Page 21 of Magical Mischief

Gideon had tried to persuade me that our goals were aligned.

Or was it a trick of my subconscious, cobbling together realities from the seeds of my fear?Either way, the memory clung to me and refused to fade. The pungent scent of bitter earth and the surge of sour fog tasted like broken promises.

Shadowick was both real and unreal, a realm beyond the threshold of normal dreams, and yet, I was about to go there again…

On my own accord.

I only knew that my father’s life still hung in the balance, and Gideon held the strings. If I faltered now and let my sorrow drown my resolve, the next dream might not be so forgiving. I knew what I needed to do and closed my eyes, letting the voices below drift away.

As sleep finally found me, the streets of Shadowick came slowly into view.

The cobblestones under my feet felt cold and slick, and a thin fog clung to each surface.

Despite the eddying mist, I could see enough to know where I was.

In the center of town. I tilted my head up and scanned the horizon, seeing the mansion I’d come to recognize from my first journey here.

I stepped forward, half expecting the ground to swallow me up or the dream to shatter and send me back to my cottage.

Instead, a chill shot up my spine, but to my surprise, I stayed firmly anchored in that eerie, moonlit street.

And waited.

I knewhewould come.

The row of dilapidated buildings rose like jagged teeth against the pale sky, shutters broken, empty flower pots, every rooftop slanting in a way that defied geometry.

This couldn’t be real.

Dread tugged at my stomach, warring with the determination that had led me to let go in those first seconds of sleep. I needed to lure Gideon to Stonewick.

I took another step and another. The hush pressed in on me.

Where was Gideon?

He’d always been so eager to appear before, and then I saw it.

A tall silhouette emerged, each step echoing with a measured grace. My breath caught in my throat.

Gideon.

Even though I’d braced myself for this, a wave of apprehension flooded me.

The man who stole my father was now strolling casually, as if it were a pleasant evening in some quaint village.

As he drew near, the fog parted enough for me to see him clearly. He looked much the same as I remembered, exuding an aura of quiet confidence, handsome, and tall, and walking along the street as if the world was his stage.

His eyes met mine, and a flicker of a grin played across his lips.

The dull lamplight glimmered off his dark hair, and for an instant, my heart lurched at how… inviting his smile could seem, if not for the malice in his eyes.

“Maeve,” Gideon said, his voice a low, resonant purr that cut through the silence. “I’m glad you decided to return.” He made a casual sweep of his arm, indicating our surroundings. “And this time, without all that sorcery and spirit-conjuring. I do like my apprentices to learn on a more personal level.”

A wave of anger rolled through me.

“I’m not your apprentice.” I held his gaze. But my voice trembled a little, and I hated that. “Don’t think for a second I came here because I wanted to. You’ve kidnapped my father. I—”

He lifted a hand in an elegant gesture of dismissal and stepped closer.