Chapter Thirty
The square had quieted, though not in the way that meant peace had actually settled in.
It was the kind of quiet that comes after people have shouted themselves out and finally realize the shouting didn’t solve anything.
A few witches lingered near the fountain with their arms folded, their expressions tight with the sort of stubborn pride that takes a while to cool.
Two orcs stood a little ways off, pretending very badly not to watch them.
Near the bakery, a pair of shifters leaned against the railing, shoulders still stiff but no longer squared like they were about to launch into round two.
Stonewick had cooled off a little.
The tourists wandering through town, however, looked absolutely delighted. One woman was snapping photos like she’d stumbled into the world’s most aggressive cosplay convention.
Nobody here had the heart to correct her.
She wouldn’t believe us anyway.
I could tell no one was healed yet. Not really.
Just cooled.
And right now, cooled was enough.
I leaned my shoulder against the tea shop’s old wooden and stone facade and drew in a slow breath. The bakery down the street had opened its windows, and the smell of fresh bread drifted through the square—cinnamon, butter, and something sugary that made the whole town feel softer around the edges.
For a moment, it almost felt normal.
Almost.
Keegan stood beside me, solid and unhurried, the way he always seemed to be when things around him started fraying. His eyes moved over the square, taking in one group, then another, the way someone does when they’re used to keeping track of a room.
“They’re settling,” I said.
“For the moment.”
He didn’t sound cynical, merely honest.
That was the thing about Keegan. He never pretended a problem was smaller than it was, but he also never acted like hope was a lost cause.
Across the square, an older witch pushed a steaming mug into the hands of a young orc who looked so startled he almost fumbled it.
He stared down at the cup like it might start smoking.
“Progress,” I said under my breath.
Keegan exhaled softly beside me, the sound just short of a laugh.
“Temporary progress.”
I nudged his arm with my elbow. “Let me enjoy the illusion for thirty seconds.”
He glanced down at me, his hazel eyes catching the warm late-afternoon light spilling across the square.
“You get thirty-five.”
I huffed a small laugh. “Generous.”
But he was already looking back out at the town again, attention shifting the way a wolf’s does when it’s responsible for keeping the forest from catching fire.
“There are still leaders out there,” he said after a moment. “Clan heads. Horde captains. People the others listen to.”
My stomach dipped a little.
“I know.”
“If we leave it like this,” he said quietly, “it won’t stay calm for long.”
He tipped his head toward the inn across the square. The windows glowed warm against the afternoon light, and the old wooden sign swayed on its chains with a soft creak every time the breeze shifted.
“We should bring them inside,” he said. “Somewhere quieter. Let people talk without half the town listening.”
“That sounds suspiciously like diplomacy.”
“I’m running out of better ideas.”
A short laugh slipped out of me.
He glanced back at the crowd, then at me again.
“Am I wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. You’re not.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like a smile was trying to show up but thought better of it.
“I do enjoy being right,” he said.
“Oh, don’t start.”
But just as he pushed away from the wall, something shifted in the air around me.
It wasn’t a sound.
Not exactly.
More like that strange feeling when someone across a crowded room says your name, and you turn, even though you never actually heard it.
My gaze drifted down the road leading out of town before I could stop it.
And there, at the far end where the road bent toward the trees, stood a figure.
Too far away to make out clearly.
Just a shape against the edge of the woods.
Still.
Watching.
A cold little knot tightened in my stomach.
Shadowick had taught me to recognize that kind of stillness.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It was patience.
But Keegan had already stepped away, moving toward a small cluster of shifters near the inn. A few of the older clan leaders stood there with arms crossed, clearly waiting for someone to start a conversation none of them wanted to be the first to begin.
The last thing I needed was for Keegan to feel the shift in my magic and abandon the fragile calm we’d just managed to scrape together.
So I said nothing.
For now.
He reached the group and started speaking with them in that quiet, steady way of his that made people listen even when they’d arrived fully prepared not to.
I slipped away from the tea shop wall and headed toward the side of the building.
My broom leaned where it had left itself earlier, propped against the stone like a perfectly innocent object that had never once caused me a single complication in my life.
Which, of course, was a lie.
As I reached for it, Stella appeared beside me.
She wasn’t loud or dramatic in her movements, rarely was.
She was just… there.
One moment the space beside me was empty, and the next Stella stood at my shoulder like she’d stepped out of the lamplight itself.
“Ah,” she said, watching Keegan across the square with quiet interest. “Look at him.”
“Look at who?”
“The wolf is trying to keep the peace.”
“That’s Keegan for you.”
“Yes,” she said, thoughtful now. “But tonight he’s also a shepherd with a flock that doesn’t particularly want to be herded.”
“They’re shifters, orcs, and witches, not farm animals.”
She snickered. “Same general disposition.”
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
She leaned a little closer, her voice dropping just enough that it didn’t carry.
“You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“The tea earlier.”
I frowned. “Did you put something in it?”
Her smile spread slowly, the kind that meant trouble, and she glanced around the village innocently.
“Oh, nothing alarming, dear..”
That pause made my eyebrows climb as I shot her a warning look.
She shrugged in return, and I couldn’t help but love my elderly vampire BFF a little more.
“A little of this and a little of that never hurt anybody.”
“Stella.”
“Just a little calming sage,” she said lightly. “A touch of moonflower.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Possibly,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “a whisper of vampire charm.”
I stared at her.
“You drugged the town.”
She touched her chest. “When would I ever?”
I chuckled, thinking back to my first encounter with her.
“All I did was encourage emotional balance.”
“You absolutely drugged the town.”
“Well,” she said with a shrug, “everyone’s still breathing, and no one’s currently on fire, so I feel quite vindicated.”
I opened my mouth to argue and didn’t bother.
“Thank you,” I admitted.
Her grin brightened.
“I knew you’d see reason.”
Across the square, Keegan had gathered several of the clan leaders and an enormous orc captain who looked like he could punch through a stone wall if diplomacy failed.
After a moment, they all nodded and headed toward the inn together.
Good.
That conversation needed walls and doors.
Behind us, Twobble had discovered a basket of abandoned pastries.
He held a powdered donut in each hand like it was sacred.
Skonk, meanwhile, was attempting to eat something that appeared to be three croissants stacked together.
“You can’t eat all of those!” Twobble snapped.
“I absolutely can.”
“You’re not even tasting them at that point!”
“I’m tasting them,” Skonk said through a mouthful of pastry. “I’m tasting victory. I’m tasting what it means to be alive.”
Despite everything, I smiled, but then the feeling came back.
That same prickling awareness along the back of my neck.
Someone watching.
I turned again toward the road.
The figure was gone, but the air still held that strange tension.
It felt as if someone had stepped out of the room but left the door open behind them.
I took a step forward and another, and without even a say in it, my broom yanked itself straight out of my hand and dove under me like an overexcited slingshot as I sailed into the air.
“Hey—!”
Before I could argue with the broom, I barely had time to grab the handle to steady myself.
“Excuse me!”
The town dropped away beneath my feet.
My coat flapped wildly as the broom sailed over the rooftops.
“This was not discussed!”
Below me, Twobble dropped his donut.
“MAEVE!”
Skonk blinked upward.
“Is this part of the plan?” Twobble was already running.
“STOP THE brOOM!” Skonk hollered.
I gripped the handle tighter as we glided toward the edge of town.
“Stop?” I shouted. “I would LOVE to stop!”
The broom ignored me completely.
Of course it did.
Below me, Twobble sprinted down the road as fast as his little goblin legs could carry him.
“MAEVE!”
“I’m aware!” I shouted back, feeling my palms get slippery.
“MAKE IT STOP!” he called.
“If you know how, this would be a wonderful time to share!”
“I’M THINKING!” Twobble was breathless with each word.
The broom drifted lower as we reached the edge of Stonewick with a smattering of trees lining the forest.
Behind me, Twobble stumbled to a stop in the road, panting.
“I regret everything,” he wheezed.
Skonk jogged up beside him, still chewing.
“Did we catch it?” Skonk asked, looking around.
Twobble pointed up at me.
The broom slowed and hovered.
Right where the shadowy figure had stood earlier.
I slid off and landed lightly on the road.
The woods were quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that listened back.
Behind me, Twobble bent over with his hands on his knees.
“I told you,” he gasped, “we should install brakes on that thing.”
My broom gave a smug little wiggle beside me as if it had delivered me exactly where I needed to be.
But what concerned me was I wasn’t sure which side it was on.
“Oh,” I muttered.
Twobble’s hands went to his hips. “Well, that’s reassuring. Oh? That’s all we get?”
The three of us stood at the edge of the road for a moment, looking into the trees where I’d thought I saw the figure.
The wind moved through the branches with a soft rustle overhead, but the woods themselves stayed silent.
Twobble finally straightened, puffing out a breath. He brushed powdered sugar off the front of his vest with great seriousness.
“Well,” he said, squinting into the trees. “That’s comforting.”
Skonk finished the last bite of his croissant and licked a crumb from his thumb.
“What exactly are we looking for again?”
“A mysterious person lurking in the woods,” Twobble snapped.
Skonk nodded thoughtfully. “Could’ve been a tall mushroom.”
Twobble slowly turned his head toward me.
“You see what I deal with?” he asked.
I stepped closer to the tree line. My broom floated along beside me, drifting like it was very pleased with itself.
“It wasn’t a mushroom,” I said.
Skonk scratched his chin. “How confident are we on that?”
“Extremely.”
“Well,” he said with a shrug, “always good to rule things out.”
The road ended where a narrow trail slipped between two old pines. I crouched and brushed my fingers across the dirt.
There was nothing obvious.
No prints. No broken twigs.
But there was something else. A faint ripple of magic lingered in the air, subtle but wrong for this part of Stonewick.
Twobble crept closer and leaned over my shoulder.
“Do you smell that?”
“Yes,” Skonk said immediately.
“What?” I asked.
“Fear,” Twobble whispered dramatically.
Skonk sniffed again.
“Nope. Cinnamon.”
Twobble groaned. “That’s the bakery, you absolute walnut.”
Skonk brightened. “Oh, good. I thought I’d developed magical senses.”
I took a few steps down the trail.
The trees thickened almost immediately. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in shifting patches that moved when the wind stirred the branches.
My birthmark gave a faint pulse just enough to make me pause.
“Someone was here,” I said quietly.
Twobble stiffened.
“Recently?”
“Very.”
So, it wasn’t in my head.
Skonk peered into the woods.
“Maybe they saw us coming and ran,” Skonk offered.
Twobble whipped toward him. “Why would anyone run from me?”
Skonk shrugged. “Have you met you?”
Twobble opened his mouth. “…touche.”
I walked a little farther along the trail as the road disappeared behind us, and the warm lights of Stonewick faded from view.
The feeling crept back up my spine.
That same prickling awareness.
Someone nearby.
I turned slowly.
“Hello?”
Nothing answered.
Just wind shifting the leaves.
Twobble lowered his voice.
“This,” he said nervously, “is exactly how goblin cautionary tales start.”
Skonk perked up.
“Do those stories involve snacks?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
I took another step, and the air shifted.
It wasn’t dark magic, and it wasn’t threatening either.
Just… there.
Like someone standing just out of sight.
Then a man’s voice carried through the trees.
“Maeve.”
Everything in me went still.
Twobble’s ears popped straight up.
Skonk blinked slowly.
I didn’t move.
The voice was familiar enough to make my heart stumble.
For a split second, my mind jumped to the obvious.
Gideon.
“Maeve.”
The voice came again from deeper in the woods.
But it wasn’t Gideon.
The tone was different. The weight behind it.
Older.
Twobble leaned toward me and whispered,
“Please tell me you recognize that voice.”
I swallowed.
“I do.”
“And?”
I kept staring into the trees.
“…that’s the problem, I don’t know where from.”