The cauldron’s contents bubbled and boiled, as they do. Sister Crane double-checked her stone circle, then dropped a couple of cockle shells into the mix to turn the stew clear. The reflected image of the full moon snapped into focus.
“This idea is ridiculous,” Sister Sharpe said. Sharpe lounged on a hammock on the porch, and had contributed nothing to the spell. It was a cool night, and Crane pulled the sleeves of her knitted pullover down. Nearly all the ingredients were in place.
“Just tell me what the app says,” Crane snapped.
Sharpe rolled her eyes and consulted her phone. “You’ve got about a minute before perigee.”
Crane sat, crossing her legs and watching the sky. “This is definitely going to work,” she said. “I can feel it.” She lit the last of her candles and cupped it in the palms of her hands.
“It’s not even going to fit in there.”
“There’s a shrinking element in the mix. Now please be quiet.”
“I’m just saying,” Sharpe sighed. “The last time someone tried to summon the moon it didn’t work out so well for Atlantis. Do you even have a binding token?”
Crane nodded, and reached into the pocket of her sweater to show Sharpe the stone, obtained from a NASA gift shop. Sharpe scoffed and leaned back in her . “That’s probably just an aquarium stone,” she muttered.
“The potluck is in an hour, Sister. If you can think of a better way to make this much queso on short notice you’re welcome to try.”
“We could just go get some Velvee-”
“You shall not utter that name in my presense!” Crane shouted. The rock circle shivered. Crane took a deep breath to center herself and began the incantations. “Now please go chop the tomatoes.”