Page 51

The second the door shut behind Celeste and Darren, I bolted to my feet.

Skye looked up from her menu, startled. “Maeve?”

“ I-I just need a minute,” I said, already weaving between tables, my pulse crashing through my ears.

I burst out into the street, the late afternoon light slanting across the stones, and turned my head in both directions. Birch Street was still crowded, but there was no sign of them. The spot they had stood in not thirty seconds ago was empty.

I started walking quickly, trying not to appear as if I were running. Shop windows blurred past. I peeked down alleys, scanned the faces of every couple, every cluster of students or townsfolk strolling toward dinner.

Nothing.

They were gone.

I pulled out my phone with shaking fingers and opened my texts.

Me: Where did you two head off to?

The typing bubbles didn’t appear immediately, and that made it worse. I kept walking, down to the bakery, across the corner where the stone fountain trickled lazily. I looked for footprints, laughter, anything at all.

Finally, a ping.

Celeste : Everything’s fine! We just wanted to walk a bit. He brought me coffee and everythin g.

My breath hitched. I paused near a lamppost and reread it three times.

Ping again.

A photo this time.

The two of them, faces pressed close together, grinning at the camera. Celeste’s cheeks were flushed. Darren’s arm was around her shoulders. She looked… safe. Happy. Whole.

Nothing was wrong in the picture.

Nothing at all.

Another message followed.

Celeste: He said we can leave for the lake house early if that’s okay with you? His parents have already given the go-ahead, and he has all my stuff. I figured we’d beat traffic.

I stared at the screen.

I zoomed in on Darren’s face.

It was the same smile. Open, charming, relaxed. But now, in this quiet moment without the adrenaline in my ears, I couldn’t see the look I thought I’d seen in the restaurant window.

Had I imagined it?

I stared at the image, trying to summon the unease I felt.

It didn’t come.

Just my daughter smiling in a selfie.

I typed back slowly.

Me: Of course, honey. Just text me when you get there. Please.

Her response was immediate.

Celeste : You got it! Love you

I stared at a heart emoji and exhaled slowly, finally letting my shoulders fall.

Maybe I was just… being what I swore I wouldn’t become.

An overprotective mom with too much magic on the brain.

The door to the bakery down the street jingled, and I turned just in time to see Keegan step out, a muffin in one hand, his other already unwrapping the paper.

He took two steps before spotting me.

His brow furrowed. “Maeve?”

I tried for a smile. It didn’t land.

He walked up, half a muffin already gone. “You okay?”

I glanced back toward the spot Celeste had disappeared from. “I don’t know.”

His expression softened. “Walk me through it.”

We crossed to the little bench outside the restaurant and sat down. I told him everything from Celeste’s excitement to Darren’s grin, to the flicker I’d seen that didn’t feel right, even if I couldn’t describe what exactly it was.

Keegan listened without interrupting. When I paused, his jaw worked thoughtfully as he swallowed the last of his muffin.

“So he grinned,” he said carefully, “and something about it felt off.”

“Yes. But... when I saw the picture she just sent me, it was gone. It looked perfectly normal. Like any boyfriend surprising his girlfriend.”

Keegan tilted his head, his storm-gray eyes kind. “And you think it might have been something from Shadowick?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe? I just... I had this feeling. The same one I had when I stood near the cursed mirrors. When I walked the path…”

Keegan leaned back slightly, the bench creaking beneath him. “I haven’t seen him. But from what you’ve told me... it sounds more like mom-sense than danger sense.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to convince myself.”

“Maeve,” he said gently, “you’ve been running at full throttle for weeks. You’re not just carrying magic, you’re shaping it. Rebuilding the Academy. Guarding the students. You’ve been bracing for a threat that keeps hiding in corners.”

I nodded, my throat tightening.

“And now your daughter, your non-magical daughter, is in town, close to it all, without knowing what’s going on.”

“Exactly,” I whispered.

“Which makes your instincts double time.” He rested his hand over mine, grounding. “But you know what’s also true?”

“What?”

“You’ve raised a smart, capable, sharp-as-a-whip girl. And she knows herself. That photo? That smile? That’s real. And if something wasn’t, she’d know it. And so would you.”

I looked down at our hands.

“I hate how fast she’s growing up,” I said.

He chuckled. “That’s the job.”

“She’s going to this lake house,” I muttered. “No idea what could be waiting, and I can’t go charging in there waving a wand and interrogating her boyfriend in front of a canoe.”

Keegan smirked. “Though I’d pay good money to see that.”

I bumped my shoulder against his. “You’re not helping.”

“Sure I am,” he said. “You’re just being a mom. That’s allowed.”

I sighed and leaned into him for a moment, letting the quiet between us settle.

“I needed this,” I said.

He squeezed my hand gently. “And she needed to go. To do something normal. To fall in love. To leave, even.”

“I know,” I whispered.

We sat there for a long moment, the breeze shifting around us, carrying the laughter and clinking of silverware, and the distant melody of wind chimes down the block.

The fear hadn’t vanished, but it had lessened.

“I’ll keep an eye on her from here,” I said, mostly to myself.

“And I’ll keep an eye on you,” Keegan replied.

A rare peace settled in my chest.

Maybe I had imagined it.

Perhaps I was just being a mother standing between two worlds, unsure how to let one daughter walk freely through the one she didn’t even know existed.

I pressed a hand to my hip, where the butterfly mark had finally cooled.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

We returned to the restaurant quietly, the door chiming behind us like a lullaby, as the hum of conversation and the clinking of plates enveloped us.

The table still held the imprint of Celeste, her napkin half-folded, a light lipstick print on her water glass, a trace of perfume lingering in the air like a held breath.

Skye looked up as we approached, her smile instant and wide. “Took you long enough. I was about to tell the waitress we lost you to a traveling bard or a strong gust of wind.”

I chuckled and slid into the seat beside her. “Let’s not tempt fate. Stonewick’s full of both.”

Keegan settled across from us, the tension in his shoulders easing as he leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head with an easy sigh. “Well, I’m still here. No bards, no gusts. Just mildly concerned overprotective adults.”

“Sounds like a full-time job,” Skye said, grinning as she nudged her glass toward mine.

I clinked it gently with my own. “Cheers to keeping everyone alive and mostly sane.”

“And to food,” she added. “Because if I don’t eat something substantial soon, your child’s future godchild may start kicking out of protest.”

That made all of us laugh, and for a moment, it all felt like it used to be.

Before the dragons, before the Wards, before I’d been handed the strange, glittering key to something ancient and dangerous and beautiful.

Skye didn’t know what had changed in me, and I couldn’t tell her, not yet.

But in the low light of the restaurant, with her laughter echoing and Keegan’s presence steady across the table, I let myself pretend we were just three friends catching up after a long week.

The waitress came over with bread and herb butter, and we fell into easy chatter.

Skye told a ridiculous story about a childbirth class she’d recently attended where the instructor made everyone act out being various animals during labor.

“I mean, how does one convincingly waddle like an owl? I ask you.”

Keegan nearly choked on his water, and I laughed until I wiped tears from my cheeks. It felt good. Safe.

“I miss this,” I said quietly as the conversation dipped into silence. “Just being together. Talking about ridiculous things.”

“You can still have this,” Skye said. “Stonewick or not. You’re still you.”

I gave her a weak smile, knowing the truth was far more complicated, but grateful that she believed it.

Dinner came, warm roasted vegetables, lentil stew, brown rice still steaming in its bowl. Comfort food, the kind that makes your insides feel warm and cozy. We passed dishes, shared bites, and told stories that wandered and looped, making room for everyone.

“I still think you should name the baby after me,” Keegan said casually, biting into a carrot.

Skye raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know the baby’s gender.”

“Details,” he said. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Don’t you always?”

Skye looked between us with narrowed eyes. “You two are oddly synced. Should I be worried?”

“No,” we said in unison, then burst out laughing.

The night settled around us, warm and flickering, with the trust that only comes with years of knowing someone.

Celeste didn’t text again, but that was okay. I could still feel the echo of her joy when Darren had surprised her. I could still see the way she glowed. And for once, I didn’t let fear edge it out.

“I think she’s okay,” I said aloud, more to myself than anyone.

Keegan nodded. “She’s strong. She’s got you in her.”

“And her dad,” I added. “He’s not magical, but he’s sneaky. She got that from him.”

Skye reached across the table and squeezed my hand once. “She’s a good one. She’ll make smart choices.”

I nodded, feeling it anchor in my chest.

The waitress cleared our plates, and dessert arrived, a pear tart with cream and cinnamon sugar. We dug in slowly, the kind of quiet that follows good food and meaningful conversation.

“I might never move again,” Skye murmured as she leaned back. “You’ll have to roll me to the cottage.”

“I’m not licensed for that kind of transport,” I said, smiling. “But I do have a wheelbarrow at the tea shop.”

She paused, tilting her head. “You joke, but that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

Keegan chuckled. “Let’s not give her any ideas. Maeve’s capable of more than you’d expect.”

I felt myself blush slightly but said nothing.

We lingered. Time slipped gently past. The restaurant emptied out around us until only two other tables remained. The windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside, a contrast to the crisp breeze just beyond the glass.

And then, I saw it.

My gaze wandered, unthinking, to the large front window.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the reflection, shadows cast by lamplight, and movement. But then the shape didn’t move. It didn’t blend with the people walking past or the play of lanterns dancing on cobblestones.

It stood still.

Outside the restaurant, across the street beneath the overhang of the old bookbindery, a figure watched.

No lantern near it flickered. No wind brushed back its hood. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t blending.

It was waiting.

I froze.

The sound of Skye’s laugh beside me dimmed. Keegan was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it.

My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass.

It wasn’t just someone out for an evening walk. It wasn’t a student or a late-night reader leaving the bookstore.

It was watching. Focused. Entirely still.

And even across the street, I could feel the pressure of its gaze pin me in place.

Keegan noticed first. “Maeve?”

I didn’t answer. My throat had gone dry.

Skye turned to follow my gaze. “What are you—”

“I’ll be right back,” I said, standing slowly.

I couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t look away.

Because whoever that was, whatever that was, they weren’t just watching.

And they were waiting for me.