Page 47 of Fetch Me A Mate
"Good morning, Diana. How can we help?"
"Yesterday, some dangerous people came to the inn. They threatened Rowan, and by extension, they threatened my ability to keep this place safe." Diana accepted the tea gratefully. "I need to know how to ward something with more love than magic."
Lucien and Moira exchanged one of their wordless conversations, entire discussions happening in glances and subtle expressions.
"What kind of dangerous people?" Lucien asked.
"The shifter kind. The kind that make territorial claims and don't accept no for answers."
"Pack politics," Moira said quietly. "The worst kind."
"Can you help me or not?"
"We can." Lucien disappeared into the stacks, returning with an ancient leather-bound volume. "But it's not simple magic. What you're talking about requires community investment. Real investment, not just good intentions."
He opened the book to a page covered in spidery handwriting and detailed diagrams. "A protection ward anchored in belonging. It needs signatures from people who genuinely care about the place, who consider it part of their lives."
"How many signatures?"
"As many as you can get," Moira said. "But they have to be willing participants. People who understand what they're contributing to."
Diana studied the page, noting the careful instructions for gathering consent and channeling collective intention. "What do I tell them?"
"The truth," Lucien said simply. "That you're asking them to help protect something they value. That their signature represents a promise to stand by the inn and its purpose."
"And it'll work? Against pack threats?"
"It won't stop determined wolves," Moira admitted. "But it'll make them think twice about causing trouble on protected ground. Pack law respects certain boundaries, even when individual wolves don't."
Diana closed the book and held it against her chest. "Thank you."
"Diana." Lucien's voice stopped her at the door. "Be careful who you trust with this. Ward magic leaves traces. The wrong people will be able to sense what you're doing."
The square was coming alive with morning business as Diana began her canvas. First stop: Griddle & Grind, where Twyla was arranging fresh scones in the display case.
"I need signatures for a protection ward," Diana said without preamble. "People who care about the inn's future."
"How many people?"
"As many as I can get. Will you sign?"
Twyla didn't hesitate. "Course I will. What kind of protection are we talking about?"
"The kind that makes it difficult for unwelcome visitors to cause trouble."
"Those men from yesterday morning?"
"Among others."
Twyla pulled out a pen and signed her name with a flourish. "There. What else do you need?"
"Help spreading the word. Discreetly. I don't want to cause panic, just... gather support."
"Leave it to me."
Diana's next stop was the mercantile, where Edgar Tansley was arranging bottles of questionable contents on high shelves.
"Protection ward?" He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Haven't seen one of those in decades. You expecting trouble?"
