Chapter Twenty-Three
The air was crisp as if it were settling into fall, and I rather enjoyed it. Keegan sat on the low wall with one boot hooked over the edge, Celeste curled beside me on the bench, her shoulder pressed into my arm the way she used to when she was younger, pretending not to be nervous.
I watched the leaves for a while, letting the quiet settle into my bones. The Academy loomed behind us, solid and watchful, while the village beyond felt softer somehow.
Still, the weight of what was gathering pressed inward. Trouble was brewing far beyond our walls, and a call for help seemed to be circulating.
Celeste was the one who broke the silence.
“What does the Priestess want?” she asked.
It was a simple question.
And I realized, with a hollow twist in my chest, that I didn’t have an answer.
I stared out at the trees lining the path, at the way their branches swayed as if whispering among themselves.
“I don’t know,” I said finally.
Celeste turned to look at me, searching my face for deflection or reassurance.
“You don’t have any idea?” she asked.
“No,” I admitted. “I know what she does. I know how she moves people around like pieces on a board. But what she actually wants? I don’t know.”
Keegan glanced over at me, his expression thoughtful, not surprised.
“That might be the most dangerous part.”
Celeste frowned.
“You went after Gideon,” she said slowly. “Didn’t you?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I did.”
Her eyes widened. “You went to her? To the Priestess’s compound?”
“Yes, but she was preoccupied in Stonewick at the time.”
There was a beat of stunned silence, and then Celeste let out a sharp breath. “Mom.”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I know.”
Keegan shifted slightly, clearly enjoying what he was about to contribute far too much.
“It was on a broom.”
“What?” Celeste’s head snapped toward him. “A broom.”
“Yes,” he said solemnly. “A very temperamental broom.”
“You flew,” she said, looking back at me, voice climbing. “To rescue Gideon. From the Priestess. On a broom.”
“When you put it like that, it does sound a little unhinged,” I said.
Her mouth fell open, then she laughed, a sound somewhere between disbelief and awe.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not,” Keegan said. “She was… impressive.”
Celeste shook her head slowly. “I leave for college, and you turn into an action heroine.”
I smiled, though the memory still made my stomach tighten. “It wasn’t heroic. It was necessary. And believe me. I’m never impressive on a broom. They’re moody and never listen. It just takes me where it wants to go.”
“That’s worse,” she said. “That means you didn’t have a choice.”
I didn’t argue with that.
We sat there for a moment, the three of us, and I could feel the churn of magic beneath the surface of things.
“So,” Celeste said quietly, “if you don’t know what she wants… what does that mean for us?”
I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. “It means we stay aware. It means we don’t assume safety just because things feel calm. And it means…” I paused, the next part catching painfully in my throat. “It means it might not be safe for you to stay here long.”
Celeste didn’t pull away. She leaned in closer. “You don’t want me to go.”
“No, I’d love it if you stayed, but,” I said immediately. “I want you safe. Those aren’t always the same thing.”
Keegan rested his hands on his knees, gaze fixed on the path ahead.
“Magic’s churning,” he said. “You can feel it, right? Like the world’s holding its breath.”
“Yes,” I said. “I feel it.”
Celeste nodded slowly.
“Me too,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to say anything.”
I turned to her, startled. “You feel it?”
She shrugged, a little self-conscious. “It’s like… static under my skin as if something’s winding up.”
Keegan glanced at me, his expression soft but serious. “That’s what worries me.”
“And me,” I said.
The thought settled heavily between us. Celeste’s magic had woken up at the worst possible time, when ancient players were shifting and old grudges were stirring.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in normalcy and keep her there, but Stonewick had never been a place that honored wishes over reality.
“I don’t regret coming,” Celeste said suddenly. “I don’t want you to think that.”
I squeezed her hand. “I don’t.”
“I just…” She exhaled. “I didn’t realize how big all this was.”
“Neither did I,” I said quietly.
“Stonewick has a talent for understatement.” Keegan smiled faintly
Celeste laughed softly and leaned her head against my shoulder.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “I want to know. No secrets.”
“No secrets,” I agreed.
The leaves continued to scatter, and the future stretched uncertain and unresolved. I didn’t know what the Priestess wanted. I didn’t know how far her reach extended. But sitting there with my daughter and the man who’d become my anchor, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Whatever was coming, we’d face it for the right reasons.
Celeste shifted beside me, stretching her arms over her head as if she’d just remembered she had a body again.
“I think I’m going to explore,” she said. “Before something else explodes. Or hops.”
“That feels wise,” I replied.
She grinned and stood, then leaned down without hesitation and wrapped her arms around me.
I hugged her back fiercely, breathing her in, the very real, very grounding presence of my daughter securing me in a way nothing else ever quite could.
I kissed her temple, and her hair, then her cheek for good measure.
“Go,” I said softly. “But stay inside the Academy. And if anything feels weird—”
“I’ll come find you,” she finished, rolling her eyes affectionately. “I know.”
She hesitated just long enough to hug me again, tighter this time, before turning and wandering down the path toward the entrance, her steps light but purposeful.
I watched until she disappeared inside and exhaled.
The Academy steps were busy now, with a loose cluster of the vampire women standing near the entrance, shawls drawn closer as the breeze picked up, their voices low and conversational.
One of them laughed, the sound rich and unhurried, and another adjusted her gloves with deliberate care. They looked… settled and comfortable.
And the strangest part?
I wasn’t even a little worried about Celeste walking past them.
The realization hit me sideways, and I let out a quiet laugh before I could stop myself.
“Well,” I murmured. “That’s new.”
Keegan turned toward me, curiosity flickering across his face. “What is?”
I nodded toward the steps. “A gaggle of ancient vampires just moved into the Academy, and my daughter walked past them without a second thought. And I didn’t panic.”
He smiled slowly, that easy, knowing smile that always made my stomach do inconvenient things. “Guess that’s growth.”
“Or desensitization,” I said. “Hard to tell anymore.”
His gaze lingered on me, warm and intent in a way that made the world narrow just slightly. I felt it immediately, that awareness sliding into place, the kind that had nothing to do with danger or destiny and everything to do with two people standing a little too close for no reason at all.
I shifted my weight. “What?”
He chuckled, low and soft. “Nothing.”
“That’s never true,” I said.
He tilted his head, studying me openly now. “I was just wondering what you plan on doing with your ex.”
I barked out a laugh. “Oh, good. Light conversation.”
“You have a cursed amphibian loitering in your Academy,” he said mildly. “It’s a fair question.”
“I honestly have no idea,” I admitted. “I can’t turn him loose. I can’t erase his memory. And I can’t exactly keep him as a pet.”
“Pity,” Keegan said. “He’d look great in a little sweater.”
I snorted. “Don’t let Luna hear you say that. She’d knit one by morning.”
Keegan’s grin widened. “So, no plan, then.”
“Not even a little,” I said. “Which is apparently my brand now.”
He stepped closer, just enough that I could feel his presence like a warmth at my side.
“You always figure it out.”
“Do I?” I asked, glancing at him.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Usually while pretending you’re not.”
I felt my cheeks warm and cursed my traitorous body. “You’re biased.”
“Completely,” he agreed, and without another second passing between us, he gently kissed me. Electricity zipped through me, sharper than any spell could. It was quick but poignant.
Keegan leaned back against the low wall, arms crossed loosely. “You handled today well.”
I scoffed. “I nearly lost my mind three times before noon, but that kiss…helped.”
“Did it?” His voice lowered, and my stomach flipped unexpectedly. “I could do it again.”
“I believe it.”
I studied him, the lines of his face softened by the late afternoon light. “You know, you’re very good at making chaos sound flattering.”
“I have my talents,” he replied.
My gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before I caught myself. Too late. His eyes darkened just slightly, the shift subtle but unmistakable.
“Well,” I said, clearing my throat, “if you’re taking requests, I’d like a day where no one tries to overthrow reality.”
He laughed. “Ambitious.”
“I aim high.”
He pushed off the wall and stepped closer again, lowering his voice. “You okay? Really.”
The question cut through the flirtation like a blade wrapped in velvet.
I nodded slowly. “I am tired, a little overwhelmed, but… steady.”
His hand brushed mine, sending a ripple through me. “Good.”
I swallowed. “You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Showing up,” I said.
He met my gaze, something unguarded there. “I plan to keep at it.”
My heart kicked harder than necessary. “Dangerous habit.”
“Worth it,” he said.
We were quiet again, but it wasn’t the heavy kind this time. It was comfortable yet slightly charged, exactly what I needed.
Because somewhere inside the Academy, the toad ribbited loudly.
Keegan winced. “Romantic.”
I laughed, leaning my shoulder briefly into his. “Welcome to my life.”
He bumped me back, gentle and deliberate. “Wouldn’t trade it.”
I believed him, and standing there, watching the leaves scatter and the Academy glow with quiet purpose, I realized that as strange as my world had become, there were moments that made it feel not just survivable, but rich with wonder.
And that, somehow, felt like magic too.