Page 11 of Bearly Bewitched (Mystic Hollow #4)
ELEVEN
T he way he said her name, like he was tasting it, sent shivers down her spine. Common sense screamed that this was a bad idea. She barely knew him. She had a school to run. She definitely wasn’t ready for the way he made her feel.
“Coffee would be nice,” she heard herself say. “To discuss the organizer’s features, of course.”
“Of course.” His smile widened, and oh, that wasn’t fair at all. No one should have a smile that lethal. “I’ll be in touch.”
He headed for the door, then paused to look back at her. “Oh, and Vail? Try not to fall off any more ladders before then. Though I’m happy to catch you again if needed.”
With that parting shot, he strode out, leaving Vail’s magic reaching after him like a flower tracking the sun. She stared at the doorway, mind spinning, until Felicity’s sharp voice snapped her back to reality.
“Well,” Felicity practically vibrated with disapproval, “if you’re quite finished making eyes at the local craftsmen, perhaps we could return to actual academy business?”
“I wasn’t—we were just—“ Vail stopped, took a breath, and squared her shoulders. She was the headmistress, damn it. She didn’t need to justify professional interactions with members of the supernatural community. “You’re right. Let’s get back to the library reorganization.”
Felicity lifted her nose and sniffed. “That’s no part of my job. Good day.” She spun on her heel and left.
Vail shrugged, but as she turned back to the shelves, her magic still hummed with echoes of golden sparks. The scent of pine and mountain air lingered in her memory, along with the phantom warmth of strong arms catching her.
What in the name of all things magical had just happened to her carefully ordered world?
Sabine materialized beside her, Clover close behind. “OMG! The library hasn’t seen that much electricity since someone tried to teach lightning spells to the first years.”
“I’m just being friendly,” Vail insisted, shelving a text on elemental alignments with more force than necessary. “Professional courtesy.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Clover grinned. “Because I’ve never seen ‘professional courtesy’ make actual sparks before.”
“Don’t you both have shops to run?” But Vail couldn’t quite hide her own smile. Her skin still tingled where Kaine had touched her, and her magic hadn’t settled back to its normal rhythm.
“We’re taking an extended lunch break,” Sabine declared, reaching past Vail to grab another book. Then she froze. “Hold on. Look at this.”
She held up an old ledger, its pages yellow with age. “Ward maintenance logs from ten years ago. There’s a name that keeps appearing—Thaddeus Ledger. And look what he was researching.”
Vail leaned in, her brief moment of romantic distraction forgotten as she read the faded entries. “Hybrid wards... curse intensification studies...” She met her friends’ concerned gazes. “Why would anyone need to intensify a curse ?”
The library suddenly felt colder despite the warm glow of Kaine’s carved symbols. As Vail stared at the mysterious entries, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d stumbled onto something far more serious than unstable grimoires or temperamental ladders.
The golden sparks of her earlier encounter with Kaine still danced at the edges of her vision, a reminder that some types of hybrid magic could create beautiful things. But these logs hinted at darker possibilities—ones she’d need to investigate before they could threaten everything she hoped to build at the school.