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he’s nasty. We haven’t been able to trace the magic back to its source, but we are fairly certain it’s him.”
    “Hmmm. I guess we’d better prepare for the worst.” She didn’t sound angry. It was all very matter-of-fact.
    “That’s probably not a bad idea. If you see anything at all suspicious, you definitely want to check it out.”
    “We always do, dear. I suppose the coven will be glad to have something to do. It’s been rather quiet while you’ve been out of town.”
    There was the tiny dagger in my side. I’d wondered when she’d get in a dig. The funny thing is, she’s also one of my mom’s best friends from college and they are so much alike in that way. It must have something to do with being a mother.
    “We’re meeting next week, and would love for you to join us.” That was a nice way of saying, “Young lady, the least you could do is come help us strengthen our protection spell.”
    “If I’m still in town, consider me there.” I turned the oven timer so it would go off. It buzzed on cue. “Oh, there goes the buzzer. Have to run, but thank you. I’ll see you soon.”
    After we hung up, I headed to the laundry room off the kitchen and sorted out the dry cleaning from the stuff that could be washed. I loaded the first washer full of clothes, then headed for the work-room.
    Talking to Peggy made me think. It wasn’t just my life at stake if Jason found me here. The whole town could be in danger. I’d pulled out my Book of Shadows when the phone rang.
    Darn, doubling up on the protection would have to wait a few more minutes.

Five
    Sweet, Texas
Wednesday
9 p.m.
Witches with crazy mothers: 1
Dead guys: 0, but the night is young
    T here are days when you shouldn’t answer the phone. Really.
    “We haven’t heard from Brett in more than three weeks.” Mom was at O’Hare. She and Dad had been at a medical conference in Chicago. A surgical specialist, Dad had given the keynote speech at the dinner the night before. Mom’s a really powerful witch who turned from the ’craft to teach literature. She prefers the magic of prose to throwing fireballs.
    I headed out to the garden. It’s usually better for me to be pounding dirt around my herbs when I’m talking to my mom. I mean, we get along great, but she’s my mother. She drives me crazy. Everything was green, which meant Sam and Caleb had been looking after my place. They are such good guys.
    “Bronwyn?”
    Oops. I hadn’t been paying attention. “Sorry, Mom. The connection’s weak out here in the conservatory.” Big lie, but she was so concerned with my butthead brother that she didn’t notice. “Communication in the jungle is tough, you know that. You and Dad were just there a little over a year ago working with Brett. Sometimes he goes weeks without a shower. I wouldn’t worry that he hasn’t sent an e-mail.”
    Hmmm. Time to re-pot the rosemary .
    “You don’t understand. I’m his mother and I feel like something isn’t right.” She sounded very unlike my mother, a little hysterical. She’s usually so Zen, with a side order of bossy. Some people call it passive-aggressive, but she’s never hysterical.
    “What do you want me to do, Mom?” That sounded mean. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. I’m just trying to figure out what it is you need from me.”
    “Search for him, Bronwyn. You are one of the most talented witches on the planet. Open up that brilliant mind of yours and look for him.” The hysterics were gone. The Bronwyn-clean-your-room-now! Mom was on the other end of the line.
    “I can try, but he’s good with the shields. He always has been. He never lets me in. But I’ll try.”
    Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes. It took a few seconds, but I saw him in the jungle arguing with a man. It’d been years since I’d seen him in anything but khakis and a T-shirt, and he didn’t disappoint. There was something different about him. He seemed thinner than I’d ever seen him. He looked to the