“Hello?” I call out.
No answer.
Ame and Jack should both be at work. Niko moved out a few weeks ago in order to live above the restaurant that he will be opening in town. And the last time the little tinkling bell above the door rang was twenty minutes ago, when the town’s healing witch left with a new spell for soothing bug bites.
But I swear I hear movement. I dismiss the possibility that the rustling is Lucky, my sister’s black cat familiar. Lucky always goes to the vet office with Ame. The feline helps the anxious animals calm down when my sister has her hands full. My brothers’ familiars also don’t tend to come by the library without them.
The house should be empty.
Then what the fuck am I hearing?
I carefully climb down from the stepladder I just scaled and hold out the Swiffer Duster I was using to clean the top shelf, as if the fluffy device could double as a weapon.
My nerves have been on edge all day, half my mind always on Bo. Wondering where he ended up. If he’s left town. If he’s hungry without any money. If he’s cold and uncomfortable, holing up in that rotting trailer. Worry is an unwanted companion I can’t get rid of. Maybe that’s why I’m having an over-the-top reaction about this mysterious sound.
I try to move as quietly as possible from one room to the next. Tree wallpaper shifts to sage-colored paint as I shuffle into the sitting room. As I get closer, I hear more noises.
Scuffling. Rustling.
And was that a chitter?
“Hello?” I try the greeting again, doing my best to keep the snap of accusation from my voice.
I don’t know why I am so suspicious. Maybe it’s the stress of the last few days. Releasing a monster trapped in a statue on my land. And there’s the fact that earlier this year, everyone who was asleep in this house was put under a spell to keep us that way while a rogue mythic attempted to steal a hidden item in the house.
For that encounter, I was very grateful for the leftover dragon hoard magic. I know it was traumatic for Bo to have been cursed and probably now sees the enchantment as inherently evil. But Hamish, the selkie who broke into the library, lashed out when he was discovered and almost killed my brother Anthony. When the house captured Hamish, we were able to escape whatever nefarious plan he’d had.
The witches handled his punishment. I just hope I never have to see the shifter again.
But now we’re back to this mysterious noise. To someone in this library that I have not accounted for.
Someone who has not answered my gentle greetings.
The Swiffer quivers in my hand, and I remember,Oh yeah, I am a witch. I haven’t been studying any kind of self-defense or battle spells. Which seems like an oversight at this point.
I make a mental note to research the topic later. I’m sure Ame would like to learn them.
Jack would approve.
Letting my mental shields lower carefully, I search out any hint of an emotional grid in the house. I come up empty. But I’m tired and distracted, so a power boost might be all I need.
I finger the silver locket hanging around my neck. Inside, instead of a picture, there is tightly packed red powder. To anyone else, it may look like I have a small case of blush around my neck.
But this does a hell of a lot more than bring color to your cheeks. Witches have some natural abilities. Magic that we can utilize without assistance. I can pick up someone’s emotional grid in a big sense. But to do anything impactful, we need potions and rituals and spells. Like those contained in all these books. And sometimes, we can do these beforehand, and not all potions are liquid.
This red powder is a family heirloom of sorts. A recipe passed down through multiple generations of Shellys. It is concocted to amplify our emotion magic.
I take a dab on my middle finger and quickly close my eyes to brush the powder across my lids.
Magical eye shadow.
When I blink my eyes open, I can now spy a subtle glow of my own skin. An emotional grid that I have trouble reading from the inside out. But now, I’m aware it’s there. And I can see there is one other grid in this house.
It’s a simplistic one. Something I might expect to see from a child.
Did someone leave their kid in my library?
Oh Gods, I am not good with children.
