There were too many things going on at once for Emmaline to keep track. Ties and tethers leapt into being in her magical sight, like competing puppeteers trying to work the same marionette. Flames leaped over the creature as the two men ducked and weaved, hurling their improvised firebombs, igniting the bark and wood where it was dry enough to allow such things.
 
She didn’t understand what was going on and that made her uncomfortable. Action was the only tonic for indecision her mother was fond of saying. Lowering her athame, she reached down and half lifted, half helped Morgan to her feet. The half familiar buzzing sensation began at the back of her mind as their skin touched. Carefully she helped the other woman into the car.
 
Turning back towards the creature she found it surprisingly indecisive. It seemed by turns irritated by the flames and intent on turning Rob and Jacob into greasy smears and regarding Amanda with a type of curiosity. Not friendly exactly but neither did it move to smite the girl. Beth was out of her sight, in the garden centre doing… something. Emmaline pursed her lips. Blood magic made her uncomfortable. So much imprecision in blood, its centrality to life gave it power and meaning but there was always an element of flux to it that she mistrusted.
 
Carefully she reached out for the bundle of emotions that considered itself Beth Buchanan. She was careful not to brush the other witches mind, keeping herself a respectful distance removed, but close enough to be noticed when the other woman had a free second. She pushed the image of the indecisive guardian towards Beth, trying to keep her own analysis out of it. Thoughts could be could be easily coloured by the opinions of the observer.
 
“What is going on?” she asked, cutting her eyes towards Morgan.