He’s interrupted by a shrill screech from the tree just outside his shop. He follows the sound to its maker, and his expression morphs to incredulous. “Is that Rowan?”
“Yeah,” I admit, feeling weirdly guilty, though I didn’t have anything to do with this.
Ansel swears, rubbing his face, and then barks, “Get in here, both of you.”
I rush into the quiet shop. “Sorry to wake you.”
He grunts, leading me through the back and then upstairs instead of into his workshop. “Coffee first.”
I follow him into an apartment that’s similar to the one over the tea shop. Most of the buildings on Main Street were built with a second-story living space—handy for those who like to bring their work home with them. Ansel is apparently that type, judging from the rocks and random mage stuff scattered around his living space.
His apartment is just as cluttered as his workshop, but his kitchen is clean, with just a few dishes in the sink. Most of those dishes are coffee mugs, making me wonder if he exists on caffeine alone.
Rowan lands on the back of a chair, looking around with an air of birdy disdain.
“What happened?” Ansel demands as he rinses the coffee pot.
“Rowan turned back into an owl.”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “I got that. If you want me to help, give me a few more details. Was he experimenting again?”
“No. He was…” I look at Rowan for help, but of course, he can’t answer. “Well. He was trying to hide, and then suddenly…he hid really well.”
Ansel turns around, drying the coffeepot with a kitchen towel that looks like it’s been in the apartment since 1995. It has geese on it, the type with blue ribbons around their necks. Not exactly Ansel’s vibe. “What could he possibly have needed to hide from?”
“That’s not important.” I stare at the geese. “Hey, you don’t happen to have Rowan’s amulet, do you? It would be nice if he could talk.”
“He took it with him the night we reversed the metamorphosis.”
“So only Rowan knows where it is?” I ask, not liking that.
It’s probably in his room at his aunt’s house. If all this is hard to explain to Ansel, it will be impossible to explain to her.
“Presumably.” He turns to me, leaning against the counter while the coffee maker burbles to life. “So, you’re here for another reversal? If you start making a habit of this, I’m going to begin charging you.”
“I don’t even understand what happened. I didn’t think mages could access their magic without a wand.”
“We can’t.”
I tilt my head, focusing on the finality in his tone. “Rowan didn’t have his wand. It was across the room.”
“He must have had one of them. Most of us have several, you know. Different wands for different types of magic. It’s all about the original enchantments placed on?—”
“He didn’t have another wand. I would have seen it with his clothes.”
“Impossible.”
Rowan shrieks, making both of us jump. He flaps his wings and stares at Ansel.
The sorcerer narrows his eyes at the owl. “Don’t tell me you’re some great fae anomaly. You’re not that special—you can’t work magic without a wand.”
Rowan shrieks again, but who knows what he’s trying to tell us.
“I really need to get that amulet,” I say. “Come on, Rowan. Let’s see if Anna will let us in. We’ll be back, Ansel. Sorry to wake you up early.”
“Wait,” the sorcerer says when I’m almost to the door. He studies Rowan, thinking hard.
“What?”
