On the ground, and Old Mother Madge stood between Fen, Magnus, Kale, and Julian and the fast-moving pack of twenty charging werewolves. Holding out their hands, the witches braced their feet against the ground and chanted together. “When danger lurks and my own power has keeled, I call upon my ancestors to craft a shield.”
A white bubble, not dissimilar to Griff’s force field, wrapped around the entire group, stopping the attacking werewolves like a brick wall.
“Damn, magic is so cool,” Fen chuckled with amazement, watching as each pouncing werewolf was shocked by the magical perimeter.
“Sounds like one of those bug zapping lights,” Magnus said cheerfully, giving Fen’s arm a squeeze.
“Maybe we should get that scythe out just in case, huh, Fen?” Kale asked, nodding his head toward the weapon hanging on his back.
“Oh!” exclaimed Fen, grabbing the handle of the sword and unsheathing it. “Right. I forgot about that.”
“So, who can enter this little bubble?” Julian asked, tapping the magical shield with his fingers as he stepped up to the witches responsible for it.
“No werewolf,” replied . “For now, anyway.”
“And are Pruitt and Darcy about to come back possessed like the rest of these guys?” Julian nodded toward their bodies.
“ No comment ,” said , a nervous sweat forming on his forehead.