Overnights at my store are creepy. I mean, yes, I only have them two nights a week, on Friday and Saturday nights, and my boss is good about picking up the phone no matter what time some calls, but I feel like there’s something unnatural skittering through the dark just beyond the store lights. On the other side of the abandoned center booth in the middle of the lot. Maybe in the center booth itself.

No one ever goes in there. I doubt the boss knows what’s in there, now that I think of it. All I know is I feel eyes on me while I work the night shift and I have a serious itch to break out the salt. I think I’ll make another little miniature charm to seal the booth and tuck it into one of the gaps. Something. Even Nick is disturbed by the booth, the other overnight guy, and he’s the least prone to flights of fancy than anyone I’ve met in a long time.

Jack likes the change in routine. We take walks through the local park and I explain the powers moving through the place. He’s taken a real interest in the Mother and her creatures, how they are supposed to interact with each other. Thank the Gods for the inspiration. He’s clamoring to visit a live volcano next. I guess it’s good for him be so enthusiastic.

Blessed be.

The cactus seems to have worked for the moment. Whatever problem was about to manifest itself in our lives has back off to the outer fringes of my awareness, like a bad joke in a different room of the house. For now everything has settled into that same strange calm from before. I don’t trust it, but what else can I do?

Jack is excited for the end of the school year at least. I’m not. A bored child is never a good thing. With my new schedule at work, it’ll be a little easier to manage his boredom, though not by much. I’m likely to be exhausted a better part of Summer. I’ll push through and make sure I have plenty on hand to teach him.

I think that may be the best use of the hot days. Before the ex became the ex, Summer was filled with camping trips and his family gatherings. Every week there was something to do with them or for them. With just me and Jack, because mom and Angie refuse to do any activities during the day when it hits over 100 degrees, I can focus more on his spiritual teaching. Now, let’s see if I can stick to me new schedule.

Blessed be.

The tension has become almost unbearable in the span of a week and I don’t know how much of the stress I can take. It’s become so thick, I’ve bought a cactus and enchanted it with every repellent spell I know or could find in the hope that whatever badness is coming gets sucked into my prickly friend’s thorns and shredded first. It’s a lovely little plant, which seemed to embrace its chosen purpose with enthusiasm.

Otherwise the timeless march toward a blistering, strange Summer goes on. Already the temperature is on the rise and we’ll hit eyeball-melting hot within a month. I can’t wait for raucous monsoon season this year. After the weird Winter, the storms promise a grand show of wild.

In a way, I really hope the whatever is coming surprises me by just being a particularly dangerous monsoon season. Those I know how to protect Jack from. Real storms, while dangerous, are easy. I’ll petition for luck. My hope is that I’m answered or this weirdness I feel barreling down on us breaks soon. I hate surprises.

Blessed be.

It’s been a quiet week. Calm before the storm kind of quiet. The electric feeling of trouble has been gathering over my head for days since Donna thrust her nose in my business again. I don’t like the way this calm makes me twitch and reach for my cards. Not at all.

I think I’ll spin out some protective wards, maybe a few stronger works to hold in reserve. Even mom is on edge, more than her usual paranoia anyway, and she’s been up to her elbows in herbs and threads. She’s wrapping Jack in a protective magical bubble the likes of which I haven’t seen since I was very small. When I focus on the coming storm at all, it’s as though the center of it is twisting tighter around, funneling down into a catastrophic tornado. If I knew where it would land, I could either divert it or dissipate it. Sometimes Chaos blindsides even those of us who are aligned with it. Such is Its nature. We’ll have to ride it out.

Angie has hightailed it out of here for the duration of whatever is going to happen. For all that she’s a flighty social butterfly pretending to be human, my sister doesn’t like Chaos. She prefers her life to be well planned disorder, if that makes any sense.

The only one of us who is not worried about the feel of trouble coming is Jack. He seems to think we’re invincible, able to handle any problem which comes our way. I don’t want to burst his bubble. So far I’m going with rolling with the punches, but I’m worried one day will come too hard a hit. My boy thinks too highly of me, sometimes, even when I explain the mistakes I’ve made. I think I’ll make yet another plea to Set. Maybe He’ll have mercy on us. Maybe I’m jumping at ghosts.

Blessed be.