“Wow, that was so cool, Mom!” Finn said as he leaned into me and I wrapped an arm around him. “You actually disappeared! How did he do that?”

  I shrugged. “He’s a magician.”

  Was it strange that it bothered me that I wasn’t bothered by Andre? It seemed counterintuitive, but I just couldn’t shake the lurking worry that something magical was going on here—something magical that was toying with my thoughts, making me feel like I knew him, making me feel incredibly attracted to him. Maybe he wasn’t a magician at all—maybe he was an incubus posing as a magician or something like that?

  Yet, his magician schtick seemed pretty convincing… Regardless, it was best to be on the alert. People with magic had ways of appearing harmless or innocent, lulling you into complacency before they snapped their jaws shut around you. Like when Faeries had sent one of their own to pretend to be a normal child in order to abduct my son. Come to think of it, I’d eaten ice cream with them at Stomper’s Creamery, too.

  Then another thought hit me; had I just been asked out on a date?

  Probably not. I mean, I’d told Andre I had a boyfriend, and he knew my son was with me. But then again, why ask to meet somewhere else at all? Why not just ask us to hang around after the show to return Vellum, er, Ouire, then? And damn it all, but what had Andre meant by a ‘trade’?

  I mentally waved my hands, banishing all thoughts of ‘Andre’ and ‘date’ away. I didn’t want to think about it, because if I thought about it, I might start to feel hopeful, and that would be awful. Especially when an image of a smiling Marty landed in my head like a grenade, and a wave of even more guilt crashed over me.

  “Did you really disappear?” Finn continued. “Or were you, like, invisible or something? Do you know how he did it?”

  “Oh, well...” I tossed my hair back over my shoulder and gave Finn the best smile I could manage, even as my brain was tossing and turning with questions and more questions. “A magician’s assistant never reveals their secrets.”

  Finn latched onto my arm. “Mom, c’mon!”

  I laughed at his little pout. “I’m kidding. Yes, we really did disappear. I don’t actually know how he did it, but we’re going to talk to him later—after the show, so maybe you can ask him then.”

  “We’re going to talk to him after the show?” Finn’s eyes shone at the idea.

  “Yep.” I gave his arm a little squeeze. “Andre asked us to join him for some ice cream later.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s awesome!” Finn turned his megawatt smile towards the stage again, almost bouncing in his seat. “I have so many questions for him!”

  His enthusiasm caused a little golden bubble of happiness to rise up in my chest. This was my true son, not the tired, drawn boy that had been drifting around the house lately and I sorely hoped this happy version of Finn wouldn’t disappear.

  I settled in to watch the rest of the show, and couldn’t keep the smile off my face.

  Chapter Ten

  Finn and I settled into one of the red vinyl booths at Stomper’s Creamery after the magic show, and waited for Andre to join us.

  It wasn’t a busy night, probably owing to the cold wind that had started up in the last hour—odd for a June evening. Usually in the summer, the place was packed, even the little walk-up window. Stanley Stomper tended to work the ‘drive through’, while his wife, Shelby, worked the front counter. No one could see your horse legs when you worked at the service window…

  Finn ordered a double-scoop of caramel fudge brownie in a cone with sprinkles on top, and I ended up with a scoop of praline in a cup. The rich, buttery flavor of the pecans melted across my tongue, and I closed my eyes to savor it as I willed my heart to calm the heck down. I didn’t know why I was nervous, but I was.

  “There he is!”

  Finn’s excited little squeal caused my eyes to snap open and we both watched Andre as he stepped through the door. He must really have been a magician, because just like that, he’d transformed me from a middle-aged mom into a tongue-tied fourteen-year-old girl.

  Gone was the black three-piece suit, and he’d replaced it with black slacks and a dark wool sweater with the sleeves pulled down to his hands, so only his elegant, long fingers were visible. He still looked effortlessly pulled together, and part of me wondered if this was his idea of dressed down. The man probably couldn’t do casual if he tried.

  Andre smiled as he saw us, walking across the linoleum floor with a deceptively long stride.

  Ouire wriggled out of Finn’s lap and jumped to the floor. Up on the corners of its cover, the book shuffled towards Andre, its red ribbon bookmark wagging madly as its trunk bent this way and that. Clearly, it was excited to see him.

  I wasn’t sure why, but at that moment, a memory of the red ribbon trick returned to me. And, more pointedly, Andre’s surprise. Why had he appeared so shocked when he’d seen the ribbon? Had the trick not gone as he’d planned it to? I had to stop thinking about how flustered he’d been at the end when we’d both ended up tangled closely together, pulled closer and closer still as the ribbon kept unraveling, looping around us. If I kept thinking about it, I was going to blush again.

  Andre grinned down at Ouire before kneeling to scoop the book up into his arms. “There you are, old boy! I’d wondered where you’d run off to!” He stroked the book’s spine with a familiar motion, and the book pushed harder into his chest like a lost pet returned.

  I looked over at Finn and noticed his sad, little smile. Reaching out, I took his hand and squeezed it, and he looked over at me.

  “I’m okay, Mom,” he whispered, but his eyes reflected unshed tears.

  That was when Andre turned his attention to Finn. Reaching out, he offered his hand and Finn took it, shaking his hand as he looked up at Andre with awe.

  “Thank you, good sir, for returning my friend to me and for showing him such kindness.”

  “You’re welcome,” Finn answered and seemed completely puzzled by and taken with Andre. Then he seemed to remember himself and faced the book, which was now nuzzling Andre’s cheek. “I named the book Vellum,” Finn said sadly.

  “Vellum, what a wonderful name!” Andre took a seat beside Finn and gave him a huge smile. “Ouire is actually a little nickname I gave him.”

  “It is?”

  Andre nodded. “His full name is Grimoire.”

  “Grimoire?” Finn repeated. “That’s a funny name.”

  Andre nodded. “A grimoire is actually the name of a textbook of magic and includes instructions on how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms and divination and how to summon magical entities. But Ouire teaches magic tricks.”

  “See, Mom?” Finn said excitedly as he turned to face me. “That’s what I told you! Vellum was full of tricks!”

  I looked at Andre. “None of which any of us adults could read.”

  Andre nodded. “Because…”

  “We aren’t children?” I finished for him.

  He nodded.

  “Can you see the words and pictures in the book?” Finn asked him.

  “Yes, but that’s only because I’m a magician so I still retain the magic which allows me to see the truth.”

  With the book now settled on his lap like a spoiled cat, Andre leaned back, crossing his ankles under the table so that his long legs didn’t knock into ours.

  “What can you tell us about Ouire?” I asked, wanting to make conversation, so I didn’t have to focus on this ridiculous reaction I was having to him.

  He faced me and a new smile emerged on his face—one that was meant just for me. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did, all the same.

  “The book was handed down through the generations as new magicians learned their craft,” he started to explain. “Ouire’s got a bit of a mind of his own, though, and he wanders off sometimes. I’m not really surprised the old boy ended up in the Hollow. There’s so much magic here, just droves of the stuff. It was bound to attract his attention, eventually.”

  “Is that why you came to Haven Hollow? To find Ouire?” I asked.

  “You could say I was directed here, yes.”

  And then the searching, deep and pointed look he gave me… it felt like he was answering a different question—a much more personal question. I shook the thought out of my mind, though.

  There were still a few other customers in the creamery, and as far as I could tell, none of them were supernatural, so I leaned forward and lowered my voice so as not to be overheard.

  “What are you, exactly?” It was the same question I’d asked him earlier and I hoped he wouldn’t give me the same answer. Maybe it was a little rude to press, but it was driving me nuts. To all my senses, he felt like a mundane, with none of the prickling sensation of a supernatural being. But he clearly used magic, and not small magic like my uncles, one of whom could breathe smoke while the other used magic to locate mushrooms—both were odd gifts, but such was what being a male in a Gypsy Traveller line got you.

  But Andre’s magic was different—he’d caused my potion bottles to freeze midair without touching them, and not only had he made us vanish from a crowd, but he’d also moved us through space and time to the storage room, and I still had no idea how he’d done it.

  I was hoping for a more illuminating answer than just “I’m a magician”.

  “Are you a mundane?” Finn asked.

  The smile dropped off Andre’s face, his expression still friendly, but more serious. “I’m human, but a magician.”

  Frustration nipped at me, but I made sure to keep it out of my tone. “That can’t be possible. Mundane humans can’t do magic. And how can you know so much about Haven Hollow and its supernatural community if you’re only human?”

  The magical half of Haven Hollow guarded itself pretty fiercely. Hollows were one of the only places in the world where supernatural beings could live their lives in relative safety, without having to worry about being found out and hunted, and that didn’t happen if people started randomly gossiping with handsome travelling magicians.

  “Well, I suspect it’s a bit like your own situation.” Andre leaned back in the booth, his shoulders resting against the slick fabric, and his head cocked to one side. “I’m human, but with a little bit extra. Unlike gypsies, though, the manifestation of a magician’s powers are a little bit random. They don’t follow specific bloodlines like your own do. No one in my family has ever had magic. I didn’t even know I had it until I was perhaps seventeen and started dream walking.”

  “You can dream walk?” Finn asked, even though I was fairly sure he didn’t fully understand what that meant.

  But the realization of how and where I knew Andre suddenly hit me like a pillow to the face.

  Getting mauled by a feral vampire had been one of the worst days of my life. My friends had barely managed to get me to the hospital in time before I’d bled out. Even in the ER, I’d felt my pulse faltering, and shadows had started to crowd the edge of my vision, tunneling down until all I could see was the brilliant searing white of the fluorescent lights overhead. There had been a confusing jumble of sounds, beeps and a strange hissing. Doctors and paramedics, all calling things back and forth, but I hadn’t been able to focus on any of it. It had all just been a mess of white noise.

  But there had been a voice that stood apart from the cacophony, a voice urging me to fight, not to give in. To hang on, just a little bit longer. Hovering there, on the brink between life and death and half lost to dreams made of pain and whatever drugs they’d given me, that voice had been my rock, my tether to this side. I’d used the strength in that voice to haul myself back down into my body as if each word were a rung on a ladder, and the urgency in the tone had helped to anchor me to my life.

  A voice with a British accent that had seemed achingly familiar, even though I’d been sure I’d never heard it before. And there had been a vision of a man with black hair and eyes that were hauntingly blue…

  “You,” I breathed, almost too shocked for words as the realization continued to flow through me, unveiling itself like the pages of a book in a flurry of wind. “It was you in the hospital... You were the person I saw in my dreams.”

  “Um, Mom,” Finn started as he looked over at me like I’d completely lost my mind. Which made sense because I hadn’t told him about the voice or the man.

  Andre’s hand paused on Ouire’s cover, his face holding that same intensity I’d seen during the show. “Yes, that was me.”

  “What was you?” Finn asked as he turned his gaze from Andre to me.

  So, I explained everything to him—how I’d heard Andre’s voice, seen him even, and how his words had helped me fight through something that would have otherwise killed me. Finn listened, eyes wide with surprise and sadness.

  Meanwhile, my thoughts continued to whirl. The realization made some things make more sense, and others less. I shook my head, trying to make the pieces fit together, but they wouldn’t. “But, how? Why, even? We don’t know each other.”

  “No, we don’t,” Andre agreed quietly. “But perhaps our souls do?”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but I was saved from having to respond when Finn got up from his seat to round the table. Before anyone knew what he was doing, he flung his arms around Andre, hugging him tightly.

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, voice cracking. “Thank you for saving my mom.”

  Tears threatened the corners of my eyes, but I swallowed them back. That became even tougher when I watched Andre’s arms circle my son’s narrow shoulders as he then gave Finn a comforting pat on the back.

  When Finn pulled away, Andre gave him an understanding smile. “You are beyond welcome…”

  His words trailed off as he caught sight of Finn’s hand, and the inky number one on the back of it. With a small frown, Andre lifted Finn’s hand and rubbed the skin over the mark with his thumb like he was trying to smudge it, but of course, the mark didn’t go anywhere. I could have told him as much. I’d tried washing the mark off with soap and water, but it still wouldn’t come off and I still had no idea why, or why it was even there in the first place, nor how it had gotten there. And Finn was even more clueless.

  A soft little huff of laughter escaped Andre, and he shook his head as he looked from Finn to me. “It seems Ouire was here for more than just sightseeing in the Hollow.”

  I swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Andre started as he looked at Finn and in his eyes there was a definite sense of pride. “Ouire sensed potential here.”

  “Potential?” Finn repeated shakily.

  Andre grinned up at Finn, eyes crinkling merrily. “You could see the writing in the book because the book selected you.”

  “But why? Finn asked.

  “Because you’re a magician, my boy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The words rattled around in my ears, but couldn’t seem to reach my brain. I shook my head, confused. “Wait, what?”

  “Your son is a magician,” Andre repeated. “Or rather, he has the gift, but not the training… yet.”

  Finn? Wielding magic? “That’s not possible,” I said and shook my head. “Finn already has his gifts. He can read people really well, and he knows when someone is lying.” It was a small gift, but it was more than most gypsy men got, and it was a lot more useful, as gypsy gifts went.

  Andre lifted one shoulder in a gentle shrug. “Well, as I said, a magician’s talents tend to crop up rather randomly. They have no bearings on bloodlines. So, it’s entirely possible that Finn, here, can be both a gypsy and a magician.”

  “You really think I’m a magician?” Finn asked, awestruck and completely excited at the prospect.

  Andre nodded and pointed to his hand. “I know so—that number on your hand proves it.”

  “How?” I asked, frog in my throat.

  Andre looked at me and gave me a reassuring smile, one that promised everything was going to be fine and this newest shock wasn’t something to worry about, but something to welcome. “He’s already learned one of Ouire’s tricks—and once a magician masters a trick, that trick is forever immortalized upon the magician’s body.”

  “As a magical tattoo?” I asked.

  Andre nodded. “As magical ink, yes.”

  “I did learn a trick,” Finn exclaimed, cheeks flushed and smile beaming as he looked from Andre to me. “I learned how to do ‘Stacking Hope’. I showed it to my mom.”

  “Well done! That’s a good one,” Andre said, reaching for the cuff of one of his sweater sleeves. “It’s one of my favorites, actually.”

  Andre rolled his sleeve back, revealing his forearm. There were numbers tattooed all over his skin, as dark as ink, just like Finn’s. The numbers were in various fonts and sizes, some darker and others lighter. And there had to have been hundreds of them, disappearing into the fabric of his sweater.

  “Oh, wow.” Finn leaned forward, his hands not quite touching Andre’s arm as he read off some of the numbers. “That’s so cool! Are there really that many tricks to learn? How long did it take you to figure them all out?”

  Finn’s bright, excited chatter just made my stomach sink. I didn’t like this; I didn’t like this at all. I didn’t want my son to end up with numbers magically tattooed onto him every time he learned a new trick, like the magic was branding him. I wasn’t sure I wanted him doing magic at all.

  Yes, I made potions. But this felt different. And while sometimes magic was all wonder and light and hope, it also had a nasty side. Magic could be dark, and lonely, and addictive. It could become a lure, a trap.

  And worst of all, it wasn’t something I could protect Finn against. Oh, sure, I could whip up a banishment potion to get rid of a dangerous poltergeist, or brew up something to grant sweet dreams and banish nightmares. But when Roscoe’s teeth had sunk into my throat, he’d reminded me viciously that in the supernatural world there were the haves, and the have-nots, and I was firmly in the latter category. I didn’t have Wanda’s spell casting, or Roy’s Sasquatch strength, or Lorcan’s vampire near indestructibility. How would I ever keep Finn safe if he started dabbling in powers I didn’t even understand?