Chapter Fourteen
We were back at my house after hiding the trunk in the antique store’s cellar, putting away the mythical weapons, wiping the black ash off the concrete floor, and locking up the shop. Dawn was still hours away, but exhaustion pressed down on my bones like lead.
Owen sat on the sofa, shoulders hunched, both hands wrapped around a mug of steaming coffee. His fingers weren’t steady. Neither were mine. The heat didn’t seem to help much—not with the aftershock still riding his nerves, his body unwinding from the night in small, involuntary tremors.
I hovered near the fireplace, arms wrapped around myself, pacing a groove into the rug.
I was still processing the fight in the shop—the shadow-things, the way the grimoire had responded, the man in the doorway who felt like hunger with a voice. I kept circling the same details, like if I replayed them enough times I’d find the moment where everything had gone wrong.
I didn’t tell Owen what it had felt like when his attention touched me.
I wasn’t ready to say that part out loud.
Finally, he let out a slow breath. “You’re going to wear a hole in that rug.”
I halted, looked at him. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“That demon—Garrat—he tried to bind you to him again,” he said after a long moment.
“Yes.” My mouth went dry at the thought. “He wanted me to believe his lies. That I’m all alone. And that punch of loneliness was so deep, so raw… I wanted to believe him.”
Owen placed his mug on the table and then gave me his full attention, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
“Piper,” he said, my name quiet in his voice. “You aren’t alone in this. You have me.”
My heart squeezed.
“I know,” I whispered. “And I’m glad.”
“I won’t let you face this by yourself.”
He always knew the right things to say, to make me feel safe.
We looked at each other in the silence, but I didn’t want to sit with those feelings too long. Otherwise, I would start to want something more with the man standing with me. And I wasn’t quite ready.
“He looked at the grimoire like it belonged to him. Like he could pull on it,” I said, changing the subject.
Owen’s eyes sharpened as he picked up his mug again. “But the book answered you.”
Guilt punched through my ribs. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” he said, softer. “But intent doesn’t matter if the veil heard it.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you why.”
Tani appeared out of thin air beside the hearth in all her full-size glory.
“Ow—!” Owen jerked, sloshing coffee over his hand.
My hand flew to my chest. “Tani! Give a girl some warning.”
The fairy queen winced. “Sorry. You want the explanation or not?”
“Yes,” I said flatly.
“Please,” Owen added, setting the mug aside.
Tani hesitated, glancing between us. Whatever humor she usually carried was gone. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. Heavier.
“This is complicated.”
“Try,” I said tightly. I’d never heard Tani sound like this—no slang, no sass. Just a queen speaking truth that weighed on her.
“There’s a veil between realms,” Tani began. “Between yours and mine. Between all of them. Human world. Faery. Wonderland.” She drew in a breath. “That veil has been thinning.”
“How?” Owen asked, instantly alert.
“I don’t know,” Tani admitted. “A few months ago, I felt it shift. Tear. Every spell I cast to stabilize it only made things worse.”
“Worse how?” I asked.
“Like something pushing from the other side,” Tani said. “Something that feeds on magic. Every attempt to stop it gave it more strength.”
I leaned forward. “What took Oberon?”
Tani’s jaw clenched. “Whatever this thing is—it tore a chunk out of Faery and dragged him into another realm.”
“Why him?” Owen asked.
“Because he guards the Fae relics,” she said bluntly. “Or because whoever’s behind this thinks he does.”
My thoughts immediately flew to the crates in Charmed & Vintage. To Alice hiding treasures away like landmines no one else knew how to defuse.
“If you knew any of this before,” I said slowly, “why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know it was spreading,” Tani said. “I thought it was contained to Faery. Until Wonderland started bleeding.”
“That part is true,” the Red Queen said from the staircase.
We turned as she descended, skirts gathered carefully in her hands. “Paths have been opening where none existed before. Places touching that never should.”
“I tried sealing the boundaries,” Tani said. “It worked—for a time. But it’s temporary. The barrier’s thinning again.”
“What about Oberon?” I asked. “You said you found him.”
Tani nodded. “He’s alive. Trapped. I know exactly where he is. I can’t reach him.”
“I thought the hickory tree was the only crossing,” I said.
“It’s the strongest,” Tani replied. “But it’s not the only one. Standing stones. Old circles. Places where ley lines intersect.”
My chest tightened. How many doors were there? How many chances for that demon to slip through?
“Did Alice know?” I asked quietly.
Tani hesitated.
Willow padded over and rolled onto her back at my feet, meowing softly.
Tani glanced down. “She did. She was trying to fix it.”
I swallowed.
“So this… thing hit Faery,” I said slowly. “And Wonderland. Which means it’s only a matter of time before it pushes here.”
“Holy jabberwocky,” the Red Queen muttered.
“Closing the gate won’t be enough,” Tani said. “Not anymore.”
“And we don’t even know what it is,” Owen added.
Silence followed.
“Then here’s the plan,” I said, straightening. “We stop broadcasting. We lock the grimoire down. We translate it. And we seal the tree properly—before the tear widens.”
Owen’s gaze held mine. “We?”
I didn’t flinch. “We.”
Tani’s eyes narrowed—approval, sharp as a blade. “Good.”
“And while we do that,” I added, looking at Tani and the Red Queen, “you two keep an eye on the town. If paths open—if anything feels wrong—I want to know before it’s in my driveway.”
Tani yawned. “That’s my cue.”
The Red Queen nodded once and retreated upstairs.
Willow curled into the chair and was asleep instantly.
That left Owen and me alone.
I stepped closer to him, the weight of the night pressing in. Say something normal, I told myself. Something that belongs to the world before monsters and magic and doors that shouldn’t exist.
“You’ll stay?”
“I’ll stay,” he said softly. “As long as you need me.”
The knot in my chest loosened a fraction. Enough to breathe.
“Owen… there’s something I should confess.”
His eyes drifted to my mouth. “Yes?”
The words that came out weren’t the ones clawing at my insides. But they were safer. Familiar.
“I tried to beat you for valedictorian.”
A grin broke across his face. “And failed.”
“You were obscenely smart,” I said. “It was deeply unfair.”
“And you were relentless,” he said. “I still have nightmares about you correcting the teacher.”
The sound of his laughter—soft, real—felt like a lifeline. For a moment, I could pretend nothing had changed. That we were two people standing in a quiet house, trading old jokes, and not whatever the world had decided to turn us into.
I smiled—then sobered. “Why didn’t you leave Hickory Hollow?”
“I stayed for my father,” he said. Then, after a beat, “And because someone had to watch the Crossroads. Alice couldn’t do it alone forever. I knew that even before I understood everything it meant. And…” He paused, his gaze meeting me. “Because I hoped you’d come back.”
“Why?” The word came out quieter than I meant it to.
He didn’t dodge it this time. “Because you were the one thing about this town that never felt small.”
My chest tightened. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t think I was allowed to want you,” he admitted. “You were always going somewhere. I was staying.”
I studied him, something clicking into place. “You could’ve left,” I said softly. “Like your brother did.”
His jaw tightened—not angry. “He wanted a different life.”
“And you?” I asked.
Owen met my gaze. “I wanted this one.”
“That’s backwards,” I said faintly.
He huffed a breath. “I know.”
I studied him, seeing him differently now—not as the boy who stayed, but the man who chose to. “Did Alice know?”
His expression softened. “She knew everything. She always did.”
That familiar ache stirred in my chest. “She watched over me, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “In her own way.”
Silence settled between us.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said quietly.
Owen set aside his mug and rose. When he reached me, he took my hands, careful of the bandages. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”
Not forever. Not promises. Just together.
Since I’d come back to Hickory Hollow, that felt like enough.