Page 43 of Magical Mischief

I forced a laugh, feigning more confidence than I felt.

“You won’t be the first villain we’ve kicked out of Stonewick, Gideon. And you won’t be the last.”

He raised a hand to hurl another wave of darkness, but I preempted him, pouring my power into a sudden surge from the runes.

Golden sparks crackled up and wove into a net of light that coiled around Gideon’s ankles, pinning him in place. He tried to shake them off, but each movement only tightened the trap.

“Clever,” he hissed, eyes wild with fury. “But illusions are illusions. You can’t keep me forever.”

“I don’t need forever. Just long enough.”

Sweat beaded on my brow. My arms trembled from the effort of maintaining the spell.

The circle flared bright, pulses of synergy linking me to something I didn’t understand.

Gideon’s shadow-laced spell retaliated, slamming into the barrier with the force of a storm.

I gasped as black flames licked at the edges of my conjured net.

The ground rattled.

Overhead, the lampposts flickered ominously, one of them sparking out. The entire square felt like it was caught in a magical crossfire, mirages clashing in a silent war of whirling lights.

Gideon glanced at my dad with a wicked smile.

“Dad,” I whispered, voice tight with urgency. He gave a questioning huff, blinking those big brown eyes in confusion.

Gideon’s mocking laugh rolled across the center of town, echoing off the frosty shop windows.

“He’s quite helpless, Maeve. Let’s finish this little bargain, shall we? Hand yourself over, and I’ll consider keeping him alive.”

My grip tightened on my wand, and sizzling energy stirred at the base of my spine.

Now or never.

“You think he’s helpless,” I spat, forcing conviction to mask my trembling. “But you have no idea what I’ve learned.”

With a final surge of magic crackling along my fingertips, I reached out toward Dad and pointed my wand at his short snout.

The incantation spilled from my lips in a rush of half-remembered syllables and runic instructions that I’d pored over for hours.

A spiral of golden light coiled around my father’s bulldog form, lifting him slightly off the ground as the magic expanded, swelling, straining.

The visions of my spell flooded my mind as I uttered the last stanza.

By arcane flame and giant’s grace,

Let this being tower fierce with haste;

Above man’s station swiftly rise,

And claim the height that greets all eyes.

My dad barked once— startled.

The collar around his thick neck snapped with a metallic clang.

And he grew.