Sunrise by the Crossroads

Jerry and Sam, in their orange reflective jackets, were establishing the perimeter, sprinkling scented oil from their paper coffee cups. Their chant could be heard over the crackle of the radio and the rush of traffic. “…the painted lines, the rules confine…”

“We shouldn’t even have to refresh the hex yet,” Carlie griped. “Last month’s spell would’ve held fine against normal traffic.”

“Lotsa powerful spirits bound to cars these days.”

“Fuckin’ Ford,” said the foreman. “Everyone knows bull demons are hard as hell to keep under control, but they just had to have the biggest, studliest cars on the market.”