Chapter 11 #2
Right now, he felt as though he was standing on the shore, watching Calli’s ship out on the distant waves, wishing he could do something, anything for her to feel safe enough to come back to him.
When he and Calli entered her bookstore, he saw a pretty woman with pale blonde hair using a wand to direct books back onto their shelves.
“Hey, Mira,” Calli called out.
The witch spun around, her face pale, but the color returned when she saw it was who it was.
“You scared me! Don’t worry, everything is back in place now. Thankfully, nothing was damaged.” Despite the store being empty, she leaned in to whisper. “The wards are down.”
“We know,” Calli sighed. “The non-magics are already filling the town.”
“Uh oh. I need to help Jack. You got this?”
“I’ve got this,” Calli said.
Mira took off running and almost collided with several tourists who’d just wandered inside.
“Welcome to Pages & Potions!” Calli greeted.
Malcolm smiled at one couple who started perusing the bookshelves.
Yes…, everything’s normal here. Normal bookstore. Normal, normal, normal… He realized his grin was maybe a little too wide and the non-magics might start to think he was crazy. He was going to make a hash of things if he stuck around. He needed to get answers.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered in Calli’s ear before he kissed her cheek. “I’ll go to Ivy Greenlee’s and I’ll meet you here. What time is good?”
“How about five?” Calli tried to act positive, but her eyes were full of worry as he left.
A few minutes later, Malcolm was knocking on the door to the inn.
The elderly witch from before answered, peering up at him through pale blue eyes. “Mr. Wellesley?” She blinked owlishly. “I still don’t have any available rooms.”
“It’s not about the rooms, Mrs. Greenlee. I’m sure you sensed that the wards are gone from the town.”
“Oh yes, I felt the rupture quite clearly. It’s a terrible thing,” the innkeeper murmured. “Terrible.”
“That’s why I’m here. You help strengthen the wards each year, am I right?”
“Yes, but that won’t help if the wards are completely gone.”
“Do you know anything about how the wards were first raised? Anything that could help us get them back up?”
The woman peered deeply at Malcolm for what felt like a minute before she opened her door wider to let him inside. “I’ll put the kettle on.”
She led him through the inn’s lower rooms, which were painted in warm shades of butter yellow or sage green. Enchanted portraits of witches and warlocks watched him as he followed Ivy into a sitting room just by the kitchen.
“Sit, dear. I’ll only be a moment.” The innkeeper urged him toward an armchair that had a white and green flower pattern.
Malcolm sank into it, taking in the room.
It reminded him of Calli’s home with the gently spinning spells that cleaned the air, directed sunlight toward plants and created a sense of tranquility that only quiet and growing things can bring.
This is what he missed by living in a bustling city—not the magic, but the peace, which was a magic all its own.
Dozens of spell books were tucked into Ivy’s bookshelf. Some were clearly old, others new. Intrigued, he got up and slid one off the shelf. He studied the gilded spines.
“Time to Spell: Runes and Rules for those with the Sight.” He flipped through the pages, feeling the heavy weight of spell residue dusting the book.
It had been used many times. Was Zelda not the only witch in Moonstone Falls with the sight ability?
He carefully slipped the book back onto the shelf.
Ivy returned and handed him a cup of tea. “Here we go, dear.”
“Mrs. Greenlee—” he began.
“Drink first,” she urged, then added “all of it,” when he took only a few sips.
He downed the rest, sensing where this was going.
“Now turn your cup down on the saucer.”
Malcolm did as he was told. Ivy took the cup from him and turned it over.
Her brows knit together as she studied the shapes in the dregs of his cup. A soft, sunny glow radiated from the woman’s skin as though sunlight was reflecting off her.
“I see a serpent.” She turned the cup. “A serpent biting a crescent moon.” Her face paled. “It was you. You—” she halted abruptly.
“I what?” Malcolm’s throat tightened as he clenched his hands into fists on his thighs.
“You broke the wards when you entered Moonstone Falls through a portal. It broke the already weakened spells.” She seemed to be talking more to himself than him.
“I broke the wards… just by coming here?”
“Yes.” Ivy stared down at his cup again. “The wards have been growing weaker and weaker, ever since we lost our last witch-locked couple. They kept the wards strong.”
“Witch-locked… you don’t mean Calli’s parents?”
“Only a witch-locked pair can open a portal inside the protective wards without causing disruption because their power being in tune with each other balances out the disruption of the portal. But you are not witch-locked, not yet…” She set the cup down and cleared her throat.
“The ritual to put the wards back in place requires a blood sacrifice.”
A blood sacrifice? He remembered his father telling him blood sacrifice spells were forbidden because they required someone to die. Did this mean he and Calli were destined to be witch-locked, but one of them had to die for the protection spell?
“No… no, no, no,” he muttered as he scrambled to his feet. “That can’t be right.”
“But Mr. Wellesley—” Ivy stood, but Malcolm waved her away.
“No. Don’t. I’m sorry. I… I have to leave. I—”
Malcolm ran out of the house feeling dizzy, his heart pounding.
He braced himself on the sign of the inn and stared at the center of the town.
A steady parade of cars were now coming in from the highway.
Cars full of people. And sooner or later, there would be dangerous people hiding among those tourists.
And if anyone got hurt, it would be his fault.
* * *
Serafina Batsford sat at a table in the chambers of the Salem Witch Council, a white crystal hanging from a golden chain in her hand.
She had a map of New York City laid out before her.
The crystal couldn’t find Malcolm Wellesley, swinging away from the map instead of pointing to it.
She laid out a state map next. The crystal jerked off the southern edge of the map.
“Ahh… not even in New York, are you?” she murmured. “Where did you run off to?” She went to the wall of folded maps and pulled out one of the entire Northeast. This time the crystal dug into Massachusetts.
“There?” she asked. Surely not. His father should have been able to find him if he was in Boston.
She retrieved a map of Massachusetts and spread it out before her.
“Show me Malcolm Wellesley,” she whispered. The crystal now glowed bright and began to circle in the air, its tip pointing downward. “Find the wayward warlock.”
The crystal jerked so violently it snapped off its gold chain, its tip embedding into a piece of the map north of Boston. Serafina moved the crystal out of the way to examine the location.
Moonstone Falls.
She knew the place. It was a tiny town that sat upon a vast bedrock of magic, one of the many sanctuary towns scattered across the country, sheltering magical creatures as well as those who did not care for the modern world.
These towns had protective wards to keep those with darkness in their hearts from finding their way to those towns.
“No wonder we couldn’t find you,” Serafina murmured.
But she had found him. Which meant… the wards were gone.
Moonstone Falls no longer had its protection.
She abandoned the maps and went to her raven familiar perched on the edge of the open windowsill of her study.
“Poe, summon the Council, and bring Reginald Wellesley to me at once.”
The raven let out a shrill cry and took to the air, its ebony wings flashing purple in the sunlight as it winged its way to the West.
* * *
Cain Henson sat on a bar stool in a small town in northern Virginia, sipping a cold beer, ruminating on the unexpected path his life had taken. He should have been an accountant, had been one, years ago. Then he’d found a vampire in bed with his wife. Now, he was a hunter.
He hunted things in the dark. Witches, vampires, beasts that howled, beasts with tentacles, beasts that defied the natural order.
He hunted them all. As he swallowed the last foamy bit of his beer and set the bottle down, his gaze made its way to the bartender behind the counter.
She was a pretty woman in her late forties with a bright blue streak dyed in hair.
She was washing glasses while humming softly.
It had taken years for Cain to develop an extra sense for magic, but now he could feel the spells she was working in the air, even though he couldn’t see them.
It made his skin crawl to think that this pretty woman was a hellspawn creature full of evil.
“Anything else, handsome?” the woman asked as she collected his beer bottle.
He cracked a smile. “Just a date with you.”
“Sorry, hon. I don’t date customers.” She gave him a friendly wink and turned away to see to another customer.
Cain checked his watch. He had a few hours to waste before he could grab her without being seen.
Just then, an icy wave passed through him. Flashes of the memory shot across his mind.
A town… There was a town north of here, close to Boston. One he’d visited as a child. A town that felt magical. He remembered a girl running through a maze of hay bales ahead of him, laughing as he chased her. She’d grabbed a small broom and hopped on, riding ahead of him, then up out of sight…
A witch… He’d met a witch there.
How had he ever forgotten that place? His childhood memories, though tainted with an irrepressible sunny joy that came with the ignorance of youth, now provided him with a wealth of information about a town full of magic. Full of evil.
Cain stared at the witch, who was still behind the bar. He could come back for her any day. Right now, an entire town of creatures awaited him. With a slow grin, he dropped a few dollars on the counter, grabbed his leather coat and left the bar.
The name. The name of the town almost glowed in his mind.
Moonstone Falls…