I’m standing in the center of Ezra’s living room staring into his eyes. His expression is stricken. He’s standing between Bea and I, as if he’s shielding her from me. I drop my gaze to the ground. The herbs and flowers that had encircled me have been blown to the edges of the room. The chalk symbols are scuffed and unintelligible. The candles have all blown out, some toppled to the ground. It’s as if a strong wind had burst from the center of the circle and blasted everything ...