by R M Connor
“You wouldn’t dare.” She glared at me.
I might, Auntie. I just might. But instead of provoking her further, I walked around her—though I probably could’ve walked through her—and opened the back door. Sticking my head out, I looked back and forth on the porch. “Who were you talking to?”
“No one.” She crossed her arms.
There were little paw prints from the steps to the railing and then back down the steps. Bean had been here. I started to wonder if he was avoiding us for some reason. I shut the door and mimicked her posture.
The microwave beeped. Maisie walked back into the kitchen. A moment later, she yelled, “Cocoa’s ready.”
I walked past Agatha but could feel her hovering on my heels. I went to my bag and took out the key.
“We got a present today.” I turned toward her and held the key in the air.
Agatha’s lips parted, her eyes widened. She reached for the key. Her body flickered and she dropped her hand back to her side. “Go get the grimoire.”
I laid the key on the counter then ran up the steps to my dresser. Before heading back down, I pulled my socks off. The last thing I needed was to fall down the steps and break something. I laid the book on the island, still wrapped in the brown paper. Agatha swiped her hand in the air above the book. The corner of the paper peeled, ripping down the middle to expose a keyhole.
“Who gave this to you?” Agatha asked, motioning to the key. It rose into the air, floating toward the grimoire.
“We don’t know,” I answered. I had thought maybe Agatha had left it, but I doubt she was the type to wrap a gift with a neat bow on top. Now that I thought about it, she had no reason to leave it at the café when she lived in my house. Maybe the shadow had . . .
“It was signed ‘to my girls,’” Maisie added as she placed a steaming cup of chocolate in front of me.
I brought it to my nose, taking a deep inhale of the creamy chocolate aroma, wishing we had some peppermint candies. I was a little sad that I didn’t get to partake in the peppermint hot cocoa at Just Treats.
The key fell to the counter and Agatha huffed. “Would one of you—” She flapped her hand around. “I just don’t have it in me tonight.”
I placed the warm mug down then picked up the key. It was long and brittle-feeling, though that could just be the exterior paint. Looking at the intricate design at the top of the key, I realized it was a pair of Ws.
Wildewood.
There was no strap that fit under the keyhole. Nothing to ‘lock’ the book closed, but I proceeded to insert the key into the cover. Twisting it, I removed the key and the book opened. A table of contents appeared, written in many different scrawls. I flipped the pages, the table of contents longer than any I had ever seen, and in no particular order. It would take hours to find anything.
I glanced at Agatha. Her eyes glistened. She put her hand over the book, barely touching it. “I have been searching for that key.”
“When you said the key to the grimoire, I didn’t realize you meant an actual key,” I admitted.
“It’s to keep it safe from non-Wildewoods.”
I flipped to the middle of the book. “How do we find anything in here?”
“You think it,” she answered curtly. “Go on. Give it a try. Hold your hands over the pages.”
I placed my palms above the book and thought about the shadow—I didn’t know what else to call it. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a ghost, but beyond that, I had no clue. I knew it was small and sneaky. It was fast and seemed timid. The pages began to flip, fanning my hands, and then it stopped abruptly.
Ink appeared as if it were being written now and not many years ago. My fingers trailed down the page, the ink was dry. That was a neat trick. At the top of the page, in an immaculate script, “Hobgoblins.” There was a small paragraph explaining what a hobgoblin was, but the cliff notes version was: A sneaky creature, easily scared, and often up to no good, but very loyal to its owner.
“What exactly were you thinking?” Agatha asked.
“I’ve been seeing this little shadow . . . I think it’s what left the key for us.”
She hmmed in response.
Taking in the bits of information down the page, I noticed someone had scribbled a note near the bottom about how to catch a hobgoblin. Perfect, I thought and pulled a notebook out of the junk drawer next to the sink.
Agatha was looking over my shoulder, and I clicked the pen. “Does this mean something to you?” I asked her.
“Not sure.” Her eyes seemed distant. “I’ll be back.”
Agatha snapped her fingers and vanished in a cloud of smoke, leaving Maisie and me alone to fan it away. Of course, she’d poof away, like always, instead of telling us what was going on. Maisie picked up her cup and came to stand next to me. We paged through the book for a while, stopping occasionally to look over spells.
Tears stung the corner of my eyes. I was in awe. It felt amazing to hold a compilation of all the Wildewoods since their beginning. Every spell they used, and the occasional recipe. We literally had our entire family history stored in one, very large, book.
I finally closed it; my eyes tired from trying to read the script.
Maisie took the book into her room to continue to look through it. I climbed up the stairs, kicking my shoes off. My pinky toes ached from the new boots. I missed the ones I had thrown out. After changing into a mismatched set of pajamas, I laid on my stomach on my bed with the perfume sample and the flower petal in front of me.
I picked up the sample and unscrewed the little plastic top. Sniffing, I gagged and held it away. I suppose everyone had their own likes in perfume but I just couldn’t get over this one. I took another sniff. Jessica was right though, there was something else in it that I, also, couldn’t put my finger on. I blinked, my eyes watering and my nose numb. I wiggled my nose, wondering if there was something in the grimoire that could help.
I was positive the flower petal was the key to finding out who killed Sasha and, probably, Eugene, but what I still didn’t understand was where Peaceful Acres fit into the puzzle. Eugene and Vargas were arguing over the land—but who owned it? Were they trying to buy it together or was it a disagreement over money?
If this issue was between Eugene and Vargas, why did Sasha end up dead?
I rolled off the bed to lay the items on the dresser and saw Natalie Remington’s business card. Holding it between two fingers, I decided I would pay her a visit. Wildewood Realty was the only real estate group in town. Surely, someone could tell me who owned Peaceful Acres and shed some light on the situation.
I woke up in a crabby mood and brushed it off to having not spoken to Ethan. I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I did. I missed his smile, his deep-set dimples, and the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me. Ignoring the hurt I was feeling as much as I could, I dragged myself out of bed. Maybe I was being too stubborn waiting for him to come to me, but I couldn’t be with someone who brushed off anything and everything deep.
After getting ready, I noticed the answering machine was blinking and secretly hoped it had been a message from Ethan—I rarely checked it, only when I was expecting a call—instead, it was an old message from Eugene letting me know he would be delivering the oven in the morning. Of course, this was from a few mornings ago. Hearing his voice brought tears to my eyes because I knew we may never see him again.
I shoved the perfume sample, the petal, and Natalie’s business card into my bag before heading out. The sidewalks were buried under a few inches of snow that had fallen overnight. Maisie shivered next to me as we walked up the street to the café, mumbling about needing to get a car.
A car would definitely come in handy during the winter and the hottest part of summer. And days it rained. I guess I could retire my broom. Scratch that—I would not be retiring my broom any time soon. Unlike Maisie, I enjoyed flying above the trees, as long as it listened to me.
We got to work on our morning duties. I slid a tr
ay into the new oven, feeling thankful for its quick installation, but a knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I set the time. This had been the last thing Eugene had done for me, and I hadn’t had a chance to keep my promise: A dozen muffins of his choosing. I didn’t even know which one he favored.
I hoped I had the opportunity to ask him. I would never forget.
After the first rush of eager customers, I grabbed the phone off the cradle and went to hide in my office. Maisie and I planned on setting our ‘trap’ for the shadow—er, I mean, hobgoblin—this evening. But we needed a silver cage. The grimoire hadn’t been very specific as to why, just that there was something about pure silver that caused the little creature to not sense magic. Or maybe it was the cage itself it couldn’t sense? I didn’t care either way, as long as it worked.
I called Tessa to see if she had a critter cage made of silver but it appeared she drew the line at animal things, and it shocked me. I honestly thought Tessa took in everything, not realizing she had lines drawn. Feeling unsuccessful, I placed the phone back behind the counter and thought of who else I could call.
I looked up at the sound of the door chime to see Esther walking inside.
Perfect.
I poured a to-go cup for her as she found her way to the counter.
“Good morning, Madam Mayor.” I set the cup in front of her and laid out a napkin with a spoon. “Would you like a muffin or a scone this morning?”
Esther’s nose wrinkled as she glanced into the display case. “I’ll pass.” She slid the cup closer and picked up the small, ceramic cow to add cream into her coffee. “Have you figured out how to use the book?” She glanced up at me, her eyes squinting, and I stopped mooing in my head.
I studied her as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Should I tell her we had been gifted the key to the grimoire? I wasn’t sure how she would react; I didn’t think she wanted us to have it to begin with. “Not yet.” Damn, I was becoming quite the little liar. “I have a question . . .” She laid the spoon down on the napkin and tasted the coffee. I wasn’t sure if she was tuning me out or not, but I continued, “I was wondering if you had a particular item I could borrow.”
Esther ripped the top off another packet of sugar. “What item might that be?”
She had a very strange way of showing she was listening. “A silver cage.” I took the trash from the counter and threw it away.
Snapping the lid on her to-go cup, Esther wiped at a small droplet on the side. “Why exactly do you need a silver cage?”
Glancing around the café, I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, I lowered my head and whispered, “I’m trying to catch something that’s been following us.”
“Hmm.” She stood. “Having critter problems? I’m surprised that cat of yours can’t take care of it. Though, he has always been a little lazy.” She looked around the café before her eyes met mine. “I’m on my way to Town Hall. Why don’t you walk with me?”
I removed my apron and ran to the far-right corner of the café to tell Maisie I’d be right back. With my jacket in my arms, I held the door for Esther and we began our short walk across the snowy square to Town Hall.
“I take it you found the key.” Esther placed her hood over her perfectly-pinned-back hair.
My cheeks heated. I lowered my eyes to the ground. “We did.” She was as sharp as a tac. I didn’t know why I even bothered keeping anything from her.
“Hmm.”
Our shoes crunched on the patches of ice covering the walkway. Esther wore heels and I was in awe at how she could be so poised, never slipping on the slick pathway. I was in boots and I could feel my feet about to give out with each step. Did she enchant her shoes? Is that why she never wobbled? I would be needing that spell pronto.
“Have you figured out how to navigate through the grimoire? It’s much bigger than it seems.” That wasn’t the first time she had said that.
“Sort of. I was able to find a page on how to trap my . . . shadow.” My foot slipped as we stepped onto the street.
“A shadow?”
I held my arms out as I teetered, trying to catch my balance. “That’s all I can see. A little shadow moving around and then it disappears,” I admitted, leaving out that the book called it a Hobgoblin. She didn’t need to know what it was.
“Interesting.” Esther led me down to the vault. She held her hand up. The handle began to spin. Clicking sounds came from the large door, echoing in the stairwell. It creaked open and I followed Esther as she stepped inside.
She stopped at a shelf near the back of the room and moved a tall stool forward to stand on. Climbing up three steps, Esther pulled a white sheet off an item at the very top and dropped it to the floor, exposing a small silver birdcage. She didn’t slip once as she climbed back down and I knew, I just knew, she had to be using some type of magic. She set the cage on one of the tables in the middle of the room. I looked around as I made my way to it. She had so many items. More than I remembered the first time I came into this room. My eye caught a row of necklaces, large pointed stones attached to silver chains. I had never seen a necklace like it, let alone a half dozen of them.
“Pendulums.” She nodded toward the jewelry. “Witches use them to scribe for things.”
Pendulum? Scribe? I had no idea what she was talking about. Agatha was right. I might be a twenty-eight-year-old woman, but my magic was at a kindergarten level. Actually, it was probably worse.
“Certain creatures cannot feel magic within the cage. If your shadow is what I think it is, this will do the trick.” Esther tapped her finger on the door and symbols etched into the frame glowed. “There.” She handed it to me.
“What do you think the shadow is?”
“Your family had many creatures that served their needs.” She handed me the white sheet to cover the cage back up. “I imagine some of those creatures might be looking for you. I’m sure word of yours and Maisie’s return to Wildewood has gotten around to things that have been waiting.”
A shiver went down my spine. Things were waiting for our return? I wondered if we should be more concerned about the little creature following me around. It seemed harmless, but perhaps it was a good thing we were one step closer to figuring out exactly what it was and what it wanted.
I thanked her, taking the cage and her cryptic message with me back to the café.
The sun had set. More snow had fallen in the past few hours. The temperature outside was cold enough that the snow stuck. Even though the café was warm, each time the door opened, it dropped a few degrees. I contemplated talking Maisie into another broomstick ride, so we didn’t have to be in the cold for long. I watched her smile at Zach as he took the stack of dishes out of her hands. It was good to see her happy. On second thought, I wouldn’t ask her. She would probably hit me with the broom if I even hinted at it.
Maisie turned her head and caught me staring. My eyes widened. She weaved through the café and laid the dishes on the counter. “You’re being creepy.”
I scoffed. “Am not!”
The corners of her lips curled, and she glanced behind her. “I feel like I’ve known him for a while. Is that how you felt with Ethan?” My smile faltered and she grimaced. “Oh, I’m sorry. You guys still haven’t talked?”
“It’s fine.” I picked up the dishes. “Maybe we aren’t meant to be.” My voice trailed off at the sound of the door chime.
Ethan stepped into the café. He brushed the snow off the shoulders of his jacket then ruffled his hair before glancing up. The ice surrounding my heart began to melt. My chest tightened. I took a shaky breath. I hadn’t expected to see him. Not yet.
“Excuse me,” I whispered to Maisie then ducked into the kitchen. The doors swung wildly behind me, and I placed the dishes in the sink a little more aggressively than I meant to.
Grabbing the sides of the basin, I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to slow the accelerated beating of my heart. Did I want to talk to him? Yes. Was I going to? Probably not. G
od, why was this so hard? I wanted to run into his arms and kiss his soft lips. But I also wanted him to stop hiding stuff from me.
“Riley?”
My eyes popped open; my body tensed. I could see Ethan’s distorted reflection in the chrome fixtures of the sink as he stood behind me. “Are you avoiding me?”
Me? Ha! I exhaled sharply through my nose. Spinning around, I placed my hands on my hips. “Why would I be avoiding you? It wasn’t as if you wham-bam-thank-you-ma’amed me. It’s totally acceptable to sleep with someone and then kick them out right after.” I poked my finger into his chest. His perfectly chiseled chest. “Just because you avoid deep conversations doesn’t give you the right to—”
He pressed my hand against his chest. I could feel his heart beating as quickly as my own.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” His eyes softened.
I blinked, speechless. I had not expected an apology. His baby blues twinkled, and I could feel their pull. “Apology mostly accepted.”
“Mostly?” He smirked, a dimple forming in his right cheek and that was all it took for me to become a weak pile of sap on the floor. Curse you, dimples! Ethan wrapped his long fingers around my hand. “What can I do to get you to fully accept my apology?” He brought my knuckles to his mouth and gently kissed them. Curse those incredibly supple lips too.
I could feel his hypnotic stare take hold. Remember, Riley, he was a jerk. A big, beautiful jerk, but a jerk nonetheless. I closed my eyes to resist his lure. “You can start by letting me in a little.” Taking my hand back, I crossed my arms and noticed he was holding a manila envelope under his arm. “What’s that?”
He handed it to me. “The picture you asked me to enlarge.”
I had forgotten, with everything going on. I pulled out the picture, hoping he had been able to capture what I’d seen. It was dark and hard to see any details.
“I told you there wasn’t anything there besides a shadow,” Ethan said.
Squinting, I brought it close to my face. He was wrong. There was a shape within the shadow. I walked past him into the café. Zach was telling the last customer bye as he held the door for them. Maisie was behind the counter, and I handed her the picture. “Do you see anything?”