Page 39 of Magical Mischief

The center of town stilled, save for the flickering leftover holiday lights overhead and the distant, muffled wind.

Gideon’s presence weighed on the square. His complex and oppressive energy threatened my own.

He stood there, tall and sure, as a cloak of mist circled his dark boots.

The blue in his eyes turned silvery and gleamed with a smug certainty.

I swallowed hard and steadied my voice. “Where is he?”

Gideon clicked his tongue as his gaze swept my body, pulling me like a thread.

I took another step back.

“Such hostility. And here I was thinking you were offering yourself in trade.” His dark brows lifted.

“I am, but I’m not foolish enough to accept your trade without seeing my father.”

A shiver coursed through me.

Everyone around me stood on hair-trigger readiness, and Gideon seemed to have no clue. He only saw me, trembling and alone. The tension across my shoulders felt like a tangible weight. Every muscle coiled to spring at the slightest movement from him.

I tipped my chin up. “Show him to me.”

Gideon’s eyes glowed faintly in the swirling darkness. He lifted a hand, and the mist churned on one side, moving into a miniature vortex.

My breath caught, and Gideon smiled at my apprehension.

Without wanting to, I braced myself for the worst.

But then a shape emerged from the mist, stumbling forward with an unsteady gait.

My heart lurched as I took in the broad shoulders, the ragged clothing.

Dad.

He looked so real with disheveled hair, his eyes weary but still flickering with that same paternal warmth I remembered long ago, before he’d ever become a bulldog.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I never imagined the day I’d see him in human form again, especially not under these conditions.

My chest constricted with a swirl of hope and dread.

Did Gideon break the curse on my dad?

I studied Gideon briefly and saw the smirk resting behind his gaze when my dad gave a choking sound.

He glanced around as though confused, and then his gaze landed on me. He blinked, recognition flooding his features, and a small wink flickered across his face so fast I almost thought I imagined it.

But I felt the gesture. A shot of warmth in the middle of the icy square gave me courage.

A sob nearly rose in my throat. I had to keep it together. This might still be an illusion. Gideon’s deceptions could be heartbreakingly real.

“How do I know that’sreallymy dad?” I forced the words out.

Gideon turned his smug grin on me.

“Where’s your faith, Maeve? I cast the curse. Could I not simply break it? Do you think I’d conjure this illusion, for what?”

A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me. “Exactly my point. It’s what you do. You did it with my grandfather.”