Sighing to yourself, you start driving round in circles. If it works for the car park at the local supermarket, then it should work here too. After all, this is the kind of sharp reasoning and impeccable logic that followers of The Elder Goddess Zuccax must display at all times.
As you drive round in circles, you remember one of the secret rituals that you read about on the Order’s website. It involved walking around in a circle precisely eight and three-quarter times and then muttering certain ancient forbidden incantations.
You can’t remember the exact words, but you mutter something under your breath as you make another circuit of the car park. Nothing happens. You mutter something else under your breath.
Whoosh! Before you can finish your sentence, one of the parked cars is engulfed in flames. You brake sharply and watch as the car goes from red hot to white hot and then to nothing more than ashes and scorch marks on the gravel.
For a second, a terrible feeling of guilt fills the pit of your stomach. Still, a free parking space is a free parking space. Much to the curse moon’s bitter chagrin, things are finally starting to look up for you.