Page 29 of With the Key in the Office

Ava and Drewreached the library not long after we did. Rain clung to Ava’s jacket in a dark sheen. Drew carried a case that clicked in a way that made Maple’s charm give a nervous little blink. Maple mouthed sorry for the blink and vanished into the stacks to give us space, which was her way of helping and also not being shooed.

“We’re going to run the trace here,” Ava said.

We cleared the long table by the windows. Jessie stacked our notes. Jaylyn set the shutters to be half opened, so the light stayed steady. Robbie stationed himself at the end of the table, where he could reach anything heavy. Drew laid out instruments that looked more practical than pretty. A shallow brass bowl. A few vials of herbs.

Ava turned to me. “I need something of yours.”

I pulled a strand of hair from my head and handed it to her. Ava dropped it into a bowl, then added some herbs on top of it. With her hand hovered over my strand of hair, she whispered a few words in Latin while pushing magic into the pile. Lines ran outfrom the center into fine paths of magic, then snapped toward the north window as if tugged by a string.

“Anchor acquired,” Ava said. “She wore you to take the key because it was the only way she could touch it. The key remembers the hand it accepted when it took your blood. We’ll ride that memory’s threads.”

Ava slid a hand into the threads and closed her eyes. She frowned and then took Drew’s hand with her free one. The magical threads wobbled, then settled and stretched again.

“First pull to the east gate,” she said, her words choppy as if she were dictating the scenes as she sees them in her head. “Then a break. Then south to the road. Short ride. Transfer. West for three hours. Urban noise. A rental car that wasn’t returned to its original lot. The signature smears there, which means a charm wrapped it or she wrapped herself.”

Ava frowned and continued. “Two gas stops. A motel where the sign flickers and someone named Don keeps spare keys in a coffee can. Then farther west. Coast air. Salt and fir.”

“Keep going,” Drew said. “If you do, we’ll find her.”

Ava nodded and pushed out more magic. That time I could sense Drew’s magic aiding hers, which was a surprise. I realized that they were magically bound. I remembered reading about witches, and other magical beings, being able to bond like shifter mates did, but it took a powerful spell to do it.

“The Oregon coast,” she said. “Near a town that sells clam chowder under three different names and argues about which one is authentic. Not Cannon Beach. South of that. Inland a touch. Old logging road. Derelict structure. Small and stubborn.”

Robbie gave a short nod. “I know the kind,” he said. “Tin roof if any. Floorboards that don’t trust you.”

Jessie looked at me. “We go,” she said, simple and sure.

Drew had already packed the case. Ava capped the vial. Maple appeared silently with a handful of travel charms for the room and pretended she had meant to pass through anyway. She pressed one into Jessie’s palm and one into mine and tucked the rest into Drew’s hand without ceremony.

“Bring the key back,” she said, trying to sound bossy and landing on kind.

We touched the charm together and thought of salt and fir and a road that forgot where it was supposed to go. The library pulled away. The smell of paper gave way to wet pine and old smoke. We landed in the cover of trees where a path had once been road and now had ideas above its station.

Mist hung in the air close to the ground. Alder and spruce crowded our shoulders. The ocean’s breath threaded through it all. Drew lifted a hand for quiet. Ava closed her eyes and memory threads appeared, leading toward the source.

“There,” she said, pointing.

The cottage didn’t deserve the title. Roof half caved. One shutter barely held on by a hinge. A porch that had once greeted hunters and now greeted raccoons. Somebody had swept recently. The sweep alone made it worse. Abandoned places should not look expectant.

We moved in carefully. Drew walked first. Jessie watched the windows. Jaylyn flanked. Robbie’s shoulder brushed mine on purpose and I let it, because comfort has a job to do and tonightit was hired. We opened the door with caution, then froze in the doorway.

A figure stood just across from us with her back against the wall where the light doesn’t love to reach. Tall and wiry. Straw-blonde hair tucked behind one ear. A nose a fraction too long for her face. She turned her head and for half a second she was me again and not me at all. My stomach tightened. My hands didn’t shake. I named that as progress.

We stepped inside. Nobody moving fast but spreading out just a bit as we studied the strange woman in front of us.

“Seraphina Larkspur,” Ava said, calm and sharp. “We’d like our key.”

She laughed. It came out wrong on my mouth and then corrected itself. “Fizz,” she said. “Only my enemies call me Seraphina. Or people who want to sound important.” Her gaze moved over us like a showman picking a mark. She chose me. “Hello, darling. Sorry I had to borrow your form.”

“Give it back,” I said.

Her edges faltered as if someone had rubbed the glamour with a thumb. The nose shortened. The mouth softened. A new face arrived and then tried to hide its mistake with confidence. She ended up somewhere between a girl who had been told too many lies and one who had told them first.

“Why run?” Jessie asked. “Why this place?”

“I ran because hunters hate fun,” she said lightly, then dropped the act with an impatient sigh. “Or maybe I ran because a witch has her hooks in me, and she doesn’t forgive missteps.” She tipped her head. “And you’re here to ruin my morning.”

“It’s afternoon,” Jaylyn said.