Chapter Twenty-Six-Bella
Second Swoosh Call
The three of us—me, Donny, and Evie—linked hands over Evie’s office desk, the computer monitor glowed between us, and the faint fizz of magic sparked where our fingers touched.
The air shimmered like heat over asphalt, the scent of espresso and woodsmoke swirling around us as the connection formed.
“La Befana?” Evie’s voice rang out as the magic line solidified.
“It’s Evie Castor from Castor’s Corner.”
Pause.
“Is that you Crafter’s Coven? The picture is grainy. Amber, come fix this thing!” Magdelena, aka La Befana, shouted unnecessarily loudly.
“No, not Crafter’s Coven. CASTOR’S CORNER.”
My lips tightened.
“Okay, there you are! Yeah, yeah, Castor’s Cove—what’s up?”
“Corner, okay, well, remember how we called you about the bakery fires the other day?”
Donny and I both leaned in closer, trying to catch the muffled, papery rasp of Magdelena’s voice on the other end.
“Yep. So, I understand you have new firefighters. What’s the problem? Their hoses get stuck?” she demanded.
“Um, no. No problem!” Evie said quickly, her Mayor Voice sliding into place. “They’re great. Absolutely great. But there’s been some, uh, other things happening around town.”
I elbowed her.
“Menaces,” I stage-whispered. “Mystery menaces.”
Evie waved me off.
“We were wondering if you were aware of any heightened activity in other supernatural communities lately?”
“Well now that you mention it,” La Befana drawled, “I recall seeing an uptick in complaints about missing pets and—oh—what was it? Ah yes, some property damage. Are the Hobgoblins trying out new recipes again?”
Donny paled. “Um, I hope not. Last time they ‘tried new recipes,’ someone’s cat turned neon green and meowed ‘YMCA’ for a week.”
“I liked that cat,” I muttered.
“Look,” La Befana cut in, “Karen’s Kruegers is just going to have to solve this one alone. I can’t do everything!”
And just like that—click.
She hung up.
The three of us stared at each other, our magical link dissipating into harmless sparkles.
“Well,” I said, deadpan. “That went swimmingly. We’re on our own.”
How the hell are we supposed to solve this thing without help? I thought and groaned, slumping in my chair.
Before I could answer, a familiar low rumble curled around my ears.
“You’re not alone, sweet Witch.”
I turned to see Conrad filling the doorway like six and a half feet of trouble wrapped in dark denim and snake-smirk.
His green eyes glinted, and—yep—he was reading my mind again.
And for once, I was okay with it.
“You have us,” Jaxson added, strolling in with Wolf swagger.
Ryan followed, holding a box that smelled suspiciously like chocolate croissants. “And snacks.”
“Okay,” I said, straightening in my seat. “Trifecta and Shifter backup. Mystery menaces don’t stand a chance.”
“Damn straight!” Conrad added.
And for the first time in a long while, everything felt just right.