming one belonged to Theo, she'd had to replace her wrecked SUV, the other made me mildly curious. It wasn't unusual for some waeres I didn't know to occupy the spare kennel. If they became regulars, though, it meant we'd have to add another section of caging to stay ahead.

Quietly, I descended the steps into this underworld of snoring waeres, pulling the cellar door shut behind me. Though I'd have preferred to let the light in, the cool air would follow me and I'd rather let them sleep. Their suitcases and duffels were piled near the steps. I stepped far out and around them as my eyes hadn't adjusted to the near-dark. I set the food and drinks in the center, then approached the first cage. Here, a black couple I didn't recognize cuddled together on the hay. After unlocking it, I moved on. Next, Celia and Erik spooned on their sides. Tom and Jericho Patrick—we called them Tom and Jeri like the cartoon—lay in the next kennel, and after them was Theo, lying with one leg over Feral, who sprawled on his back, legs and arms flung widely outward. I averted my eyes and tended the lock.

Lastly, I turned to the darkest, rearmost cage, knowing it was where Johnny always kenneled.

Even without their pom-poms, I recognized the blond twins that lay spooning on either side of him.

Busily attending the lock, my fingers performed the function automatically. Insert key, twist, pull.

Someone stirred in the hay. I looked down.

"Red," Johnny whispered. He stretched, remembered he wasn't alone, then seemed to realize what I was seeing. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.

"If you're able to talk before you leave, there's a conversation we need to have," I said softly, giving him the blankest of expressions.

I left the cellar.

An hour later, someone knocked on my door.

From my bedroom where the busywork of sorting laundry kept me from nonproductive pacing, I'd heard the cars leaving and expected this. I'd asked Nana to remain upstairs so we could have privacy. She promised.

At the bottom of the stairs, though, I grew worried. The shadows beyond my door meant far more than one person was waiting. And I could hear them whispering hotly back and forth.