Chapter Thirty-Three
Stella’s voice rang out from the kitchen, loud and cheerful over the hum of conversation.
“Maeve! Bring that coffee and come here. We’ve got a Christmas dinner to make!”
I set down my mug and obeyed, weaving my way around the others scattered throughout the living room.
Frank snored softly near the fireplace, oblivious to the flurry of holiday activity. Nova stood by the window, tapping on her phone, and Keegan lounged by the table, nursing a cup of cocoa in thoughtful silence. Twobble had disappeared the moment talk of cooking began, presumably to avoid being drafted into kitchen duty.
When I reached the kitchen, Stella took stock of the ingredients piled haphazardly on the counter—canned goods, half a loaf of bread, a smattering of produce, and various spices.
I cleared my throat. “Um, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not exactly stocked up for a grand feast.”
Stella snorted, tying on an apron.
“Has that ever stopped me before?” She arched a brow at me, flashing that mischievous grin of hers. “We’ll make do. We always do.”
I couldn’t help but grin back. “Point taken.”
Just then, Twobble strutted in, looking far too proud for a goblin who usually complained about domestic tasks. He hopped onto a stool and eyed the array of ingredients.
“Did Maeve fail to mention her exploding brownie experiment?” he asked Stella, his tone downright smug.
My ears burned at the memory.
“Twobble,” I warned, though I was half-laughing already.
Stella’s eyes went wide with delight. “Exploding brownies?”
I shrugged, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
“In my defense, I only used the wrong word in the incantation once. But apparently, that’s all it takes.” I paused, folding my arms. “I swapped ‘right’ for ‘might’—or maybe it was the other way around—and, well… words matter.”
Stella tossed her head back with a laugh.
“Oh, they always do, dear. Never underestimate the power of one tiny slip when you’re dabbling with magic, feelings, or chocolate.”
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Lesson learned.”
Twobble hopped off the stool and nudged a jar of flour. “I just hope you’re not planning on any fiery pastries for Christmas. I’d like to keep my eyebrows, thank you very much.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, Twobble. This time, I’ll stick to a basic recipe. No incantations required.”
Stella patted me on the shoulder, then rubbed her hands together.
“Where’s the fun in that? Now, enough chatter. Let’s see if we can conjure something festive. I’m thinking roasted vegetables, a hearty stew, and maybe a fruit pie, assuming I can find some fruit around here. Think you can manage that, Maeve?”
I straightened, feeling oddly excited. “Yes, Chef!”
Stella grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
And with that, we set to work, the kitchen filling with laughter as we did our best to turn a simple collection of ingredients into a Christmas dinner worth remembering—even if we had to rely on a little magic to help it along.
Stella perched a bowl on the edge of the kitchen table, fingers drumming against a jar of dried herbs, her eyes shining with that spark of mischief I’d come to love (and occasionally fear).
“Life advice time,” she announced, wiggling her brows. “Always keep two foolproof spells up your sleeve. One for a grand feast and one for a quick getaway. Trust me. You never know when either will save your bacon—or your dinner, for that matter.”
I couldn’t help but laugh as she handed me a parchment with instructions to conjure a rib roast.
“You’re joking, right?” I asked, glancing over the beautifully looping script. The list of ingredients was short, but the incantation below was a paragraph long. “You said stew?”
“Ah, can’t have Christmas without a roast.”
“Seriously? Me?”
“Dead serious,” Stella said, tapping the parchment. “You see, the key is confidence. If you doubt yourself for even a second, you’ll end up with a rubber chicken instead. Or rubber rib roast, arguably worse because it will just sit there taunting you.”
I nodded, my excitement growing despite my nerves.
“All right, confidence. Got it. That idea seemed like a running theme.” I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and recited the incantation, focusing on the essence of tender meat, potatoes crisped to perfection, and asparagus roasted in just the right amount of garlic butter.
A warm tingle ran through my fingertips, and the air around me shimmered in a soft haze.
Slowly, the outline of a rib roast began to form on the counter, golden crust sizzling as if it had just come from the oven. Stella let out a triumphant whoop beside me, grinning from ear to ear.
“See?” she said, elbowing me gently. “Confidence. Also, a dash of thyme.” She handed me another jar, and I carefully sprinkled the aromatic herb over the potatoes and asparagus materializing alongside the roast. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.
I couldn’t help it.
I shrieked loudly in sheer delight. Magic had caused its fair share of trouble, but this moment felt like a wonderful, normal spell gone right.
The roast looked mouthwateringly perfect, the potatoes crispy on the edges and the asparagus bright green and lightly charred. This was the Christmas feast Stella had promised we could make, conjured into reality with a few spoken words and a dash of bravery.
Suddenly, thunderous footsteps pounded outside the cottage. Before I realized what was happening, the door burst open, and every gargoyle in Stonewick seemed to come crashing inside, led by Karvey at the front.
His wings spread, and he barreled into the kitchen with grim determination, ready to battle a fearsome beast. Frank growled by my side, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Maeve!” Karvey roared, eyes darting wildly around. “What evil has befallen you?”
I blinked, caught between hilarity and embarrassment. Stella stood there, spatula in hand, eyebrows arched as she took in the stone intruders.
“Uh… surprise?” I offered meekly, cheeks burning. “Everything’s fine. I just got a little excited. Sorry. It wasn’t a shriek of terror. It was excitement.”
Karvey snorted, folding his wings with a disgruntled huff.
“Never shriek like that again,” he grumbled, but I couldn’t miss the genuine relief in his stony gaze. And despite the chaos, I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Who knew we had the fun police on the property?” Stella teased.
Karvey and his crew trudged outside, declining our invitation to stay with us for the holiday evening.
The smells of our conjured feast filled the small cottage, warmth radiating from the oven and the crackling fireplace.
Outside, the last pink streaks of evening light disappeared into a dark winter’s night. Snow glimmered in the yard like the stars had fallen, and a comfortable hush settled within the cabin.
For a moment, I believed everything was right in the world—no curses, no shadowy figures watching us from the darkness.
Keegan sat across from me at the dining table, arms folded loosely over his chest, though I could see the tension in his posture. Stella hovered by the counters, ferrying over bowls of steaming vegetables and fresh rolls as Ember and Nova helped pass the plates around. Twobble had somehow claimed the best seat, perched on a plush cushion he’d unceremoniously dragged in from the living area.
“Well,” Stella announced, placing a roasting pan on the table with a flourish. “Shall we all try Maeve’s magical rib roast?”
I forced a grin, still a bit self-conscious about the idea that I’d used an incantation to cook our meal, but the enthusiasm around the table was contagious. Plates were piled high, and glasses were filled. Talk of Christmas memories, playful banter, and half-baked New Year’s resolutions floated around. Under normal circumstances, all things that would have brought a warm glow to my heart.
But as dinner wound down, a heavier thought tugged at me, pulling me back to the conversation I’d been avoiding.
Gideon, my grandfather, the curse, and—most importantly—shifters.
When the conversation lulled to silence, I moved in my chair and tried to work up the nerve to bring it up. Finally, between bites of roast, I cleared my throat.
“So,” I began, meeting Keegan’s gaze, “I learned a lot at the Academy. Probably more than I wanted to.”
Everyone paused.
After taking a sip of water, Stella set her glass down carefully. Nova’s brow furrowed, and Ember glanced at Keegan, bracing for his reaction.
Twobble, on the other hand, merely stopped mid-chew, eyes darting from me to Keegan.
Keegan exhaled, reaching for his cup. The flame of the nearest candle reflected in his eyes, giving them a distant, haunted look. “Anything you want to share?”
I wet my lips, pushing aside my potatoes.
“I was thinking about shifter clans and hierarchy… and whether Gideon’s wishes had anything to do with it in a broader context. With the curse, too.”
“You’re mixing a dangerous brew there, Maeve,” Stella murmured, almost like a warning.
I nodded. “I know. But the more I learn, the more I feel that the shifters’ roles are vital to understanding.”
I knew I needed to tell them who breached the Wards.
Keegan set down his cup.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Gideon certainly made an example of the shifters that were left behind.”
My eyebrows shot up. Plural?
A memory tickled the back of my mind. Keegan had mentioned something once before, in an offhand remark, about how most shifters had fled Stonewick. But he’d also said something else. He’d said two remained…or had that been Nova who said it?
But two.
Could that have been my grandfather lurking around, and now Gideon had got to him?
A chill danced down my spine, and my mind filled with half-remembered fragments.
Keegan’s tense expression whenever the subject of shifters came up, the way he’d close off like a door slamming shut. Now, I realized it wasn’t just him. There was someone else. Perhaps he was also trying to protect the other shifter.
“Wait,” I said, sitting up straighter. “ Shifters , plural? You mean there was more than one?”
Keegan’s eyes flicked to me before looking away.
The entire table went silent for a moment as if a collective breath had been held. Even the gargoyles on the roof went silent.
Finally, Keegan nodded. “Yeah. I said before most fled. But two didn’t.”
The space around us seemed to tighten.
I glanced at Stella, who pressed her lips together, looking like she knew more than she wanted to say. Nova seemed equally tense, fiddling with the edge of her napkin, while Ember stared at Keegan with wide, unsure eyes.
“What happened to the other shifter?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
Keegan shrugged, but the motion was stiff, forced.
“Same thing that happens when you’re on the wrong side of Gideon’s wrath.”
Nova cleared her throat, setting down her fork.
“Keegan,” she said gently, “maybe it’s time Maeve knew the full story.”
He lifted a brow, something close to defiance lighting in his eyes. “And who says I know all of it?”
Nova’s expression softened. “You know enough.”
A tense beat followed, and I gripped my fork so tightly my knuckles turned white.
Why was it so hard for people to just say what needed to be said around here?
I reminded myself that these topics were wounds to the town—old scars that still bled for those who had lived through them. They weren’t just stories but personal histories of betrayal, pain, and survival.
“Look,” I said softly, trying to ease the tension. “I don’t need to know every detail right this second. … if there’s a connection…if Gideon’s actions had something to do with the curse, and if there’s more than one shifter left behind, it might be important for me to know.”
Keegan ran a hand over his face like he was wrestling with whether to speak. Eventually, he gave a short nod.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell you what I can.”
I exhaled, relief and apprehension swirling in my chest.
Stella glanced around the table, reading the room, and began filling glasses with water again. Twobble leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity, while Ember inched closer, preparing herself for what might come next.
Frank sat at my feet and scratched his ear before settling in with a snort.
But Keegan surprised me by reaching for his fork again and eating a few more bites of the rib roast in silence. He needed to gather his thoughts or build the courage to speak about something he’d kept locked away for a long time.
I wasn’t about to rush him. Instead, I glanced down at my plate, forcing myself to take a bite. The food tasted wonderful, but my appetite had vanished, replaced by a roiling tension that coiled in the pit of my stomach.
Finally, Keegan set his fork down and inhaled, looking me square in the eye.
“What you have to understand, Maeve,” he began, “is that Gideon’s been at this for a long time. He didn’t just cause the Academy to shut itself away—he built an entire network of power, often by sowing fear and cutting down anyone who opposed him. Shifters… well, they used to be strong here, part of the fabric of Stonewick. Same with the fae. But when things started to go bad, most left. The ones who stayed behind did so because they had loyalty to something other than themselves.”
He paused, and I nodded, encouraging him to go on.
“Anyway,” he said, rubbing a thumb along the rim of his glass, “he made an example out of them. Plural, yeah.”
And just like that, the tension ramped back up.
Iciness swept through me at the certainty in his voice, the memory of some horror he wasn’t yet sharing.
But at least now I knew. I wasn’t the only one with shifter blood swirling in my ancestry, and Keegan wasn’t the only remnant of that legacy still bound to Stonewick.
There was another.
And the way Keegan spoke of them and the very idea of it all weighed on him… it was no small matter.
I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “So, where—”
A sharp sound—maybe an intake of breath from Nova or Stella—cut me off. Clearly, we were diving into territory as dark as any curse the Academy might harbor.
The pain of his unsaid words scratched at the surface of silent conversation.
I looked around the table, realizing, with dread, how deep the roots of this story went. Gideon, the curse, the Academy’s closure, the shifters who were left behind…
It must have pained them more than they can even formulate. I remembered what my grandma said about patience and my grandfather. I needed to work on it because I didn’t like being cast in that bucket after seeing him breaching the Ward the other night.
But as the candles flickered, I remembered the first time I’d arrived in Stonewick, how I’d felt an odd sense of belonging mixed with apprehension.
Every step brought me closer to a truth I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.
That same feeling floated through my veins now.
Keegan shook his head as if he wouldn’t tell me the answer, or maybe he didn’t know.
So now was my chance to demonstrate patience and start a new conversation that might be easier on him and everyone. I’d get my answer eventually.
I looked over at Keegan, still staring at his fork, toying with the potatoes in silence.
“Oh, I was going to tell you before I found out it was Christmas that I think I know who breached the Ward.” I leaned forward, taking one last bite of the roast before placing my fork down.
The warmth of the kitchen fire seemed to dim under the weight of my words, and everyone looked up, expressions ripe with curiosity.
Keegan’s brow furrowed.
“How did you find out?” he asked. “We investigated every avenue and came up empty-handed.”
“The Academy helped guide me to the answer. That was one of the reasons I went,” I said simply, recalling how the corridors had led me into hidden places, nudging me toward the truth.
Nova straightened in her chair, leaning in with clear intrigue.
“And?” she prompted.
“It was my grandfather.” When I said the words, a tense hush spread through the room as though everyone was reeling from the revelation.
Anger flared in Keegan’s eyes.
He clenched his fists against the table. The muscle in his jaw ticked.
But before he could respond, Frank, my normally laid-back English bulldog, leaped up from where he’d been dozing. He charged toward the table leg, barking uncontrollably in a frenzied noise that startled everyone. The table shook, glasses went flying, and Frank rammed into the table again.
“Frank!” I shouted, my heart lurching.
His short, stocky frame quivered with agitation, jowls flapping as he growled and barked at shadows none of us could see.
His hackles bristled—something I’d never seen in him before—and he threw himself into the leg of the table so hard that a plate fell to the floor.
Nova jumped to her feet, her chair scraping the floor.
Stella clapped her hands, trying to calm Frank.
But the little bulldog refused to quiet. He spun in tight circles, nails scratching at the wood like he was ready to take on a phantom threat. His eyes were wild, bulging with a fearsome intensity that made him seem twice his size.
And he would not look at me.
“Frank!” I repeated, this time more firmly.
I moved toward him, stepping around the table to keep him from colliding with any chairs.
“It’s okay, buddy. It’s all right. I’m here for you.” My heart pounded. Even in the strangest circumstances around Stonewick, Frank had always been my rock, a calm presence who offered silent companionship. To see him so undone shook me more than the news I’d just dropped.
Keegan stood, his expression torn between anger at my grandfather’s betrayal and an unsettling understanding at Frank’s sudden outburst.
He reached down to help me corral the bully, but Frank snapped at the air, backing into a corner near the hearth with a low, throaty growl.
Stella shot me a wide-eyed look, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “We need to tell her.”
I shook my head, swallowing against the uneasy knot in my chest.
“Tell me what,” I whispered.
Frank’s barking continued in feverish bursts that echoed off the cottage walls, filling the once-cozy space with high tension.
His reaction wasn’t random.
Something dark and dangerous was linked to the secret I’d just revealed, but then Keegan looked at me, and I realized he was the one with the secret.