Page 35 of Magical Mischief

She would know whose memories could be blurred gently and whose should be left alone. When it came to navigating the line between protection and chaos, Stella was better at mixing minds than anyone I’d ever seen. She just had a way about her that shifted memories. This town would look and feel normal by the end of it all, and no mel would be able to report that they saw magic going down in the center of town.

Nova had stationed herself in the alley behind Hallow & Hearth, a little place that had just opened, and I’d meant to visit.

It was tucked between two shuttered boutiques and was the closest space to the center of town without stepping directly into Gideon’s target zone, and Nova knew how to cloak herself from view, even from him.

And Keegan?

He’d claimed the second floor of the old boutique hotel, where he could see the full circle of the square and every point of entry without revealing himself. That knowledge helped ease the thrum in my chest, if only slightly.

Keegan would be watching.

He always was. Always had been. The thought warmed me in ways I hadn’t expected, but I shook it off.

Twobble, of course, refused to say where he’d be. “A goblin’s gotta keep some mystery,” he’d said with a sniff, vanishing with a puff of curling smoke. I suspected he was already lurking somewhere clever, probably rigging some obscure trap or setting up fanciful spells he’d never explain.

I didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

And the gargoyles, Karvey and his crew, had perched themselves across the hotel's rooftop, stone wings folded, eyes gleaming. They looked like part of the architecture. Waiting. Watching. Silent protectors.

The center of town itself looked deceptively peaceful, festive even.

The massive maple tree was still wrapped in twinkle lights from the Yule festival, casting a soft golden glow on the snow-covered square.

Wreaths hung from lamp posts. Shop windows flickered with the illusion of warmth and joy, but beneath it all pulsed something far more ancient.

The circle.

It was hidden in plain sight. The old stonework embedded in the cobbles, runes etched so faintly that only those who knew what to look for could see them. And I had placed a charm right at its heart, tucked into the soil, bound with my magic.

All I had to do now was wait.

“Stop pacing,” Bella said softly, stepping beside me and bumping her shoulder into mine. “You’re going to wear a path into the snow.”

I froze mid-step. “Was I pacing?”

“Like a fox on its third espresso.” She chuckled. “And I would know.”

“I can’t help it. Every part of this has to goexactlyright. If Gideon even senses that we’re not falling into his trap, the whole thing could unravel.”

Bella shrugged. “Then we don’t let him sense it. We play the part. You’re a scared daughter, desperate to save your father, ready to give up everything. That’s all he needs to see.”

“Great,” I said dryly. “So just pretend I’m terrified and broken. Easy peasy.” I laughed. “Well, maybe that’s not much of a stretch now.”

Bella’s lips curved up. “You’re forgetting that underneath your tea-drinking, fuzzy-sweater-wearing exterior, you’re terrifyingly powerful.”

I barked a laugh. “Terrifyingly awkward, maybe.”

Bella’s ears perked. She glanced toward the southern road.

“Same difference. Now, it’s my turn to find my place.” She bounded off as the wind shifted, sharp and sudden, and my entire body stilled.

She felt what I’d felt.

The fog rolled in fast, sweeping low across the cobbles like spilled milk, curling over boots and stones. It slithered past the lampposts and swallowed the edges of the square.

I paused by a small wrought-iron bench across from the now-deserted tea shop. A faint glow still emanated from its windows, the last ember of warmth in an otherwise silent street.

The tension in the air crackled like a live wire. It was precisely the kind of atmosphere that made one’s heart hammer with both dread and excitement.