Magical Musing (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #2)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I awoke feeling like I’d slept for a week straight, but it had only been one night.

Okay…and nearly a full day.

But it was a glorious night with no hot flashes or wicked dreams.

Just sleep.

Dusk had already settled as I pushed the comforter off.

For a moment, I sat in silence. The past few weeks' events—no, months—unspooled in my mind, from the whirlwind knowledge that Frank was my father to the strange stirring of magic around the Academy to the fox making her presence known.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand, its face illuminated by a pale moonlight slant. I felt a jolt of regret as I realized most of the day was gone.

I had needed the rest, but the knowledge that the world had carried on outside these four walls while I slumbered so heavily left me feeling displaced like I’d missed out on something important.

Then again, I was constantly missing out, zipping by, walking past information that proved very important.

Exhaling, I caught sight of Frank’s bed near the door. The pillow and blanket I’d set there remained neatly arranged, but Frank—my dad—was nowhere to be seen.

A pang of emptiness flickered through me.

Sure, I was used to him wandering off if he sensed danger nearby or if Keegan needed help. Even as a bulldog, he was still a loyal sentinel.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d lost precious time with him. My father had been taken away from me.

Now, every moment I had with him felt extra .

And in that moment of loneliness, another loss stabbed at my heart.

Celeste.

My daughter.

She was off living her own life, forging a path in a world that didn’t even know about Stonewick’s secrets. Part of me still reeled from how quickly she’d grown, how she’d moved on, a swirling dervish of ambition and independence.

A boyfriend.

My biggest unspoken but always present fear was that the distance between us would become more than just geographical. That we’d drift so far apart we’d barely recognize each other. How would she react if she saw me now, living in a cottage brimming with magic, with gargoyles perched on my roof and a cursed bulldog-dad at my feet?

If Dad— Frank —hadn’t been stuck in this canine form, would he have visited her? Would he have been the grandfather Celeste deserved, guiding her and telling her stories of Stonewick?

Instead, he was here, bound by a curse and forced to watch me build a life he couldn’t fully participate in.

And Celeste… she had missed out on him, me, and all of this. She didn’t even know the magic that ran in our blood.

Shaking off a shiver, I pulled on thick socks, tugged on my boots, and grabbed a sweater.

I needed some fresh air.

Outside, the first lungful was an invigorating slap of cold.

The sun had vanished behind the horizon some time ago.

Snowflakes twirled in the faint moonlight, giving the world a gentle sparkle.

In the hush, I could almost pretend everything was normal—no curses, ancient grudges, just a quiet winter evening. But illusions like that never lasted long in Stonewick.

Part of me hoped I’d run into the little fox again.

I glanced back at my roof, expecting to see Karvey perched like a gargoyle hawk, but I couldn’t spot him at first. Then, movement near the chimney caught my eye. He was there, sitting with a watchful stillness that belied his stone form.

Gargoyles didn’t miss much. I raised a hand in a half-wave, feeling a little silly. He offered no response, just an unblinking stare. But it comforted me to know he was there, that if something was amiss, he’d take flight and defend me.

Shrugging deeper into my coat, I wandered toward the tree line, following a meandering path that cut through the snow.

The cottage lights glowed softly behind me. Sometimes, I liked to look at them from a distance, that warm beacon in the middle of nowhere.

A swirl of wind swept through, rustling the branches overhead.

Snow flurried off the evergreens, dusting my hair and shoulders.

I paused at a clearing where the moon filtered through bare branches. Everything glowed a pale blue, and my breath crystallized in the air.

Somehow, this moment felt suspended in time—a hush so absolute that it pressed gently on my ears. Letting out a slow breath, I whispered into the silence, “I miss you, Cel.”

It felt strange, speaking into emptiness, but it also felt right. Maybe, in some cosmic way, she could sense me in Aspen, thinking about her.

A snap of a twig shattered my reverie.

Instantly, my heart pounded.

My initial surge of hope was that it might be the fox I’d seen.

But the hairs on the back of my neck rose in warning. Something about that sound didn’t seem playful or curious. It was too abrupt, too deliberate.

I scanned the darkness, every nerve alight with adrenaline. Every cell was on fire with worry.

Snow fell steadily, muffling the rest of the forest’s sounds, but now that I was on alert, I thought I detected a scrape against the bark, a faint rustle.

My pulse throbbed in my ears, and I steadied my breathing, trying to calm the flutter of fear in my belly. I’d trained for situations like this… well, not exactly.

My training was more about incantations and potions, but Stonewick had taught me to be vigilant.

I think the training told me to go back to the cottage.

“Hello?” I called softly, though part of me cursed my boldness. But the hush that followed was eerie. No reply. The snow drifted on. “Frank?”

He wouldn’t wander outside without someone. Maybe Twobble took him for a walk.

I considered retreating to the cottage, but something in me resisted the urge to run. Maybe it was curiosity or the stubborn streak that had pushed me to stay in Stonewick when everything else said I should flee.

The wind picked up, snapping at the edges of my coat and pricking my eyes with cold. Taking a slow step forward, I pivoted toward the line of evergreens, where the forest thickened.

Another twig snapped.

This time, it was closer.

My heart galloped.

I swore I could feel eyes on me, hidden in the gloom of the pines.

Steeling myself, I forced calm into my voice.

“If you’re a friend, show yourself. If not, leave.”

Nothing.

A low groan drifted from somewhere to my left, maybe a tree bending under the weight of snow. Or maybe something else. My mind spun with possibilities—could Gideon have sent someone?

An owl hooted, startling me, and I let out a shaky laugh despite the tension.

But as I took another step, the snow gave way under my foot, and I pitched forward. Hands splayed, I caught myself on a fallen log, wincing as a jolt of pain lanced through my wrist. I stayed there a moment, half-kneeling in the snow, breath ragged.

Rising carefully, I brushed off the icy crystals sticking to my coat. My eyes darted around the trees. Everything looked the same.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something lurked out of sight.

Karvey’s presence on the cottage rooftop might help if I were in danger, but did he know how far I’d gone? Could he see me through the trees? Unlikely. And if a gargoyle needed to take flight and help me, a silent forest under the cover of night was an easy place to get lost.

Another rustle, a shift of snow.

I clenched my teeth, arms prickling with goosebumps.

“I’m not alone here,” I whispered, though whether I was trying to reassure or remind myself was unclear. “Dad?” I called softly, half-hoping Frank might appear from behind a tree, wearing that guilty expression he always had when I caught him in protective mode. But no such luck.

The wind died to near stillness, leaving bitter cold.

This was the moment in a horror story where the protagonist ran for it or was lulled into a false sense of security before being attacked.

In Stonewick, I had no illusions. Anything was possible.

I forced down the lump in my throat and kept moving, sidestepping the deeper drifts. Maybe if I circled back toward the cottage, I could do so without seeming to be fleeing. My pride be damned, I wanted safety right now.

But I heard another sharp snap before I could turn—a branch, definitely not just a twig. It sounded like it had been stepped on with force.

My stomach clenched.

I turned toward the noise, ignoring how my pulse hammered in my ears. If it was the fox, she’d have revealed herself. From what I’d read, Fox shifters were far more subtle than that. They didn’t just stomp around in the underbrush. My mind skittered to Gideon again, that looming figure of menace. Had one of his underlings tracked me here?

Or was it something else entirely? A rogue beast? A spirit?

I’d read about so many things lately. The list was endless.

Another snap. Closer still, maybe twenty feet away. The darkness swallowed the silhouette, but I could sense it.

My breath caught. A swirl of images raced through my head—my father’s curse, Celeste far away, the Academy teeming with unknown dangers, the fox who might’ve helped me or might vanish the moment I needed her. The snow glistened, inviting and cold, as if it held secrets I’d never unravel.

I forced my voice to come out steady. “Who’s there?”

Silence.

The hush stretched. Then I heard a quiet, almost tentative inhalation, like something or someone stifling a cough or a breath.

My skin crawled. This was no animal rummaging for food. It felt deliberate. Threatening.

I glanced back, but the cottage lights were little more than pinpricks through the trees. Karvey might as well have been a statue far away.

No help there.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed my palm to my thigh, feeling for any small charm or protective talisman I might’ve carried. My pockets, as usual, were stuffed with random bits—crumpled tissues, a half-broken candle stub, an amulet from Nova, and a small packet of salt. I closed my fingers around the salt. It might be useful if I needed to cast a rudimentary circle or barrier.

I’d read that somewhere.

My breaths came faster as I dared a few steps forward, scanning the night. The moonlight seemed to shift, shadows swaying with the winter breeze.

My foot connected with a tangle of dead vines, and I stumbled, catching myself just in time. The motion dislodged a lump of snow from a low-hanging branch, showering me in icy flakes.

Goosebumps rose on the back of my neck. Another sound, this time a soft scuff in the snow, told me whatever was out there had changed position.

It was moving.

Circling me?

A bead of sweat, chilling in the cold, traced down my temple.

I thought about calling for help. Maybe if I screamed, Karvey would come. Or maybe I’d attract something far worse. My fear wrestled with the desire to stand my ground.

I inched backward, deciding that retreat might be the smartest move. I took one slow step, then another, trying to keep the sound minimal. The tension coiled in my chest. If it was going to attack, this would be the time. The forest around me looked the same, but a prickling awareness told me I was being watched.

My boot caught on a root, hidden by snow, causing me to lurch sideways. A muffled cry escaped my lips as I nearly toppled, arms wheeling for balance. The root snapped under my weight, a harsh crack splitting the stillness. For a moment, fear flared, and adrenaline surged. Then I managed to steady myself, exhaling shakily.

A flurry of movement in my peripheral vision.

My heart slammed.

Instinctively, I scrabbled for the salt in my pocket. Without thinking, I flung a pinch in the direction of the movement. It pattered uselessly against the snow, glinting in the moonlight. It's not exactly the most dignified show of magical prowess. The shape I saw was gone as fast as it appeared. But I was sure something had darted behind a trunk.

Chest heaving, I realized I had to keep going. At least the cottage was in sight.

Was it close enough for me to sprint there, or would that be sheer lunacy? The swirling snow thickened, swirling around me in ghostly tendrils as if urging me to choose.

Run or fight.

A faint growl—low, resonant—came from just out of sight. My blood ran cold. That was no twig snapping, no ordinary forest creature rummaging about. That was something with intent. Something bigger, more dangerous.

Cold dread coalesced in my stomach when a crunch of footsteps moved toward me. This time, the growl came from behind me.

Slowly, I turned the amulet in my hand. The trees parted in a small clearing, the moonlight illuminating a patch of pristine snow. And in that space, a large, hulking outline edged forward. My heart slammed so hard in my chest that I thought I might faint.

I couldn’t quite see its face, but I caught the glimmer of eyes—reflecting moonlight with unnatural brightness—and the faint, ragged exhalation of breath in the cold.

Puffs like smoke.

A predator’s breath, stoking the air with steamy evil.

My legs trembled.

Biting down on my lip, I tried to summon every ounce of courage.

I forced myself to speak, though my voice shook. “I—I don’t want any trouble.”

The shape didn’t answer; I just took another step. Snow crunched heavily. My entire body thrummed with terror. I could practically feel the tension, like a live wire between us.

A swirl of wind gusted, blowing hair across my face, and in that split second, I made a choice.

I turned, hurtling back toward the cottage as fast as my legs would carry me.

The cold air tore at my lungs. My boots slipped, and my knees threatened to buckle on the uneven ground, but I pressed on, heart hammering. Behind me, I heard another snarl and a heavy set of footsteps plowing through the snow. It was chasing me.

Or taunting me.

Branches whipped against my arms and face as I crashed through the trees, ignoring the stinging cuts.

The cottage lights were visible now—still distant, but brighter than the faint moonlight. If I could just reach the yard, maybe Karvey would see me, maybe he’d fly down. My frantic breathing roared in my ears, but I caught the echo of my pursuer’s footsteps, too close for comfort.

A surge of desperation lent me speed. I stumbled out of the woods, snow flying in all directions. My heart soared at the sight of the cottage, a golden beacon in the darkness. I opened my mouth to call for help, but my voice stuck in my throat. Then I remembered how Stella had once mentioned that gargoyles could sense aggression. Perhaps Karvey already knew something was amiss.

Still, I had no certainty. The snarl behind me sharpened like whatever was chasing me realized we were leaving the cover of the trees. If it wanted to strike, now was its last chance.

I willed my legs to move faster, ignoring the burn in my calves. Each footstep crunched with panic-laced urgency.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. Through the swirling snow, I saw a massive shape silhouetted against the pines, eyes catching the light with a feral gleam.

My blood iced. It was close enough that I could see vapor curling from its maw, each breath exhaled in hungry puffs. Then it halted, as if uncertain or unwilling to leave the shelter of the woods.

Panting, I barreled forward, nearly tripping over the cottage’s little stone path. I half-expected to see the door open or Karvey swoop down, but everything remained eerily still.

With trembling hands, I fumbled for the doorknob, breath coming in shallow gasps. The pounding in my chest felt like it would break my ribs. Another quick look back revealed only the swirl of snow.

Had it gone? Or was it waiting, cloaked in the darkness just beyond my sight? My mind reeled, uncertain if I should run inside or try to see if the threat had retreated.

But my body decided for me.

I slammed against the cottage door, twisted the knob, and stumbled into the relative security of the living room. I kicked the door shut behind me, hands shaking so violently I nearly dropped the latch.

Darkness enveloped the cottage except for the soft flicker of the fireplace, which still glowed from a carefully banked fire.

I doubled over, chest heaving, trying to catch my breath. My mind spun with adrenaline for a moment, expecting something to smash through the windows or tear down the door.

Nothing happened. The hush of the winter night settled again. The only sound was my ragged breathing.

“Dad?” I croaked.

No answer.

I forced myself to breathe deeply to calm myself.

But my thoughts still raced, conjuring images of that hulking figure in the woods. Was it a beast, a shifter, an agent of Gideon? Or something else, some ancient creature awakened by the Academy’s stirring?

My heart refused to slow. Outside the door, snow continued to fall in silent drifts, muffling any further noise. I pressed my ear against the wood, hearing nothing but the quiet crackle of the fire behind me. Confusion warred with dread.

I thought of Celeste again—if she knew I lived like this, always glancing over my shoulder for monsters. Frank was forced to be a dog while his daughter faced such threats. A wave of anger welled in me, anger at the curse, at Gideon, at fate itself. Then, that anger dissolved into a raw fear. Because whatever was out there was no friend.

Slowly, I released the door handle, still shaking. My body felt drained, as though I’d run a marathon. I stumbled to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, adrenaline fading to a nauseous knot in my stomach. Outside, everything might look calm, but I knew better. Something had found me in the woods, and I doubted it was going away.

I stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace, trying not to imagine the creature’s eyes, glowing in the dark.

Part of me wanted to run out and demand answers.

Another part of me was content to cower indoors. But cowering wouldn’t fix anything.

A new wave of determination coursed through me: I must figure this out.

For now, though, I fought back tears of shock. I was cold, exhausted, and alone, my heart still galloping even though I was no longer in direct danger.

But in this trembling instant, I simply looked out the window and saw the look in my grandfather’s wolfish eyes.