Sophie’s modest cottage was tucked away in a remote corner of Texas, not so far from civilization that she couldn’t reach help if she needed it, but not so close that she was constantly visited by nosy neighbors. It was a pretty stone cabin with a large vegetable plot to one side and a chicken coop on the other. A couple of goats roamed the grounds, keeping well away from the garden, probably because it had been spelled with some common protection charms. They bleated balefully at Hettie and Walker’s approach, and Hettie got the impression they were there as guardians more than for the milk they provided.
The Favreaus owned properties all over the country, but this safe house was Sophie’s alone, bought anonymously through a third party. Hettie had learned that the heiress had been making
