“The wards are down, and I need to find Malcolm.”
The vampire’s dark brown eyes held a hint of red hunger, but she also saw the concern in his usually implacable face. “I thought I sensed something wrong in the air.”
“I need you to handle the store until closing. We’ve got more non-magics than usual arriving early, and I think it’s going to get busier.”
“I noticed. They smelled delicious.” The vampire grinned, showing a hint of fangs. He was teasing, of course, which eased the tightness in Calli’s chest, if only a little bit.
“I thought you ate before you came to work,” Sage said dryly.
“Yes, little weather witch,” The handsome vampire let out a dramatic sigh that could only have come from an English noble. “Shouldn’t you be worried about that storm brewing outside? I sense it’s a rather large one.”
“I’ll handle it,” Sage said, but Calli heard a note of worry in Sage’s voice.
“Sage, is something?—?”
“Don’t worry about it, Calli. I’ll be fine,” Sage assured her.
Calli had no choice but to trust her. She looked down at Malcolm’s familiar. “Hades, take Persephone home and wait for me to come back with Malcolm, okay?”
The giant schnauzer made a soft huffing sound in agreement, and the kitten hopped onto his back. They left the store at the same time as Calli, heading down the street that would lead them home.
Calli ran to the town hall, where she nearly ran into Finnigan, who had just stepped outside.
“Ms. Calli,” he greeted with that old world yeti charm. He looked completely human now, tall and handsome, with only a faint shimmer of yeti magic letting her know what he really was.
“I was just coming to see you, Finnigan. I need your help. Malcolm is missing, and I need to find him.”
Finnigan’s pale blond hair fell into his eyes as he frowned. “Of course.”
As they left, a cold wind came whipping down Main Street. The air rippled through the signs hanging over the street and rattled doors like an inpatient guest. Scarecrows began to twist and spin as the wind brushed past them. High above, clouds churned like fog in an irate witch’s cauldron.
A storm was coming.
Calli swallowed her unease and focused on Finnigan who now looked like a gorgeous blonde giant of a man who towered over her like Malcolm did at six foot four. Yetis possessed not only a sense of smell as sharp as any werewolf, but could also see in the infrared spectrum as well as see at much farther distances than humans. It was an ability that came from living in the coldest of climates.
Finnigan’s eyes fixed on the distant woods, far beyond her sight. “To the east…” Finnigan murmured. “There’s someone in the woods, at the base of the Black Cliffs. It must be him.”
“The Black Cliffs?” Calli had only been to that place a few times. It was a spot where the witches of old had gathered to perform their ancient spells. The cliffs were made of black tourmaline, a semi-precious stone known for its protective properties. “Why would he go there?”
“He should not linger there. During storms, people have been known to vanish.” The yeti looked at her. “Go now, Calli. Go!”
Calli nodded and ran across the street to Broomsticks & More, which was right next door to the candy shop. She grabbed the first broom within reach and looked at the young sales witch.
“I’ll bring it right back!” she called over her shoulder as she sprinted through the store and out the back door. Confident that no non-magical people could see her, she straddled the broom which instantly came to life, carrying her towards Whimsy Woods. To avoid being spotted, she wove through the trees, shrubs, and thistles.
It started to rain as she reached the far end of the woods, just ahead of the cliffs.
Silvery spells—old spells—swirled in eddies and currents of air. Calli swerved to avoid them. They were faint echoes of ancient and powerful spells that still lingered, and whose purpose had long been forgotten.
Rain lashed at Calli’s face as she looked to the north.
There. The cliffs.
The dark slopes glistened with the rain that ran down the ebony surfaces. She gasped as she spotted a figure near the topmost cliffs walking toward the edge.
It was Malcolm. His wet flannel shirt clung to his body. Heat rose off his body in silvery clouds, and green flashes of magic sparked from the tips of his fingers. He wasn’t looking at her. His shoulders heaved as though he’d run too far, too fast. Seeing him now ignited some cosmic pull inside her, dragging her forward like a magnet. Yet as she flew closer, a note of warning sang in her blood.
Beware hedge witch… Beware…
