"Fucking stop it, will you!"
The shout cracked through the humid air like a whip, scattering the murmurs of the gathered crowd.
Elijah, who had just stepped into the clearing chosen for the ceremony, followed their gaze.
The place was already dense with incense smoke, the acrid tang of burnt herbs clinging to the back of his throat.
Saltwater mist drifted in from the shore, mingling with the scent until it felt almost suffocating.
Candles, charms, and hand-painted wards formed a loose ring around the space, each one swaying or fluttering faintly in the sea breeze.
No one noticed how one charm started to spin in the opposite direction from the rest.
Everyone's attention was on Father Nicholas, who had directly pinned one of the bosses to the tree. With one hand braced on a person's chest, he traced a hasty cross.
If Elijah's memory served him right, this man had been with Alexei when they left the pier.
