3. Elowen
Elowen
L ast night's cleanup had barely touched the devastation in my aunt's store. In the harsh morning light, evidence of Rose's abduction was everywhere—books displaced from precise locations she'd maintained for years, scattered papers covered in her handwriting, that faint magical residue we hadn't fully cleared. I ran my fingers along the edge of an ancient grimoire, feeling the lingering echo of foreign magic and fought back a wave of nausea. Someone had put their hands on Rose's books—on Rose.
Sleep had eluded me despite my exhaustion. I'd spent hours poring over Rose's appointment book and correspondence, searching desperately for clues, finding only cryptic notes about "border issues" and "community tensions." Every dead end amplified my growing fear. Rose was the only family I had left. After my parents died, she'd been mother, mentor, and anchor. Her disappearance left a void that threatened to swallow me whole.
The bell above the door chimed precisely at eight.
"Morning." Rudy's deep voice carried across the store as he approached with two coffee cups, setting one on the counter. "Witch's brew. The barista at Midnight Brew suddenly remembered how to make it when I asked."
I accepted the coffee, recognizing the peace offering. "Twenty-dollar tip?"
"Something like that." He gestured toward the materials I'd spread across the desk. "Find anything?"
"Rose was tracking something far beyond local tensions." I indicated the papers—her notes on pack politics, blood magic sigils, and the half-finished letter warning of interference. "I've been trying to connect the dots since dawn. She knew something was coming."
Rudy studied the materials, pointing to symbols I hadn't recognized. "Something about these look familiar."
"What are they?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
Just then a movement flickered between the shelves.
A figure materialized—a woman with opalescent eyes and floating hair moving with fluid grace. I summoned defensive magic instinctively, heart racing.
"Your thoughts are particularly loud this morning," she commented, unfazed. "The romance novels have been quite invested in your internal debate about a certain wolf."
Recognition flashed—Rose's last letter had mentioned hiring some interesting new help. "You must be Daisy."
The strange woman nodded. "The books have been quite insistent about meeting you. Especially this one." She lifted a grimoire whose binding seemed to whisper. "It remembers your aunt's touch. The magic recognizes blood."
"What do you know about Rose?" I demanded, stepping forward. "Do you know where she is?"
Daisy's expression remained placid. "The mystery section is quite concerned about the deep wounds in the land."
My pulse quickened. "Tell me exactly what you know."
Daisy didn’t say anymore, only floated away.
I turned to Rudy, gripping his arm with urgent fingers. "Rose's hidden research. We need to find it now.”
"We’re just about to check the cave storage," he reminded me. “That’s where it will be.”
I pressed my palm against the mountain rock that formed the bookstore's rear wall, whispering the opening spell with Rose's name woven into the incantation. The stone shimmered, revealing a passage carved into the mountain itself.
The chamber beyond hummed with Rose's protective magic. I trailed my fingers along a shelf of grimoires, my throat tightening. Every book, every artifact carried her magical signature — reminders of her brilliance and the gaping hole her disappearance had left in my life.
"We'll find her, Elowen." Rudy's voice softened, sensing my struggle.
I couldn't respond, couldn't trust my voice not to break.
"Rose organized everything," I explained, falling into the familiar structure of my aunt's mind. "Historical precedents on the left, current research on the right. Theoretical magic in the upper shelves, practical applications below."
I located a leather-bound journal hidden behind a false panel—one of the secret spots Rose had made me memorize for emergencies. The journal contained her observations on supernatural community dynamics, blood magic influence, and theories about who might benefit from supernatural discord.
"Here," I said, my voice steadier as I pointed to a passage about pack territories. "Rose was tracking unusual movement patterns among the local pack, establishing presence in Shadow Valley."
"The alpha's extending his influence," Rudy confirmed grimly. "Shadow Valley has always been neutral territory."
“What could Rose have meant?”
A crash from the store interrupted my racing thoughts. We rushed back to find three college students browsing while Daisy rearranged the fallen books, unconcerned.
“What happened?” I asked.
The bell chimed.
"Elowen!" Charlotte's familiar voice brought a rush of comfort. "Are you okay? I heard the store was broken into?"
"I’m okay," I said, and her fierce hug steadied something inside me.
The bell chimed again.
The man who entered carried an air of calculated ease, every movement deliberate, as if he were used to being observed. His academic elegance—artfully tousled dark hair, expensive but understated clothing—belied an intensity that made my magic prickle uneasily. His gaze settled on me with polite curiosity, assessing but not lingering.
"Miss Evers." He nodded to Charlotte before turning to me. "And you must be Rose’s niece. I’m Dr. Oscar Katz. I was deeply concerned to hear about your aunt. Her work on protective magic integration was well-respected."
There was nothing inherently off about his words, nothing overtly wrong. But something about him felt... practiced. Too smooth. As if every word was weighed before it left his lips.
Rudy stepped forward, tension radiating from his frame. "Professor. Didn’t expect to see you here."
"Didn’t you?" Katz’s expression didn’t flicker, but his tone held something unreadable. "These days, Midnight Creek is more than just a quiet town, wouldn’t you say?"
Magic crackled faintly in the air—my own, unsteady, reacting to the subtle shifts in the conversation. Charlotte, oblivious to the underlying tension, glanced between us. "Dr. Katz has been working on community outreach between supernatural factions. He’s been helping students navigate the tensions."
"A noble cause," Rudy murmured, voice flat.
Katz smiled, a perfectly measured thing. "Knowledge fosters understanding. And understanding prevents war. Surely, that’s something we can all agree on."
The weight of his gaze landed on me again, and for the briefest moment, I had the strangest sensation that he wasn’t just looking at me—he was studying me.
"Was there something specific you needed?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
"Your Medieval herbals collection." He tapped a finger against the side of his coat as he spoke. "I’m gathering research on protective charms used in historical blood magic countermeasures. Given recent events, I thought it prudent."
Something inside me went still. He was choosing his words carefully. Not mentioning what those "recent events" were. Not saying Rose's name.
"We’re reorganizing," I said smoothly, gesturing to the lingering disarray. "Perhaps another time."
Daisy, still absorbed in rearranging books, hummed thoughtfully. "Your threads are rather tangled, Professor," she remarked. "So many knots forming. I do hope they unravel the right way."
Katz’s expression remained perfectly composed, but I caught the way his fingers flexed briefly, as if resisting the urge to clench. "Fate is an interesting thing, isn’t it?" His voice was light, almost amused. "I suppose we’ll see how the threads fall."
He nodded politely to Charlotte. "Miss Evers. Your recent paper on human perspectives in supernatural academia was quite insightful."
Charlotte flushed, clearly pleased. "Thank you, Dr. Katz."
His gaze flicked back to me once more, unreadable. "Another time, then."
The bell chimed as he left.
I exhaled slowly, only now realizing I’d been holding my breath. The store felt colder in his absence.
"Well!" Daisy clapped her hands. "The books are whispering already. Such an interesting weave we’ve stepped into."
I barely heard her. My mind was still turning over every word, every careful omission. Oscar Katz had given nothing away, but something told me he was far from uninvolved.
"Rudy." I turned to find him still radiating menace. "Planning to lurk there all day?"
"Depends." He moved closer, all predatory grace. "Planning to let more suspicious professors dig through Rose's secrets?"
"He's been nothing but kind," Charlotte protested. "He's trying to help with the student tensions—"
"Right." Rudy's sarcasm could cut glass. "Because supernatural academics never have hidden agendas. Especially ones who appear right when blood magic starts spreading."
Movement caught my eye—Daisy's book pile shifting, ancient volumes hurtling toward my head. I reached for magic instinctively, but my spell tangled with the books' protective wards.
Strong arms caught me as the magical backlash hit. I melted against Rudy's chest, his heat and woodsy scent overwhelming rational thought.
"Careful, little witch." His voice rumbled through me. "Old magic bites back."
"The threads!" Daisy's delighted cry broke the moment. "Oh, they're weaving such lovely patterns now. Fate does enjoy her little nudges."
"Books to sort. Store to fix. Aunt to find," I said, forcing myself back to priorities despite the magnetic pull between us.
As the day progressed, I couldn't shake the growing certainty that time was running out. The journal's detailed maps of ritual sites, the tracking of pack movements, the connections between missing witches—Rose had left breadcrumbs for me to follow.