Page 18 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

My pulse was already racing, which meant trouble was brewing, and it wasn’t the mint tea I’d switched to. I didn’t know if it was the touchdown of Captain Obvious or just…everything.

Across from me, my mother sipped serenely, as if she hadn’t just strolled back into Stonewick after years of avoiding anything with magic in it.

My dad, freshly human after his bulldog stint, sat stiffly in the armchair, hands folded like he was back in school awaiting detention.

And Miora… well, Miora made her opinions known by slamming something glassy in the cellar every few minutes, like the world’s crankiest caretaker.

I had a whole Academy to worry about, plus a cursed wolf shifter boyfriend, even though we hadn’t officially named what we were.

Plus, I inherited a shadow-wrapped nemesis who apparently doubled as family baggage. The last thing I needed was my mother leaning in and announcing, “Maeve, you look stressed.”

Captain Obvious had reboarded the ship.

I wanted to snap, Gee, you think? But instead, I reminded myself that arguing with my mother was like trying to out sass Stella…exhausting, and I’d lose.

Always.

My body felt hot, like my magic had turned into wildfire. Fire in my veins, fire in my chest, fire in my cheeks.

I wanted to throw my hands up and shout, See? This is my life now, thanks for noticing, Mother!

But I didn’t. Because then she’d smirk and tell me I was just like her, and that would be the end of me.

Instead, I breathed through my nose and tried to look like someone not about to combust in her own living room.

Mom tilted her head, eyes sharp and amused. “Darling, you’ve always had a flair for overbooking yourself.”

“I’m not overbooked,” I said tightly. “I’m… multitasking, and I’ve had no say in the matter.”

“She has a lot on her plate,” my dad said softly. “And she’s handling it all well.”

The thing was, I couldn’t even kick them out. Not Dad—he was just reacquainting himself with two legs. Not Mom—though, believe me, I considered it.

She set her cup down, gaze swiveling toward me like a hawk sizing up a field mouse. “You can’t keep all these secrets, Maeve. You’ll split in half.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I muttered. “I’ll embroider that on a pillow.”

Miora’s voice drifted up from the cellar, tart as lemon zest: “Make it a throw pillow. Easier to launch.”

I pressed my palms into my knees and stood. “Alright. I need to get back. To the Academy. To Keegan.”

Mom arched a brow. “And what about the other business?”

My father’s eyes softened, but his voice was grave. “She means Gideon.”

“Don’t say his name!” I snapped, then winced. “It feels like summoning.”

The room went quiet enough that even Karvey’s claws scraping across the roof overhead sounded like commentary.

“How did you know about him?” I asked my dad.

He glanced at Karvey, who was peering through the window, and I scowled.

The gargoyle network was impeccable.

This balancing act would break anyone else. Keegan pulling one way, Gideon the other, the students watching, the curse stretching thin as taffy. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Unfortunately, my worst enemy was also part of the juggling act.

The Academy was no place for my mom’s sharp elbows and unsolicited wisdom, while she’s getting reacquainted with her witch cap, and she certainly couldn’t stay at Keegan’s inn this time with Gideon secretly tucked away there.

The mental image of my mom running into him at the breakfast buffet made me sweat harder than any shadow curse.

So, I did the only thing I could. I pointed at the couch.

“You,” I told Mom. “Stay here. At the cottage.”

Her mouth pinched. “The cottage? Really?”

“It’s cozy,” I said. “And safe. And away from… everything else.”

From below, Miora hissed like a kettle boiling over. “Temporary!”

The cellar door rattled in agreement.

I ignored it, plastering on my best headmistress-in-control face.

“You can rest here. Knit. Criticize the wallpaper. Whatever you want,” I continued.

Mom pursed her lips, eyes glinting with something halfway between amusement and mutiny. “Well. At least it has character, and it’s not like I haven’t homesteaded here before. Though that relative downstairs—”

“Miora,” I cut in quickly. “She’ll… warm up to you again.”

“She didn’t last time.” My mom shrugged.

“Well, try kindness,” I offered. “She might actually like you this time around.”

Another bang from below.

Dad chuckled. “That sounded like a firm not happening.”

I sighed, realizing this was the least relaxing time to relax… ever.

The Academy needed me. Keegan needed me. Gideon, blast him, probably needed me too.

Mom, of course, chose that moment to lean back with a sigh and announce, “Maeve, you really do look stressed.”

I bit my tongue before the snark could spill out. Because she wasn’t wrong. But I refused to give her the satisfaction.

“Tea is handling it,” I said instead, reaching for the doorknob.

“Tea isn’t a cure,” Dad said.

Karvey’s voice rumbled from outside. “Nor is sarcasm.”

I opened the door, the cool air rushing in like relief.

“Close enough,” I muttered, stepping into the evening.

Behind me, the cottage clawed with new, uneasy dynamics: Mom nesting where she didn’t belong, Dad caught in the middle, Miora banging jars in passive-aggressive Morse code.

But outside, the woods stretched toward the Academy, and I walked through them because if I stopped moving now, the fire inside me might finally catch.

I stood in the trees, the cottage door at my back, the Academy like a magnet in the distance, and my thoughts pulling me toward the inn. Two directions that called me so hard I thought I’d split in half.

Keegan or Gideon.

Keegan, who was unraveling thread by thread under Malore’s curse. Gideon, who had no business being in my world again, yet here he was—half-dead, half-shadow, half a secret I couldn’t tell.

I closed my eyes, pressing my fingertips to my temples.

Keegan had Nova and Ardetia at his side.

I reminded myself of that twice, maybe three times, until it felt like a rope I could hold onto.

They’d been staggering their shifts, watching him, making sure he wasn’t alone.

And more instructors had signed on to cover summer school, so the Academy wasn’t running on fumes.

No, I needed to see Keegan first.

“Stella and the others can babysit Gideon,” I muttered. “They’re practically professionals at wrangling the impossible.”

The words steadied me, at least enough to set my feet on the path toward the Academy. My cloak brushed against the herbs lining the way, rosemary and mint scenting the air, grounding me in something ordinary.

But the air itself had other plans.

Halfway to the Academy, the sky shifted.

Not just clouds moving. Stonewick’s skies never did anything halfway. No, this was a rolling, curling, dimming, and spreading across the heavens. The lanterns along the lane flickered nervously.

The shadows grew.

I stopped dead as breath caught in my throat.

My first thought was Keegan. He’d feel this, even half-asleep, even fading. The curse inside him would answer it. My second thought, traitorous and unhelpful, was Gideon. He’d be calling to it too, as he lay under Stella’s care.

“Not now,” I whispered, tilting my face upward. “I don’t have room for this tonight.”

But the shadows didn’t listen. They never did.

I quickened my pace and tried to keep my breathing steady, as though I wasn’t walking straight into the jaws of something waiting overhead.

The air smelled different now, like ozone and iron.

By the time the Academy came into view, I was nearly running.

Its windows glowed warmly, a stubborn patch of light against the thickening dark.

I slowed only when I reached the steps, pressing my hand to the doors, feeling the pulse of charms woven deep into the Academy’s frame. They vibrated faintly under my palm, like the building itself was bracing.

The thought chilled me. Even the Wards were nervous.

Inside, the air was warmer, steadier. A few students had gathered in the common room, their heads bent over books or engaged in conversation. Their laughter sounded forced, a little too loud, like they were trying to outshout whatever was happening in the skies.

I forced myself to smile at them, though my chest felt tight. “All good here?”

One witch, a woman with streaks of silver in her braid, lifted her cup. “Tea fixes everything.”

“Always,” I said, and I meant it, knowing she must be in Stella’s class.

My steps carried me past them, up the stairs, toward the hall that led to Keegan’s room. The closer I got, the heavier my chest felt, as though the shadows pressing outside had found their way into my lungs.

I knocked once and softly pushed the door open.

The fire inside the hearth was low, with embers more prominent than flames. Ardetia sat in the corner chair, her long fingers draped over the armrest, eyes closed but not asleep. She cracked one open when I entered, inclining her head.

“He’s resting,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

On the bed, Keegan lay propped on pillows, blankets thrown half off in his usual stubborn way.

His face was still pale, damp with sweat, but even in that fragile stillness, he looked more himself than Gideon had.

His chest rose and fell, steady enough, but his brow furrowed as if even sleep was a battle.

I moved to his side, sinking onto the edge of the bed. The heat in the room shifted the moment I touched his hand.

His eyes fluttered open.

“You came back,” he murmured, voice rough.

“Of course I did,” I said, brushing hair from his temple. “Where else would I be?”

His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “You’ve got options. Too many. You could run off with just about anyone. It would be easier.”

My heart twisted. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not losing me.”

He closed his eyes again, his hand tightening weakly on mine. “The shadows… brasher tonight.”

I nodded, throat tight. “I know. I felt them too.”

Ardetia shifted in her chair. “Nova’s out walking the Wards. She said the pressure would crest tonight. Perhaps it already has.”

Keegan’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening. “It’s pulling. Harder.”

I pressed my other hand over his, as if I could anchor him by sheer will. “Then we’ll pull back harder. That’s what we do.”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue, but instead, he exhaled, a long, shaky breath that seemed to leave more than air behind. I bent closer, so he could hear me even if the shadows tried to steal my words.

“You’re not alone,” I whispered. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

For a heartbeat, I felt the weight ease—not gone, but lighter.

Maybe it was nothing more than a lull, a trick. But in that moment, his breathing evened, his shoulders softened, and the room felt less like a battlefield.

I stayed there, holding his hand, my heart still pounding with the choice I hadn’t made. Keegan first, Gideon second.

But soon, too soon, I’d have to face them both.

And the shadows, growing showier by the minute, wouldn’t let me forget it.