Inside the dripping, stinking warehouse at the ancient oil refinery, Cinnamon felt the hunger gnawing at her as she paced the outer circumference of Juju Pete’s hermetic circle. Michaelson and Juju Pete were inside the circle, Michaelson looking bored as he sat and stared at Cinnamon with a scrutinizing eye. Juju Pete continued pacing the interior, sustaining the complex formula of his spell. He limped more noticeably now, hours into the ritual.