“So we wait?” I asked, trying to keep the whiny note out of my voice. I detest whining, except when it gets Wulfric to bring me tea. I have standards.

  “No. We ask Brendan some questions, and then we ask a friend for help,” she said.

  “Luna?” I looked up involuntarily, but the moon wasn’t visible. Not yet.

  “For this question, we will ask the earth. I have an idea that this problem will be solved somewhere other than the skies,” Gran said, and I knew she was right.

  I’d never seen a flying mushroom, but the day was young.

  Chapter Eleven: Librarian, Medium Rare

  Brendan watched us arrive with the look of a kid who’s being sent to detention. Gran waved delicately, then wandered off to look at the newest books, leaving me strategically placed in front of Brendan and the front desk. There were few patrons, but it was still early, and the library would get busy later on. We arrived at the perfect time for some awkward conversation, and I intended to make the most of it.

  “Gran’s letting me off the hook?” Brendan asked, his face a mix of dread and relief.

  “Not a chance, handsome. She’s listening and will doubtless swoop in if I don’t get some answers,” I said. My smile was sweet enough to give him diabetes.

  “Did you find evidence of magic, uh, stuff? At my house?” he asked.

  “Not really. But I found something here, and it’s anything but magical. Quite ordinary, in fact, which leads me to ask you who your lady friend was the other night. You know, the snack run? I’m sure you recall,” I said, ever helpful.

  He tugged at his collar in a gesture that made him seem guilty of every crime ever committed in the history of the world, then settled on answering the question. “Makenna asked me to run out for something, which is kind of why I had to send you the letter in the first place.”

  “Makenna?” I asked. I already disliked her. If she went by Mac, I might turn her into a frog. I have my reasons, and the fact that they stem from an incident in seventh grade is completely irrelevant.

  “Yeah. Makenna. We met online.”

  “Of course you did. Where’s she from?” I asked. Better to let him tell me the gruesome details at his own pace. I already knew the ending was going to be weird.

  “Um. . .Long Island? I think? She was kind of vague about exactly what town, but her accent fit. She said she was coming up for the weekend, and wanted a local guide to show her around,” he said.

  I waved a hand at the expanse of Halfway. “Around here? Our town? That takes about ten minutes, unless she was into hiking or fishing?” It was too early to ski, so that ruled out the possibility of Makenna being a snow bunny.

  “I told her that, but, you know.” He looked down, a flush creeping up his neck.

  “She was really hot?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He blew out a breath, lifting his eyes to the hammered tin ceiling. “She vanished while I was in the shower, haven’t heard from her since. Ghosted me.”

  “I figured.” I put my hand on his, giving it a squeeze. “So, she came up here to visit our town, hooked up with you, vanished, and now you have a creeping feeling that something isn’t right?”

  “Pretty much. Can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there, at the back of my head,” he admitted.

  “Your instincts are correct, dear,” Gran said. She approached while we were chatting, and now stood at the edge of the desk, head tilted to regard Brendan with a piercing gaze. It wasn’t unkind, but it had a weight to it. “Before we discuss what she may have done, tell me about this girl.” She touched his arm, nodding, then encouraged him to go on with a brilliant smile.

  So he did. He spoke for all of thirty seconds before running out of things to say, and it dawned on him that he had allowed a complete stranger into his home. The look on his face was unpleasant, and I didn’t envy him the moments of introspection that were sure to follow once Gran got done grilling him.

  I spilled the beans before he could keep squirming, and Gran’s smile told me she approved. “She took the photographic plates. From the spring.”

  Brendan looked stricken. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Did you feel anything when you were around her? Anything magical?”

  He shook his head after a moment, then repeated the gesture with emphasis. “No, but now that I think about it, it seemed like she was acting.”

  “Acting about what?” Gran asked.

  “Everything. Liking me, but also Halfway and even things like the pizza over at The Pines. We went for dinner, and she seemed charmed by the place, but now I’m not so sure,” Brendan said. His voice trailed off with the uncertainty of his own memory.

  “Then she’s a thief, and a liar, and probably magical although we don’t know in what way,” I said.

  “Magical? But I told you I didn’t sense anything,” Brendan protested.

  “You also didn’t know she was going to ditch you when you showered. Gran, what do you think?” I asked.

  She looked at her hand, using a kind of sight that regular humans would never know. It was the hand she used to touch Brendan’s arm a moment earlier. “There’s a definite echo which tells me she’s a sorceress at the very least, possibly a shaman. She’s no witch, that’s for certain. This is old magic, but decaying.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I turned to Brendan, my smile meant to be disarming. I didn’t want him freaking out and thinking he’d contracted a magical plague. “You’ve got the touch of magic on you, and it’s old. Really old. Since we checked out your house and the library, we know it’s not from working around something that harbors a spell. It’s from recent contact, and that means Makenna, or whatever her real name is. The girl who came to town, lied to you, and stole the only evidence of a place so evil that I hoped no one would ever find it again.”

  He swallowed nervously, his green eyes bright with worry. “I’m sorry, Carly, Gran. I didn’t know.”

  “You couldn’t have known, dear.” Gran took his hand and smiled, a wealth of care in that simple act. “She made a mistake, like many bad things often do. Two mistakes, actually.”

  “She stole from the library?” he asked.

  “Civic concerns aside, no, although I’ll have a word with her about that when we finally meet—and we will,” Gran said.

  “She hurt you and she left behind evidence. Magical evidence,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Gran turned her winning gaze on Brendan, preparing for a grandparent-level dose of guilt. I could see it coming from a mile away, so I stepped back to let her work. “How would you like to make up for this little foible?”

  “Anything, Gran. Just ask,” Brendan said. He meant it.

  “Wonderful. Tonight, my yard. Near the ash tree when the moon is high. We’re going to do a little needlework,” Gran said.

  “Um. Not a fan of needles,” Brendan said.

  Her smile was pure mischief. “You won’t mind this one, dear. It’s made of light.”

  Chapter Twelve: Stitchcraft

  The ash tree was bare, its branches reaching skyward like hungry fingers. Throughout October, each tree would reach an agreement with the sun, giving up the last leaves to autumn as they began their long winter’s sleep. Gran sat on the cool grass, Brendan in between us and looking more than a little bewildered at the hum of power that emanated in the air.

  Magic, like gravity, had a pull all its own.

  “Gran, um. . .a question?” Brendan asked. His voice was tight with nerves despite having known my family since he was a kid. I could understand why. Being near both McEwan women in the throes of a spell could be a touch unnerving. I was rattled, and it was my magic, but that’s the nature of pure magic. It demands respect even from those who would use it, and woe betide anyone who thinks otherwise.

  “Go ahead,” she said. A serene smile lit her face in the moonlight. She wore a red barn jacket and jeans, but her feet were bare, the skin milk white against Luna’s kiss.

  “What are we doing?” Brendan asked. His confusion was charming, given the innocence of it all. It was a good thing to ask, even if he might not understand the answer.

  Gran reached into a soft cloth, unfolding the deep blue weave with reverence. “Sometimes, witches can detect things no matter where they are, in this plane or any other. For that sort of problem, we turn to the lady above,” she said, lifting her eyes up to the sky.

  “But this is not that kind of problem?” Brendan asked.

  I answered while Gran busied herself with the spell, a patient smile on her lips. “Not quite. I don’t think Makenna was fully human, or at the very least, she wasn’t doing the work of a human.”

  “Enchanted?” he asked.

  “Maybe. She might just be mean, but I doubt it. Gran is going to negotiate between two worlds in order to find someone who might be moving through a different plane. Where the moon alone would create a magical compass, this spell is much more direct. The answer will be revealed, if she is anywhere that our magic can reach her,” I said.

  Gran sighed, and I knew it was time. “Ready?” I asked her.

  In answer, she opened the blue cloth to reveal. . .. nothing. Pinching her fingers together, she picked up something that was either invisible or not there, but the suggestion was so powerful I began to see a haze form between her fingertips. Brendan could see it, too, judging by his sharp intake of breath,

  “Now, for the thread,” Gran said, dipping her hand upward into the sky. A thread of golden light caught between her fingers, winding itself through a needle that hadn’t been real a moment earlier. From the air, she pulled a string, long and bright and pure.

  “I can’t believe this,” Brendan whispered, but he did. We all did.

  “Carlie, if you would?” Gran asked, holding the needle out to my waiting hand. I stood, taking it with certainty and beginning a slow walk around Brendan, my hand moving up and down like it was outside a car window while we drove down the road. The thread settled around Brendan in layers and levels, weaving back upon itself like a curious serpent, flickering light casting shadows across our smiling faces.

  It was the heart of magic, woven before us in a delicate cage that rose and fell with my revolutions, finally ending when Gran waved and the thread parted with a gentle pop.

  “It’s done,” she said. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, but her smile was incandescent, just like the moon.

  “How long will we—” Brendan began, but Gran raised a finger to silence him.

  “She’s here,” I said. I could feel it. She was close, if not inside the magical lines around Halfway that dictate just how far our protection extends.

  “She didn’t leave?” Brendan asked. He seemed even more hurt that she ignored him while being in his neighborhood. Even for me, it felt dismissive, and I liked this Makenna character even less.

  “No. She’s in Halfway, and she’s—there’s something wrong,” I said, unsure how to put the creeping sensation into words.

  “I feel it too,” Gran said, eyes narrowed as she looked into the night. “There’s something wild about her, and that makes her dangerous.” A sigh trickled from her chest at the thought of a rogue threat loose in Halfway.

  “Something wild,” I felt myself mutter. “Be a good time to have a something wild of our own, if only to find her.” My smile took Brendan by surprise, and before he could ask, I told him the idea that flared into my mind, bright and clear. “Anna is wild, but Alex is crafty. Let’s see how our visitor likes being on the bad side of a cat.”

  “You mean like everyone who has a cat?” Brendan asked. He didn’t have a cat, but he’d seen Gus judge me and everyone else in the room with his bronze gaze.

  “You are correct, but the difference here is that Alex tends to listen. He understands we don’t ask for help unless it’s needed,” I said.

  “Um, Gran?” Brendan asked. He tugged at his shirt in a series of twitches.

  “Yes, it is,” she said. Her face was serenity itself, and I felt Brendan calm down.

  “Ok. Sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to wearing an invisible magical cloak, or whatever it is that just happened,” he said.

  “It’s dissipating. I wanted an answer, and we have it. The spell is fading as we speak, and you’ll be free of any hint of the Everafter in a matter of minutes,” Gran said.

  “Not that I was worried, but, you know.” Brendan shrugged, unsure how to avoid giving offense. Magic was weird for most of the world, and his reaction was only natural.

  “Not to worry. Our next concern is far greater than something like this trifle,” Gran said airily. Her casual reaction to powerful magic was beautiful. It was my life goal summed up in a sentence.

  “Finding this person, this threat?” I asked.

  “Among other things. There are ripples from whatever is happening in our town, and we don’t know how far they’ve spread. We need to look farther, thinking back to when you found the first fungal being. They’re not here by invitation or accident. They’re a creation; a side effect of something larger and darker.”

  I stood, holding a hand to Gran. “I’ll get started at dawn. Brendan, can you keep your eyes open too?”

  “Open?” He laughed, but it was tight. “I don’t know if they’ll ever close again.”

  “Get some sleep, dear,” Gran told him with a calming hand on his shoulder. “You never know when your visitor might return.”

  Chapter Thirteen: Cat’s Pause

  Alex didn’t walk up to me.

  He appeared.

  It was a trick of his I’d seen before, but it never ceased to amaze me how someone could ease into a room without being noticed. He didn’t use magic, just his own natural ability to slide between spaces without catching the eye.

  “Hi,” he said. He was smiling a little, his dark eyes mere crescents in the bright morning light.

  I sipped my coffee and let him stew for a moment. I think he enjoyed scaring me, despite the fact that I could turn him into a toad. “Hi. Stop scaring me.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He grinned but was oddly still.

  “What are you watching?” I knew his body language. It was cat, not human. He was on alert.

  His eyes flicked around then came back to me. “Dunno. Funny tracks out near Pigeon Brook. Smells are off, animals are geeked. Have you spoken to the wee folk?”

  “Not recently, but I could. Why?”

  “I think being shifted is keeping the forest quiet, and maybe you need the fae in order to get any useful information,” he said.

  He was tense, and it was more than just something out in the woods. “Alex, what is it?”

  He took a long moment before answering. “I’m not a dog, and I’m not your pet.”

  “What?” It was the best I could manage, given my shock. “Dog?”

  “You know what I mean. You don’t like Anna, so you look to me as some kind of bloodhound when you need help. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends, Alex. I admit there was tension between me and your sister, but it’s gone,” I said. After my own moment, I changed my statement, because Alex deserved the truth. “Okay, maybe not gone, but we’re getting better. She had Wulfric. Now she has his daughter. I can’t pretend that doesn’t matter, but as to you? I care about you and what happens to your family. How is that treating you like a dog?”

  “Why do you only call on me when there’s trouble?” he asked, and I had no answer. “That’s what I thought.”

  “That’s not fair. You’re—well, you just appeared here. Did I summon you, like a dog?”

  “No, but I knew you would need my help,” he said. It was sulky, which was unlike him.

  “Why did you come?” I asked.

  “I knew your magic would tell you something was off, or wrong. Whatever.” He stared at the ground, avoiding my eyes.

  “Alex, I can’t do what you do. Are you aware of that?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  I drew a breath through my nose, thinking of how to proceed. Alex was a true friend, and I didn’t want to alienate him by losing my temper. “Do you know what happens to me when I have to kill something?”

  His head snapped up, eyes fixed on me. “Maybe.”

  “You’ve seen it, but you don’t know what happens afterward,” I said.

  He sighed, eyes closing and opening as he considered that. “I guess not.”

  “I come home, and my cat looks at me like I’m an alien, but inside, I feel like a killer, because that’s what I am. Sometimes, before Wulfric, I would take a shower and cry, no matter what monster I had to wipe out. I would have blood on me, or bits of bone in my hair, or even worse. I would smell like a grave, and sometimes, it takes three days before I feel okay.” I took his hand, looking up at him so he understood. “I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want credit. I do this because it’s what the McEwan women are meant for. We serve. We kill. We cast spells and throw ourselves into the needs of this town and we do it because it’s the right thing to do.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Do you? Because you seem to think I look at you like a glorified tracker. I would do anything to only see you for coffee, or waffles, or even just to walk in the woods and talk about all the secrets you keep because of who you are.”

  “I don’t keep—”

  “Yes, you do. Everything about you is the opposite of Anna. She lives out loud, and you live in the shadows. I’m sorry to say this, but I need you here, in the light. Halfway needs you, and not just sometimes. I can’t be here all the time. Gran can’t either, and someday, she won’t be.”

  “Don’t say that,” he protested, but it was weak.