“That portrait rarely talks. What did she say?” Calli set the kitten down on the ground. Hades sat behind Persephone, guarding her as he nudged her into the shelter of his front paws. All three of them turned their focus to Malcolm.
His brow furrowed as he hesitated, but at last he repeated her grandmother’s words. “You will break her heart… It has been foreseen. The power of Moonstone Falls will fail, and you will be at the center of it. Leave now before all is lost.”
It took Calli a moment to truly understand what he’d just said. He was going to break her heart? And he would destroy Moonstone Falls’s power?
He caught her chin and held her eyes with his own. “I don’t want to do any of that. You must believe me, sweetheart.”
“I do. You’re a good man, Malcolm—but prophecies are strange things. They always seem to come true…just not in the way you sometimes expect.” Calli suddenly felt hollow, and a dread took root inside her like the cavernous depths of a hollow tree.
Malcolm began to pace the room, then halted and faced her.
“Wait, in Boston, the Salem Witch Council keeps track of prophecies. Do you have a record of prophecies from Moonstone Falls?”
“Yes,” Calli said, some of that darkness transforming to the sparking of agitation of her nerves. “It’s at the town hall. We have a private room where prophecies are stored.” She reached up to grasp the pendant on her throat, trying to find comfort in the large moonstone.
“Let me make you breakfast and then we’ll go,” Malcolm said. He whistled to Hades, who trotted out of the room after him.
Prophecies… Her grandmother claimed to hate prophecies and often claimed she didn’t believe them. Why would she believe this one? And how would she know Malcolm was the one spoken about in the prophecy?
Still plagued by questions, Calli grabbed a t-shirt and jeans and got dressed. Then she scooped up the kitten and headed downstairs to the kitchen. She passed by her grandmother’s painting, intending to ask her about what she’d told Malcolm, but Celestine was nowhere to be seen. The painting was empty except for the landscape of a wooded night and a bonfire burning in a clearing. Maybe the only answers they’d get would be at the Town Hall building.
Delicious smells greeted her when she stepped into the kitchen.
Malcolm removed the egg carton from the fridge. “How do you like your eggs?” He already had bacon and sausage cooling on a plate, and the skillet was already heating on the stove.
Calli sat down on a stool at the island. “Sunny side up, please.”
Malcolm cooked two eggs just the way she liked them and passed her the plate. He poured a glass of orange juice and set it down in front of her as well.
“Aren’t you going to eat something?” she asked.
“Already did. About a half hour ago. Hades and I took a walk to clear my head earlier and I had something then, but I wanted to let you sleep. Those cookies left me with a wicked hangover.”
“Me too.” She dug into the breakfast, glad that the headache had finally worn off. “You know, for someone who thinks he doesn’t do a lot of magic, you do a lot of it without trying.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Kind of,” she laughed.
They sat beside one another at the kitchen island counter while she ate breakfast. Malcolm’s foot nudged hers every now and then as he shifted. She moved a little closer, pressing her knee lightly against his, just enough to feel his body. It was reassuring and comforting, but it also created an ache in her chest.
I could get used to this… to him.
And that was the dangerous thing, wasn’t it? Starting to depend on and need something or someone you might not be able to keep forever. Because this witch-lock thing might not work out. Or it could… and maybe they’d hate each other in the long run. It was scary to think about all the things that could be with Malcolm.
Malcolm talked about his work, what he loved about partnering with companies to create special software for their businesses. His eyes lit with an admirable passion for his career. Calli couldn’t help but daydream as she watched his mouth move as he talked. She could have listened to him forever.
The next thing she knew, she was picturing him naked and pinning her to the wall.
“I was thinking about your pumpkin problem,” he said, suddenly changing the topic.
She choked a little on her food, trying to banish her intrusive but oh-so enjoyable thoughts. “My—er—problem?”
“I remember you said you always wanted to grow one as big as a carriage and turn it into one like in a fairy tale. I want to help you with that.” He nudged her knee with his under the table, and she lightly tapped his calf with the tip of her toes in return.
“You do, huh?” She giggled at the thought of Malcolm waving a wand around and singing “Bibbity Bobbity Boo” to some cinder-covered princess.
“Yeah. We should start practicing together, on growing a pumpkin.” He sounded so serious, his dark brows lowered as he considered it while drinking his coffee.
