16. Chapter 16
Z ephyr wanted to be the type of person who could leave a potentially harmful mystery alone, but she wasn’t.
She knew she would not last long in a horror movie.
If there was a spooky noise behind a door, she opened that damn door and suffered the consequences.
She would satisfy her curiosity—even if the way was painful.
She didn’t even make it until lunch. When it was time for her first fifteen-minute break, Zephyr cut through the park, flying low until she found a secluded bench. She sat, the bench icy underneath her butt, and placed her mailbag in her lap.
The leather flap flew open with its own magic, and she placed her hand inside, silently willing for Blackened Salt Apothecary’s letter to appear in her hand.
She pulled her hand out. Empty.
Empty?
It was a terrible idea, but Zephyr turned the open bag upside down and shook it. “Give. Me. My. Letter!” She turned the bag right side up and peered inside until the flap of the bag snapped shut, nearly clipping her nose with the metal latch.
“Excuse me?” Zephyr stood, grabbed her broom, and took off for the only witch who could help her.
SHE KNEW WHEN NEIL took his lunch break—the same time every day, down to the minute. It was vital information at the moment. She needed a tinkerer, and she didn’t want Neil to witness how desperate she was to read the letter.
Hattie manned the front of Finnegan’s Magical Repairs alone, sitting back in the chair with her untied boots resting on the countertop.
Zephyr plopped her mailbag next to Hattie’s boots. “I need a repair. It’s an emergency.”
Sliding her boots off the counter, Hattie leaned forward curiously. “Emergency? That’s a rare thing in Pumpkin Hollow.”
“It’s my mailbag. It’s hiding letters from me.” She shook the bag for emphasis. “I need it fixed. Without it, the Hollow won’t get their mail. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night, right?”
“Is that the official motto?”
“Maybe?”
Hattie pulled the mailbag across the counter. “I’ll wave the emergency fee, since it’s for the Post.” She walked around the counter and entered the workshop.
Zephyr checked the time on her phone. “How long will this take?”
Hattie glared back at her before dumping the mailbag on her crowded workbench. Neil’s tidiness had not been inherited from his grandmother. “Gods above and below, I haven’t even looked at it.”
“Sorry. Just in a hurry.”
“So I’ve heard,” Hattie huffed. She sat on a tall, padded stool and picked up a pair of glasses from the bench and put them on.
She fussed with the bag’s stitching, fiddled with the latch, and said to the bag, “Don’t be so stubborn.
You deliver mail. You’re not a babysitter.
I know she’s foolish, but that’s not our burden. ”
Zephyr frowned. “Umm? What are you two talking about?”
Hattie didn’t answer. She stood, motioning for Zephyr to step back.
With a flick, Hattie turned the mailbag over and dozens of black envelopes exploded out of it.
Zephyr stared down at the river of paper at her feet.
Jaxon wasn’t lying—for once. Her racing sponsors really, really wanted to reach her. He was actually underselling it.
Hattie put her hands on her hips, lips pursed. For a moment, Zephyr wished Hattie would tell her to burn the envelopes and keep her secluded, small life intact. Hattie only said, “I’ll send the bill to the Post.”
ZEPHYR FLED THE WORKSHOP only minutes before Neil’s break ended.
It wasn’t her bravest moment, but she wanted to be completely alone.
“They want a photoshoot,” she whispered, holding the black envelope so tightly it began to crinkle.
“Or they want me to sign some posters. Maybe put my face on the packaging of one of their skin creams.”
She imagined it was anything but what she truly hoped they would want from her. A return. A comeback, though she wasn’t remotely ready. But Zephyr needed—oh, she desperately needed —to know that someone, anyone, thought she could.
She tore open the envelope, hands shaking as she pulled out the gilded stationary within. She skimmed the pleasantries at the beginning, before the middle paragraph stood out to her in bold ink.
… again, we cannot say how pleased we were to see the success of your surgeries.
We at Blackened Salt hope your return home was restful, and that you are ready to pick up where we left off.
Our racing team has missed your unique confidence, and the viewers want to see our Icarus wear her wings again.
Respond soon. We need to get you fitted with a new broomstick before the next season begins…
It was what she had secretly dreamed about, when her nightmares faded away. She hugged the letter against her chest, but when she closed her eyes, only one word appeared in her mind.
Icarus .
That would be the selling point, of course. The drama and terror of her fall would sell tickets. It would sell posters and shirts and coffee mugs. The sports betting scene would explode . How many turns would Zephyr McAllister last until she fell again?
Will she end up in the hospital again, or the morgue? Place your bets now!
Today was Friday. That left only today and tomorrow for flying lessons with Levina before the race on Sunday.
Zephyr didn’t have time to think about her future racing career.
But if her sponsor had sent Jaxon to personally deliver the letter, their patience had officially run out. She needed to make a choice soon.
But she’d stay for Levina’s race. She owed the girl that much. And Zephyr really wanted to go. It sank her stomach to think that the last day of the Pumpkin Festival might be her last day in Pumpkin Hollow.