Page 21 of Magical Mayhem (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #7)

A heavy pounding rattled the shop door. It was sharp, insistent, and loud enough that one of the herb bundles on the wall fell with a dusty thud.

Nova and I locked eyes, both of us stiff with the thought that perhaps the darkness had come knocking. She rose with her staff, I with my pounding heart, and together we moved to the door.

Nova unlatched it carefully, charms humming low under her touch.

The door swung wide and…

Twobble looked up at us, hunched on the step with his vest crooked.

“Well,” he said, peering up at me. “You look stressed.”

My mouth fell open.

“Terrible,” he repeated with a sage nod. “Stressed. Like you didn’t get any rest at all. I’ve seen carved gourds at market with more life.”

Despite the panic still thudding in my ribs, I laughed.

“You sound just like my mother.”

He recoiled with a horrified scowl. “Low blow, Maeve. Very low blow.”

Nova’s lips twitched, but she kept her composure. “Twobble, why are you here hammering at my door?”

His ears twitched. He shuffled closer, lowering his voice. “It’s Gideon. He’s restless. Stirring. Stella, Bella, and Skonk are sitting on him like chickens on an egg, but the shadows are… shifting. I didn’t want to alarm anyone, but…”

“You’re alarming me,” I said, already grabbing my cloak.

“Good. That was the point.”

I stepped outside, and Nova didn’t hesitate. She locked the shop behind her, beads clinking faintly in the breeze, and we hurried after Twobble as he scuttled down the lane.

The night air was heavy, charged, the shadows overhead rippling as though laughing at us. The cobblestones glistened faintly with lanterns bobbing above on their iron hooks like nervous sentries.

Keegan’s inn glowed at the end of the street with windows lit and gargoyles perched and on standby.

I realized, with a sharp pang, how strange it felt to come here for Gideon instead of Keegan. The irony was cruel.

Twobble didn’t slow. He slipped through the side door, holding it just long enough for Nova and me to follow. The hallways felt familiar, but beneath it, the air vibrated in an unsettling way.

We climbed the back staircase, and Twobble spun around in front of us. “In there. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We pushed open the door.

The sight inside stopped me cold.

Gideon lay on the bed, his face pale, lips parted, chest rising in shallow jerks. His eyes were closed, but shadows leaked across his temples like bruises.

The quilt Ember had chosen was tangled and kicked off.

Stella stood at the bedside, her shawl thrown back, bracelets flashing as she pressed both hands over his chest. Her lips moved quickly, incantations spilling out with a mixture of authority and irritation, like she was scolding the shadows themselves.

“You said to keep him kicking, and by golly, we’re trying,” she muttered in between pushes.

Bella knelt near his feet as she held a stone against his ankle.

Skonk, of course, perched on the arm of a chair, waving what looked suspiciously like a frying pan as if he were ready to whack Gideon back into unconsciousness if it came to that.

The room buzzed with a current I could feel in my teeth.

I froze in the doorway. This wasn’t just dangerous. The ancient magic stirring was colossal, old, raw. Way beyond me.

“This,” I said before my brain caught up with my mouth, “is way above my pay grade.”

The room stilled.

Stella’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

My cheeks flamed. “Did I… say that out loud?”

“Yes,” Bella said dryly.

Skonk smirked. “She’s not wrong. This is at least three paygrades above goblin standard.”

“Helpful,” Stella snapped. “Everyone, hush.”

Nova brushed past me, moving to Gideon’s side. Her staff pulsed faintly, green light running down its length, and for the first time since we entered, the shadows recoiled. She laid a hand on Stella’s arm. “Let me.”

Stella stepped back, muttering something about backseat spellcasters.

I edged closer, the sight of Gideon making my stomach twist. His lashes fluttered, though his eyes didn’t open, and his lips formed a shape that might have been my name or might have been another curse waiting to spill.

My pulse skittered. I didn’t belong here. Not caught between Stella’s muttering, Bella’s vigilance, Skonk’s frying pan, and Nova’s calm. Not hovering over Gideon when Keegan lay sick only streets away.

And yet, here I was.

Nova’s voice rose, low and steady, words flowing into the air like silk. The shadows on Gideon’s temples danced and hissed before sinking back slightly and curling into the quilt as though subdued. The room eased, just a fraction.

Stella exhaled dramatically, wiping her brow. “Well. That was exhausting.”

Bella glanced up at me then, her golden eyes sharp. “You’d better decide quickly, Maeve. This balancing act can’t last forever.”

I swallowed, the words above my pay grade still ringing in my ears.

Because the truth was, they were right. And I was out of excuses.

The room pulsed with an overwhelming array of stressors.

Stella huffed dramatically as though sheer personality could pin shadows down. Bella crouched with her fox tail twitching like a metronome of irritation, and Skonk tapped the frying pan against his knee in a rhythm that screamed boredom.

I glanced at Nova’s glowing staff as she continued to murmur steadying words over Gideon’s prone body, while I stood at the foot of the bed, hands clenched so tight the nails dug into my palms.

My breath came shallow, uneven. Not because of the spectacle in front of me, but because the puzzle was finally pressing in from all sides, with its edges jagged and unsolvable.

Keegan. Gideon. The circle. The Hunger Path. Sacrifice.

None of it lined up.

The magic required for the circle was ancient, older than the Academy and the Wards. It wasn’t about brute strength or fancy spellwork.

It was about will. About energy poured willingly into a tether strong enough to split the curse wide open and rip Malore’s work apart.

Willingly. That was the hinge.

And here lay Gideon, trapped in a tug-of-war between shadow and breath, his body jerking faintly even in sleep.

And across town, Keegan was just as bad, fever eating him alive, curse gnawing through his ribs like it had all the time in the world.

Two men on their deathbeds. Two anchors who couldn’t even hold themselves steady, let alone lend the circle the energy it needed.

And worse, enemies.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The image was too easy to conjure: me dragging Keegan here, bracing his shoulders against Gideon’s, propping them both up like dolls, and my dad standing next to me.

And then requesting old magic that was beyond me.

But then the moment Keegan’s eyes opened and found Gideon there…

The rage.

The betrayal.

The refusal.

He would never pour himself willingly into the circle if it meant tethering himself to the man who had haunted his every step and threatened to destroy Stonewick.

And Gideon, when his eyes opened?

Gideon would laugh. Even if the choice was between lending his energy to Stonewick or being buried six feet under, he’d pick the grave out of spite. He’d take Malore’s curse down with him, just to prove a point.

The circle wasn’t just about bodies in the right place. It was about unity and consent. And that consent was impossible.

The conflict was driving me absolutely bonkers.

I wanted to laugh, to cry, to rip the quilt off Gideon’s twitching form and throw it out the window.

I wanted to march back to the Academy, shake Keegan until he agreed to let me carry the burden for him, then turn around and shake Gideon until he stopped being Gideon.

But even in my most desperate imaginings, none of it worked.

The shadows outside grew darker. I could feel them pressing against the inn, sliding along the walls, whispering at the windows. Their laughter was quieter now, almost patient, like they didn’t need to rush. Like they knew we were already unraveling ourselves without their help.

The Silver Wolf was roaming wherever she pleased, her presence another mystery I couldn’t solve.

Keegan was sicker than a dog. No pun intended, though it shoved its way through my brain anyway, bitter and sharp.

Malore was out there somewhere, probably leaning against a tree, grinning, waiting for us to choke on our own hopelessness.

And me? I was standing here, watching it all crumble, my own reflection in the window looking more frantic by the minute, while my mom kicked her heels up at the cottage.

I pressed my palms against the bedpost until my knuckles went white. I couldn’t keep circling this problem. I couldn’t keep juggling my loyalty to Keegan, my dread of Gideon, my fear of the curse, the students, the Wards, the whole fragile mess of Stonewick.

Something had to break.

Something had to change.

And then, in a rush so sudden I nearly swayed, it hit me.

The thought snapped into place with terrifying clarity. My breath caught, and my chest ached with the force of it.

For the first time in days, the noise quieted. The clamor of voices, the push and pull of fear and duty, the endless spiral of what-ifs, finally silenced.

I knew what I had to do.

I didn’t look at Nova, or Stella, or Bella, or Skonk. I didn’t look at Gideon’s shadow-marked face. I didn’t let myself think of Keegan’s fevered eyes or the weight of his plea.

I simply straightened, smoothed my shaking hands against my cloak, and tucked the revelation deep in my chest where no one else could see it yet.

The shadows hissed outside, as though they knew I’d found something they hadn’t planned for.

Let them wait.

Because the next move was mine.

I shifted back from the bed, Gideon’s restless form pulling at me like a magnet I refused to touch. The others were still absorbed in the moment, with Stella fussing at her shawl as though she’d wrangled the shadows into obedience herself.

Bella muttered fox-quiet chants under her breath, and Skonk balanced his ridiculous frying pan across his knees like it was holy weaponry.

Nova, though. Nova noticed.

Her green eyes followed me as I straightened my cloak. Her staff leaned lazily at her side, though nothing about her was ever lazy. She tilted her head, studying me in that way she had.

“What changed, Hedge Witch?” she asked softly.

My throat tightened. The truth rose, hot and dangerous, but I swallowed it back. If I were to say it out loud, if I were to give it shape, it would no longer belong just to me. And I couldn’t risk that. Not yet.

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a smile. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Maeve,” Stella said suspiciously, adjusting her bracelets with the menace of a woman about to interrogate a dinner guest. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“The look you get right before deciding something rash. Usually involving old magic, forbidden corridors, or Keegan’s heart.”

Bella’s ears twitched. “She’s not wrong.”

Twobble, who had somehow snuck back to the doorway, chimed in, “I’ve seen that look too. Last time, it ended with a mushroom the size of a cow. Just saying. Do we remember the Wilds? Anyone? That’s how we got stuck with this lump.”

Their voices swirled around me, but I held onto the quiet fire that had sparked in my chest. I couldn’t share it, not with them, not with anyone.

This plan wasn’t for committee discussion, wasn’t for debate or laughter or goblin snark. It was mine. And if I faltered, it would all fall apart.

I pressed a hand against the doorframe, steadying myself.

“I need some air,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended.

Stella opened her mouth to protest, but Nova raised a hand, silencing her. Her gaze never left mine.

Nova knew. She always knew.

The shadows outside hissed, coiling tighter around the inn, pressing against the glass like they were listening.

And I stepped out to meet them.