The shop door opened with a tinkle. Calli looked up, hoping to see Malcolm, then felt a flash of disappointment when she saw it was only Sage. Her friend stepped inside and came straight over, hugging her.
“You okay?” Sage’s blue eyes were full of storms.
“Yeah. It just feels weird,” Calli studied the sky outside where the red horizon began to turn purple at the edges.
“I know. I keep looking over my shoulder for no reason,” said Sage. “Jasper plans to dig into the town archives to see if he can find anything useful. I’ll help him.”
Calli wasn’t listening. She was thinking about Zelda again, and what she had told her. When Malcolm had gone outside to check on things after the earthquake, the seer had grasped her hand and said, “It was him. He’s the one who’s broken the wards apart.”
As much as Calli didn’t want to admit it, she knew Zelda was right. Opening a portal inside the protection of the wards was almost impossible from the outside. Now she realized that Malcolm hadn’t slipped through the wards, he’d punched through with more force than anyone realized. And the reverberations of that force had cracked the wards, which grew and grew until they broke apart.
Calli wouldn’t tell him any of that. She couldn’t. He’d made so much progress in such a short time. She couldn’t be the one to tell him he was responsible for all this, but she had a feeling he already believed that.
“Where’s Malcolm?” Sage asked.
“At Mrs. Greenlee’s…” she said slowly, unsure of how much she should tell Sage. “He went to see if she knew anything about how to restore the wards.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Mrs. Greenlee used to be the history teacher at Moonstone Falls High School before she retired. She knows a lot about the town that doesn’t necessarily get recorded at Town Hall.”
Sage checked the magical clock on the wall behind the sales counter. It was an antique creation of Calli’s grandfather. It showed the time, the weather, and the amount of residual magic in the air. Now the weather dials showed storms forming ahead. “What time did he leave?”
“About four hours ago.” Calli’s stomach suddenly knotted with worry. “He should have been back by now.”
The door to the shop opened again and Hades trotted inside with Persephone riding on his back. She expected to see Malcolm right behind the two familiars, but he wasn’t with them.
“Hey Hades, have you seen Malcolm?”
The dog whined and came straight to Calli, nudging her hand to get a pet in the way any anxious animal tries to get reassurance. As she did, flashes of Malcolm shot across her mind, alone, surrounded by darkness.
“Something’s wrong…” Calli whispered, staring into the distance.
“You’d better call Mrs. Greenlee,” Sage suggested. “Hopefully he’s still there.”
Calli grabbed the phone she rarely used from behind the counter and dialed the Moonstone Inn. Persephone leaped from Hades’s back to the counter and rubbed against Calli’s arm, purring reassuringly. Calli stroked the kitten’s long black fur while the phone kept on ringing.
Mrs. Greenlee finally answered. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Greenlee, it’s Calli. Is Malcolm still there?”
“What? No, dear, he left before we could finish talking. He seemed troubled.”
“Troubled?”
Sage leaned closer to Calli to hear.
“Yes, you’d better find him, Calli. I’m worried about him. He seems like such a nice young man.”
“I’ll find him.” She blew out a breath as a tightness gathered in her chest. Where could he have gone?
“You’d better see Finnigan,” said Sage. “He can help you find him.”
“I will, but… could you watch the store until Byron gets here?”
“I’m already here, love,” a deep British voice said from behind them.
Calli jumped, a palm pressed to her chest as she turned to see her night manager, Byron Nightshade, standing at the entrance to the office. He wore dark slacks and a cream colored sweater, his long dark hair was styled away from his face in a way that made him look like some sort of model. He was the epitome of English aristocracy, which was less surprising when you knew he had been an earl in his human life. The vampire studied her and Sage, his dark eyes missing nothing.
“What’s the matter?”
