Finn smiled as he snuggled down into his pillow, tucking Piggy against his side. “I will. Goodnight, Mom.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart, I love you.”

  “I love you more,” he answered, and then opened his arms for another big hug.

  Once I gave him another hug, I reached for Vellum and explained I wanted to see if a few potions might not shine some more light on our strange little houseguest, to which Finn smiled and nodded.

  “I still hope he doesn’t belong to anyone,” he said after I explained Vellum wasn’t animated by witch magic and it was now up to me to figure out just how he was animated.

  I nodded. “I hope so too, buddy.”

  Then I turned off the light, and watched Finn from the doorway for a second, until his expression loosened with oncoming sleep.

  ***

  The next day, I shut the Wrangler’s door, balancing the little cardboard box of potions on my hip. The buttercup yellow vials inside clinked together lightly as I shrugged my purse strap over my head. Once my hands were free, I settled the box into a more secure hold. It was only a short walk up the block to Lorcan’s dentistry practice, but the dim street lights made the curb into a shadowy mass, and I didn’t want to risk dropping the Tranquility potions I was bringing him.

  A lot of people were nervous about going to the dentist, even those who weren’t also vampires, so my Tranquility potions had come in handy to help people relax. Just use them in an air-freshener, or anoint a few candles, and the whole office would be Zen in no time. No more people in the waiting room with white-knuckled grips on the chairs, no more crying children. I always imagined the screaming children had to be hard on a guy with super hearing.

  Speaking of potions, last night I’d tried a few on the book but hadn’t learned anything. The only thing I could walk away with was the knowledge that the book wasn’t trying to hurt anyone—just as Betanya and Olga had already announced. As far as anyone could tell, it was a good book. But I was no closer to figuring out what the book was, where it had come from and why it had been hanging around my shop.

  I was just passing the notice board outside Lorcan’s office when one colorful flyer caught my eye, and I paused long enough to read it.

  Among the pictures of playing cards, rainbow scarves and a white rabbit in a top hat, the poster announced there would be a magic show coming up in just a few days and the show was set to take place at the Half-Moon Bar and Grill. I leaned the box against my hip long enough to dig my phone out of my purse in order to snap a picture of the poster.

  I could already imagine how excited Finn would be when I told him about the upcoming show. This morning he’d woken up extra early so he could practice the tricks in the book, and he was sure he almost had the first one down. I could only imagine the chance to see a real magician in action would thrill him. If we stuck around after the show, he might even be able to get an autograph and maybe even some tips from a professional on how to do the card tricks correctly.

  I was so glad to see Finn happy and excited about something, since he’d been dragging himself around for weeks. I’d worried that he’d been staying up too late, maybe sneaking out of bed to play video games or something, but I couldn’t find any sign of that. As far as I could tell, he was going to bed on time, sleeping through the night, and yet waking up tired, as if he hadn’t slept at all. If the new hobby hadn’t perked him up so much, I was seconds away from making a doctor’s appointment for him. But a magic book and a few cards, and Finn was almost back to his old self—or so it seemed.

  I was still smiling as I gently bumped the door to Lorcan’s office open with my hip.

  The vampire himself was standing just outside of one of the exam rooms, having what looked like a very hushed argument with a very pretty dark-haired woman in violet scrubs. He certainly looked different in pale blue scrubs and his white coat instead of his usual dressier clothes, with his blonde hair pulled back. He was still just as handsome, though. Wanda was a very lucky witch, not that she’d ever admit it.

  “Poppy,” Lorcan called, a hint of surprise in the lilt of his Irish brogue. “What brings you over for a visit?”

  I saw the hint of worry roll through his green eyes, and before he could start to think that maybe something was wrong with Wanda, I held up the box in my hands and grinned.

  “I have a delivery for you!”

  A wide smile crept over Lorcan’s face as he accepted the potions. “Ah, and just in time too, as I was getting dangerously close to running out.”

  I beamed back at him—one of the things I loved about Lorcan was that no matter how many times he might have seen you in the span of, let’s say a week, he always acted not only as if he was surprised to see you, but also as if you were the most important person in the world.

  “How was your date with Wanda last night?” I asked.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the young woman in scrub’s face twist with absolute misery. When she realized I’d seen her, she shot me a look before turning and stalking away into the back room.

  I watched her go and turned back to Lorcan, confused. “What was that all about—did I say something wrong?”

  “Ah. Yes… that.” Lorcan raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. I’d seen him suave, charming, fierce, and even scary when the occasion called for it. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him looking sheepish before. “Jennifer might have walked in on Wanda and I in a rather compromising position in one of the examination rooms a little while back.”

  “Oh,” I managed and tried to hold back my smile, but it got the better of me.

  “Yes, quite so,” Lorcan continued, and appeared as if the cat even had his tongue. “Apparently, the poor girl had a bit of a crush on me, and now she’s a little… bitter, I suppose.”

  From the expression on the ‘poor girl’s’ face when I asked about Wanda and Lorcan’s date, I wasn’t sure ‘had’ a crush on him was the right word for it, but Lorcan’s romantic entanglements weren’t any of my business, until they started affecting Wanda at least, so I let it go with a sympathetic pat on the arm.

  “I hope you have a wonderful day, Lorcan.”

  All the chagrin melted away, and Lorcan’s pleased smile returned full force. “Thank you again, Poppy, you are quite the friend and the gentle lady.”

  I always liked it when Lorcan reverted to the language he would have used in his earlier years—it always made me feel like we were living in one of Jane Austen’s novels.

  He was still holding the box and looking pleased as I waved and headed back to the Jeep. The brightly colored poster caught my eye again as I dug out my keys, and I made a mental note to tell Finn about it once he got home from school—this was Finn’s last week of school before summer break.

  I had a feeling today was going to be a good day for Finn.

  ***

  The Next Day

  The dishes clinked together in the old farmhouse sink as I ran a soapy cloth over them.

  It had been a long day at the store, and I’d need to go over my inventory list to see what potions I’d need to batch make over the weekend. My energy was flagging, and I thought about sitting down for a few minutes before finishing the dishes, but there were only a few left and I’d be able to sink down on the couch afterwards.

  I was just rinsing the suds off my hands when Finn came skidding into the kitchen, his face lit up with excitement.

  “Mom! I did it! I figured the trick out!”

  “That’s great!” I grabbed the blue checkered hand towel to dry my hands. “Do you want to show me?”

  A very excited Finn towed me into the living room and told me to sit on the couch. Then he pulled out a worn looking deck of playing cards that he must have fished out of our game cabinet beside the television, and began to carefully shuffle them, his forehead creased with concentration.

  “Watch the cards, okay, Mom?”

  “Okay.” I curled my legs up on the cushion beside me and turned all my attention to the cards as he moved them around in front of me. When he was finished shuffling the deck, Finn flipped the cards around so I could see their faces as he started fanning the cards out, cutting them and placing them back in the deck in a complicated looking pattern.

  But as the cards flipped through his hands, they… changed. I could have sworn they were just an old deck of playing cards we’d had lying around. Instead of the familiar black and red symbols and numbers that I’d just noticed on them, the next card Finn flipped over had a color picture on it. But that wasn’t what was so weird… it was what was pictured on the card that made my heart start pounding.

  It was an image, a drawing, of me and I was standing at the counter of my store, Poppy’s Potions, before the store was due to open (I could see the closed sign in the window).

  “Wait… how?” I started, but Finn shook his head as if to tell me not to interrupt as he pulled up another card. This card was the same brownish color as the furniture in the store, with words in a beautiful gold calligraphy scrawled across it. “You are generous and hard-working.”

  A few more pictures followed, the first of me on the couch watching a movie with Finn, who was cuddled up to my side. Then the next card pictured me sitting at my kitchen table with a glass of rainbow-colored liquid in hand and the rest of the Black Cat Cocktail Club beside me, laughing and happy as we enjoyed our cocktails.

  “Finn, how is this possible—” I started.

  “Let me just finish the trick,” he answered, seemingly completely unconcerned with the fact that the cards were like a pictorial diary of my life. Something I found not only strange, but concerning because I didn’t know how this was possible. Finn wasn’t supposed to be capable of magic. And I was fairly sure… this was magic.

  The next card Finn flipped over was painted like a watercolor, in all the shades of early dawn; pink and violet and peach. “You are worthy of love,” the golden lettering proclaimed and the next card pictured me quite a long time ago, holding baby Finn on the day he was born.

  I had to clear my throat to keep my voice from breaking. “How are you doing… that?”

  Finn glanced from me, to the cards, and back again, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m just showing you the card sequence, like the book says to do.” Then he looked up at me and appeared to notice my baffled expression. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

  All I could do was shake my head, still staring at the beautiful watercolor card with its gold calligraphy. You are worthy of love.

  This wasn’t just a card trick. It wasn’t a sleight of hand, or a misdirection—it was like a doorway into my life—bringing forth images of times past. This was… well, it was magic, plain and simple. Like, the real kind, and I had no idea how Finn was doing it.

  Finn bit his lower lip, his grip on the cards tightening. “Should I stop?”

  “No.” My voice broke on the word, and I cleared my throat and tried again. “No, sweetie—you did a really good job.”

  Finn’s face cleared, and he took my hand when I reached for him. His smile peeked out, small, but warm.

  “That magic you just did? It was real,” I tried to explain to him, even as my heart continued to stutter in my chest. “That wasn’t just a trick, Finn. That was like something a witch could do.” I shook my head, still amazed. “I’ve never met a gypsy who could do anything like that.”

  “Like what?” Finn appeared confused.

  But I was also confused because I didn’t know how this was even possible. How had Finn just woven magic with a card trick? “I think… I think it was… illusion magic,” I continued.

  “Illusion magic?” Finn repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “It means… well, it’s something bigger, and more complex than anything I can do. I’ve never heard of anything like this regarding illusion magic—like using it in a card trick. In fact, I’ve never heard of anyone who could do this sort of thing.” I took a deep breath as I looked over at him. “It’s incredible, Finn.”

  Finn stared at me, his eyes wide. “Real magic? I thought it was just a card trick!”

  He reached for the book where it was resting on the coffee table, and started carefully turning the pages while the red silk ribbon wagged encouragingly. Finn ran his finger along one line, and the book ruffled its pages, like it was ticklish.

  “Here, see.” Finn pointed to the page near the top and I reminded him the book’s pages still appeared as blank to me as they had the first time I’d seen them. “This one I just performed for you is called ‘Stacking Hope’. I just thought it was a weird name for a shuffling sequence.”

  “Not just a shuffling sequence or a card trick,” I said, shaking my head.

  “What did you see on the cards?” Finn asked, appearing highly curious and interested.

  “Well, each card revealed a memory that… well, I guess you could say they were all memories of people or places that are important to me. And some of the cards were nice affirmations. It was really a special… card trick, Finn.”

  Smile stretching from ear to ear, Finn beamed at me. He was so excited, so proud, and it made my heart feel ready to burst. It was so good to see him like his old self again, bubbly, chattering happily about things that interested him. It made it all the more noticeable how drawn and pale Finn had been lately when I got to see his old self peeking through like the sun from behind rain clouds.

  I knew Finn had been struggling since we’d moved to the Hollow. Being surrounded by the supernatural on a daily basis, and often the dark and scary side of it, when you only had a minor talent yourself could be frustrating and frightening. A talent for knowing when people are telling the truth doesn’t help when there are wicked faeries and vampires lurking around.

  Magic, real magic, tended to be woman dominated. I had no idea why—it was just how things were. I’d always been skilled with potions, a talent inherited from my family. But my uncles on my mother’s side were like Finn, with only a little brush of Traveller magic, more of a quirk than a gift.

  I’d thought Finn would be the same. But this… this was real magic. Even I wasn’t capable of making illusions like Finn had just created, much less stacking them and building on them. That was a lot of power my son had just created, more than I’d ever given him credit for. And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  He was only thirteen, for goodness’ sake. He should have been focused on making friends and going to school dances and sports, video games even, but not on mastering magical power. Furthermore, when you had power and people knew about it, they expected you to use it. And one thing I did know, one thing I’d learned from my own experience? I definitely didn’t want Finn getting pulled into dangerous situations—no more than he’d already experienced.

  Whatever uneasiness I had, I squashed it down into a little ball and sat on it. Finn just looked so happy, clutching Vellum to his chest while the book wriggled around like an affectionate pet. No matter how worried I currently was about this new ability Finn had just manifested, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything that might take that joy away from my son. And I reminded myself, not for the first time, that there was nothing bad about Vellum—Bailey, Betanya, Olga and I had all reached the exact same conclusion.

  That thought allowed me to smile fully. “How about we celebrate with some hot chocolate before bedtime, Mister Magician?”

  Finn grinned, his freckles almost disappearing into his cheeks. “Yeah! With marshmallows?”

  I scoffed. “Of course. Like there’s any other way to drink it.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” He placed Vellum back on the couch carefully. “We’ll be back in a little bit,” he explained to the book before following me into the kitchen.

  ***

  It wasn’t until bedtime that I noticed it.

  Finn was all tucked in, with Vellum snuggled up against one side, Piggy on the other, and Finn was already half asleep when I saw the dark mark against the pale skin of his hand.

  I frowned, lifting his hand up to take a better look.

  There, just below the knuckle on his right thumb, was an inky dark number one that appeared to be too well delineated to be something Finn had drawn on himself. The way it was written—with the curlicue at the top of the ‘one’ made it look old-timey.

  I rubbed my thumb over the inked number, but the number didn’t budge. Even a bit of water from the glass on Finn’s nightstand couldn’t wipe away the stubborn mark. It almost looked like a tattoo, as impossible as that was.

  “Finn,” I said, uneasily, as I gave his shoulder a little shake to wake him. “How long has this mark been here?”

  He yawned, blinking sleepy eyes as he looked at his own hand and then frowned at it, as if only just seeing it for the first time ever. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Wait… then you didn’t draw it on yourself?”

  He looked up at me and frowned. “It’s my right hand, Mom. You know I’m not left-handed.”

  “I know… I just… thought maybe you or a friend did it.”

  He shook his head but, strangely, didn’t seem to be the least bit concerned that a random number had just appeared on his hand with absolutely no reason as to why or how it had gotten there.

  My stomach twisted, but I smiled as I pressed a kiss to his forehead and wished him goodnight, because I didn’t want to freak him out—I was doing enough of that for the both of us.

  After I walked out of his room, I lingered in the hall for a few long minutes, though I couldn’t have said why. A nameless kind of dread pooled in my gut, but it didn’t have a target. Something was going on with my son, and I didn’t know what it was, or what to do about it—first the fact that he was acting incredibly exhausted for the last two weeks, then he started weaving illusion magic and now this strange mark appearing on his hand…

  It was with heavy reluctance that I forced myself down the hallway towards my own room. There wasn’t anything I could do without more information and that information wasn’t going to find its way to me this late at night.