Chapter Thirty-Two
I opened the door before Stella could knock again, and she nearly toppled forward into the shop, catching herself on the doorframe with a dramatic sigh that felt older than time and yet somehow perfectly me.
“I swear,” she said, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeves, “if one more vampire asks for a third pot of my midnight rose blend, I’m installing a ration system. Or a bouncer. Or both. I know orcs are out there and Lady Limora had good intentions, but these gals are high maintenance.”
I smiled despite myself. “Rough night?”
She looked up at me, eyes bright but tired, the kind of tired that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with being the emotional support tea witch for an entire undead population.
“They’re drinking me out of house and home,” she said. “I haven’t seen this kind of demand since the Great Moon Surge of ’72. And let me tell you, that ended with three broken kettles and one very emotional coven leader who cried into her scone.”
Twobble perked up. “Wait, there were scones involved?”
“Always,” Stella said solemnly and waved a hand, “But don’t misunderstand me. I’m not complaining about booming business. I just thought you should know that if the vampires keep this up, Stonewick is going to smell permanently like bergamot and existential dread.”
“That’s… not the worst scent we’ve had,” I said.
She snorted. “True.”
Her gaze flicked past me, landing squarely on the beaded curtain that concealed Nova’s back room.
“So,” she drawled, “how was it?”
Celeste made a small choking sound behind me. “It worked.”
I stepped aside to let Stella in. “You missed it by about three minutes.”
Stella sighed wistfully. “Story of my eternal life.”
She stepped fully into the shop, took in the candles, the crystals, the faint magical residue still clinging to the air, and then her eyes narrowed.
“Wait.” She sniffed.
“Oh,” she said slowly. “Oh no.”
Behind the beads, there was a sudden crash, followed by a very human groan.
“What…what the hell?” came Alex’s voice, rough and disoriented. “Why does my head feel like it’s been stuffed with cotton and regret?”
Twobble clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh and failed miserably.
Stella’s lips curved into something sharp and delighted. “Please tell me that’s who I think it is.”
Keegan leaned closer to me, murmuring, “I should warn you. She’s going to enjoy this.”
“I know,” I said, already bracing myself.
The beads rattled as Alex stumbled forward, pushing them aside with a scowl. He blinked at the shop, at the group of people staring back at him, and then directly at Stella.
He frowned. “Why are you here?”
Stella gasped, one hand flying to her chest. “Alexander.”
He winced. “I told you not to call me that.”
“And I told you,” she replied sweetly, stepping closer, “that you could take that attitude and store it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine. Preferably very far away from Stonewick.”
Twobble lost it completely.
Alex blinked again. “Why am I in Stonewick? I hate this place.”
Celeste’s jaw dropped as Nova emerged quietly from behind the beads.
Her expression was serene, and she caught my eye and gave the smallest nod.
It was done.
“I don’t remember driving here,” Alex continued, rubbing his temples. “Last thing I recall, I was getting coffee. There was a woman, red scarf, I think, and then nothing.”
Stella leaned in, peering at him intently. “Tragic. Truly. The mind is such a fragile thing.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Because,” Stella said, straightening, “I’ve waited decades for the universe to finally give you exactly what you deserve, and while I don’t know what happened, I can tell by the look on your face that it was deeply inconvenient.”
Alex scowled. “I don’t like this town.”
“Oh, darling,” Stella said, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy, “the feeling has always been mutual.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
Alex turned to me, bewildered. “Maeve? What’s going on?”
I studied him for a moment. The man who’d once filled my life with noise and promises and quiet betrayals. The man who had no memory of magic, of curses, of consequences or hopping on four legs.
“You came to pick up Celeste and take her back to college,” I said carefully. “That’s all you need to know.”
Stella snorted. “And he hates every second of it.”
Alex opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, wincing again. “Why do I feel… off?”
“Jet lag,” Twobble supplied cheerfully. “From reality.”
Stella turned to me then, her expression softening just a fraction. “You all right, love?”
I nodded, though my chest felt tight. “Yeah. I think so.”
She studied me for a long moment, ageless eyes seeing far more than I’d said, then smiled gently. “Good. Because if you weren’t, I’d hex him myself.”
“Noted,” I said.
Behind me, Celeste shifted closer, her hand brushing mine. I squeezed her fingers, grounding myself in the feel of her warmth, her presence.
Alex glanced between us, clearly sensing something he couldn’t name.
“We should probably… go,” he said slowly.
Stella beamed. “You’re learning.”
As Nova gently but firmly began steering him toward the door, Alex muttered about headaches, strange dreams, and the worst cup of coffee of his life. Stella leaned in close to me.
“Well,” she murmured, “that was cathartic.”
I exhaled. “You have no idea.”
She straightened, smoothing her coat. “Now. The vampires are going to drink me dry, your ex has finally been knocked down a peg by the universe itself, and your daughter—” she glanced toward Celeste, who was still staring after her father in stunned disbelief “—has officially come into her magic.”
My throat tightened.
Stella followed my gaze and softened. “Ah,” she said quietly. “That look.”
I swallowed. “Yeah.”
She gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “It’s time, isn’t it?”
I nodded, the truth settling heavy but clear. “It is.”
Celeste turned back to me just then. Her eyes were bright and uncertain but brave.
“Mom?”
I pulled her into a hug without hesitation, breathing her in, memorizing the feel of her.
“We’ll get you back to campus,” I said softly. “Safe and sound.”
She nodded against my shoulder. “Okay.”
As Stella watched, smiling in that knowing way of hers, I felt the weight of the moment settle in.
Stonewick would go on, and magic would churn.
Threats would loom, but my daughter needed her life back and space to grow into her magic rather than being thrown into it as I had been.
And I was ready to let her go, just far enough to keep her safe, and just close enough to always feel her pull.
“I still don’t understand,” he said for the third time, keys dangling from his fingers. “Why would I drive to Stonewick? And why didn’t I just send a car to get Celeste?”
Alex looked annoyed, confused, and mildly offended by the entire concept of being where he was, but he wandered off to get the car where Celeste had last parked it.
Celeste leaned against the door, arms folded, with a calm expression.
“Thank you for telling me the truth, Mom.”
“You always deserve the truth, even if I don’t always like what it is.” I kissed her forehead as we watched her father pull his sports car in front of Nova’s shop.
Her father stood from his seat, the car running, and looked at Celeste.
“And why did you say I didn’t send a car?”
“Because you didn’t,” she said evenly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” She was so my daughter.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Alex glanced between us, clearly sensing that something was off but lacking the memory, or perhaps the capacity, to grasp what.
“This town gives me a headache,” he muttered. “Always has.”
“Then it’s good you’re leaving,” I said gently.
He frowned at me. “You’re not coming?”
I shook my head. “Why would I?”
How much of Alex’s memory did Nova alter?
He opened his mouth, probably to argue, then closed it again, rubbing his temples.
“This feels… wrong,” he said slowly. “Like I missed something important.”
Celeste reached out and touched his arm.
“You didn’t,” she said, her voice softening just a fraction. “You really didn’t.”
“Then why is your mother staying here?”
Celeste hid a snicker and shook her head. “You cheated on her.”
That seemed to settle him, or at least distract him. He sighed, unlocked the car, and tossed his jacket into the backseat.
But he didn’t argue. Some things, spells just can’t undo.
Celeste turned to me, and the mask she’d been wearing slipped just enough for me to see the girl she’d always been. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me tightly.
“I’m just leaving my backpack,” she murmured into my shoulder. “I have a feeling I’ll be back.”
My throat tightened, and I didn’t argue.
I didn’t tell her to be careful or to call me every night or to avoid strange magical surges she didn’t yet know how to name.
I just held her and breathed her in, memorizing the weight of her, the warmth of her, the way she fit against me like she always had.
“I’ll be here,” I said simply.
She pulled back, smiling. “I know.”
Alex cleared his throat loudly, already half inside the car. “Are we done?”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Yes, Dad. We’re done.”
She climbed into the passenger seat, glanced back at me one last time, and lifted her hand in a small wave that felt heavier than any dramatic farewell ever could.
The car pulled away, tires crunching softly against the cement as it headed down the road and out of Stonewick.
I stood there long after it disappeared from view.
Keegan stepped beside me, close enough that I could feel his warmth without him touching me. He didn’t speak right away. He never rushed moments like this.
“You’re incredible,” he said finally.
I let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t feel incredible.”
“That’s usually how it goes,” he replied, smiling gently. “You did the hardest thing.”
I turned to look at him. “Letting her go?”
“Trusting her to come back,” he said.
Something in my chest eased at that, but before I could respond, the air shifted.
Keegan straightened instantly, his attention snapping toward the treeline. I felt it too, the tingling along my skin, the warning hum of magic stirring where it hadn’t a moment before.
But then she stepped out from between the trees without sound.
The Silver Wolf.
Keegan’s mother moved with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged to both the forest and the space between moments. Her silver fur caught the light as she shifted, her form resolving into something more human, though her eyes remained unmistakably lupine.
“Mother,” Keegan said, his voice respectful but tense.
She inclined her head to him, then turned her gaze to me. “Maeve.”
My chest tightened. “What is it?”
She didn’t waste time. “There’s been movement.”
Keegan’s jaw clenched. “From who?”
“The clans,” she said. “Multiple territories. There are scouts shifting positions and patrols doubling back. Old paths being tested.”
My heart sank. “That doesn’t make sense. Ending the Hunger Path was supposed to calm the shifters.”
“It should have,” she agreed. “Which is why this concerns me.”
Keegan ran a hand through his hair. “Could it be aftershocks or residual tension?”
The Silver Wolf shook her head slowly. “No. This feels… intentional.”
A chill slid down my spine. “Intentional how?”
She hesitated, and that hesitation scared me more than anything else. “As if they’re responding to a signal or waiting for one.”
The weight of the day pressed down on me all at once. The circle. The orcs. The Priestess. Celeste leaving. And now this.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “So ending the Hunger Path didn’t end the unrest.”
“No,” the Silver Wolf said softly. “It changed it.”
“But at least it stopped Keegan’s curse,” I muttered, grateful for that more than most things.
Keegan glanced at me, worry flickering across his face. “Maeve…”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stand tall.
“It’s fine,” I said, even as my pulse raced. “Okay, it’s not fine, but it’s… manageable.”
The Silver Wolf studied me for a long moment, her gaze assessing.
“You carry more than you realize,” she said.
That didn’t help.
I watched the road where Celeste had disappeared, and my heart ached, yet I remained resolute. I’d wanted to believe that ending the Hunger Path would bring peace, that the world would settle into something quieter.
But Stonewick had never been quiet.
And neither, it seemed, had the forces watching it.
Whatever came next, it was already moving.