Page 31 of Magical Mirage (Stonewick Magical Midlife Witch Academy #6)

We stepped onto the warped steps of the cottage. The dark wood looked even blacker now, as though Shadowick’s light had been sapped out of it entirely. My hand was halfway to the door handle when a voice cut through the air behind me.

“Well, well.”

I froze. Every nerve in my body jolted.

Twobble’s ears twitched back toward the sound.

“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t look. Keep moving.”

But my stomach had already turned to stone. I knew that voice. That lazy, dangerous drawl like a shadow brushing your skin.

The real Gideon.

The one I was used to, not the mirage from earlier.

I turned.

Gideon stepped out from behind a pine, looking as casual as I remembered.

Twobble growled low in his throat, an oddly canine sound for a goblin.

“Inside,” he urged me. “Now.”

But I wasn’t moving.

Because Gideon looked… different.

Not just the usual shadows coiling at his heels.

There was something else. There was an absence.

His skin was paler than I remembered, his shoulders looser, like the strength had been siphoned from him in pieces.

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and those eyes… they didn’t gleam as sharply as before.

The real Gideon was before me, but the change in his demeanor unnerved me.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

Gideon tilted his head like I’d asked why the sky was blue. “Worried, Maeve?”

Twobble barked my name in warning.

Skonk added, “Don’t be stupid.”

I ignored them. “You don’t look well.”

He gave a soft laugh, almost genuine. “You should see the other guy.”

“I have.” I took another step forward. I didn’t know why, curiosity, instinct, or something more foolish, but the change in him was like a scent you couldn’t ignore once you’d caught it. “Who did this to you?”

“That’s not your concern.” His voice sharpened, though he didn’t raise it. “But you, Maeve… you keep turning up where you shouldn’t. I could almost think you’re looking for me.”

“That’s because you took something of ours. You cast a mirage on Skonk. You lured us here.”

“Maeve.” His voice carried a low, velvet mockery. “I can tell you that was not my doing.”

My stomach dropped, but I refused to let him see it.

“Of course it’s you,” I muttered, squaring my shoulders.

“Maeve, it wasn’t me.”

A startled laugh slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “Right. Like I should believe you . Because you’re just so trustworthy.”

Gideon clicked his tongue and tilted his head in that slow, infuriating way of his. “Why would I not confess to stealing someone from your family? It’s a favorite pastime of mine.” His smile sharpened, curling like smoke.

I hated the way my chest tightened at those words. Hated the way he could still needle me with just a sentence. “You’re not as clever as you think,” I said, though my voice didn’t come out as steady as I wanted.

“Mm. Perhaps not. But I am far more honest than you give me credit for.” He leaned against a lanky pine as though we were discussing the weather. “If I had taken Skonk, I would have let you know. I would have wanted you to know.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying him, searching for the lie I was certain lingered between his words. But the more he spoke, the more unease prickled down my spine. He was telling the truth or close enough to it.

“So if it wasn’t you,” I asked carefully, “who did it?”

His eyes flashed, shadows deepening in their corners. “Now, why would I give that away?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do?” I tried.

That earned me a laugh that was rich, amused, and cruel. “Oh, Maeve. You should know by now that I don’t deal in the right thing.”

I crossed my arms tighter, trying to hold my ground even as the air around him shifted, thickened, pressing against me like a storm front.

“You act like you’re the only player in this game, but you’re not.

Whoever set that trap wanted me to think it was you.

Which means they’re either smarter than you or more dangerous. ”

The smile slipped from his face for a flicker of a heartbeat. Just a flicker. But it was enough.

“You’re not denying it,” I pressed. “So you know who it was.”

“Perhaps.” He straightened, his voice smoothing into silk again. “Or perhaps I enjoy watching you puzzle over it.”

I let out a sharp breath, part frustration, part something I didn’t care to name. “You’re infuriating.”

“Yes,” Gideon said softly, “but I’m also right. And if you’re wise, you’ll pay more attention to the hands moving in the dark, not just the one you’re so obsessed with catching.”

His words crawled under my skin, and though I wanted to dismiss them, I couldn’t shake the truth in them. Someone else had set the trap. Someone who knew enough to mimic Gideon’s malice and make me doubt everything I thought I knew.

The way he said my name had the air pressing heavier around us. Twobble moved up beside me now, his hand brushing mine, ready to drag me backward if necessary.

“I told you,” Twobble muttered under his breath, “don’t talk to him.”

But I was already looking past Gideon, into the space where the trees’ shadows thickened unnaturally. The willow’s branches seemed to twitch with interest, as if it could hear us.

“You’re in my way,” I told him.

“No, Maeve. You're in your own way.” Gideon smiled again, but it was sharper now.

Twobble pulled on my sleeve.

“Listen to your goblins.”

“They’re not mine,” I said, my voice low, “but they’re under my protection.”

That earned me a flicker of something in his expression, recognition, maybe, or amusement. “You think you can protect anyone from what’s coming?”

The way he said it made my skin crawl. Like the storm he hinted at was already in motion, and I was the only one pretending it wasn’t there.

But worse, did he already know what it was?

Twobble had had enough.

“Inside,” he said again, sharper this time, tugging at my sleeve.

But I shook my head. “Go. Both of you.”

“What?” Skonk squeaked. “I just got out of a tree and now you’re…”

“Go,” I repeated, eyes still on Gideon. “If you run now, you can make it before…” I didn’t finish the sentence because I wasn’t sure what the before was.

Before Gideon changed his mind?

Before whatever was draining him decided it wanted me instead?

Twobble hesitated, glaring at me like I’d sprouted antlers. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” I said, “but you’ll be alive.”

The two goblins exchanged a rapid-fire burst of words in their own tongue—short, clipped, and tense.

Finally, Twobble muttered something that sounded like a curse, grabbed Skonk by the collar, and started dragging him into the cottage.

“I’ll be back for you if you take too long,” Twobble threw over his shoulder.

“Not if I’m back first,” I said, trying for lightness I didn’t feel.

And then it was just me and Gideon.

The air between us hummed, thick enough to taste.

“You should’ve gone with them,” he said softly.

“Not my style.”

His eyes narrowed. “You think because you’ve survived this long, you’re untouchable.”

“No,” I said, “I think you’re not as untouchable as you used to be, and that gives me hope.”

For the first time since stepping out from the woods, his smile slipped entirely.

And that was when I knew I’d hit something real.

The way Gideon’s smile dropped felt like watching a mask crack. It wasn’t enough to reveal everything underneath, but just enough to glimpse the shadows shifting in his eyes.

“Careful, Maeve,” he said, almost a whisper. “You’re starting to sound like you know something.”

I tilted my head. “I know enough.”

“That’s the problem with you.” He took a step forward, the movement easy, almost lazy, but the air seemed to lean with him. “You take scraps of information and weave them into a tapestry of certainty. Dangerous for someone in your position.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” I said. “Usually with you on the other side of the room.”

He chuckled at that, with a low, rich, and uncomfortably warm sound. “Always with the mouth.”

“I prefer to think of it as honesty.”

“What do you want, Gideon?” I asked, though I hated how genuine the question sounded.

His gaze held mine, unblinking.

“Want?” He almost scoffed, but not quite. “Right now? To see how far you’ll go.”

“I’ve already gone farther than you think.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, like that amused him more than it should have.

“You always do.”

But something in his posture… it wasn’t just posturing. He shifted his weight a fraction too slowly. The line of his shoulders slumped before he straightened again. The shadows that always seemed to follow him felt thinner now, ragged at the edges.

“You’re not well,” I said again, quieter this time.

“And you’re not nearly cautious enough,” he replied.

It should have ended there, with him smirking and vanishing back into the folds of Shadowick, but instead, the air around us began to pulse slowly and steadily.

The trees leaned inward. The ground seemed to tighten beneath my sandals, the dirt clumping together as though preparing to hold me in place.

Shadowick didn’t want me here. Or maybe it didn’t want me leaving.

“You feel it too,” Gideon murmured, almost to himself. “She’s restless.”

“Who’s she?”

He just looked at me, the kind of look meant to tell me I should already know.

“Shadowick.”

The pulse around us quickened. My own breath synced with it before I realized, and I had to force myself to break the rhythm, to step back.

“You belong here by my side.”

“I don’t.”

Gideon’s eyes scanned past me, then back. “Your goblins won’t make it without help.”

“Why tell me that?” I asked.

“Because you’re easier to influence when you’re scared.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not scared.”

He stepped closer, and the air between us thinned. “Yes, you are.”

For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then, somewhere in the woods, a branch cracked, not the wind, not the casual settling of wood, but the deliberate snap from something heavy moving through the undergrowth.

I glanced toward the sound, and in that instant, Gideon’s expression shifted again.