Page 89 of Waltzing With Witches

“The gazebo is tired,” Morgan says quietly, reaching up with both hands to stroke my forearm. “She could really use a break, and Town Hall would love to take over for a while.”

The gazebo groans around us, her ceiling beams shimmying in agreement with Morgan.

Another surprise. The gazebo has never really spoken with me.

“Let’s get this over with,” I whisper into her lips. “I missed you all day.”

“Me too,” she whispers back, nipping gently at my lower lip with her blunt teeth. “But Hana and I visited every building on Main, and there was nothing amiss. We fixed a couple issues, but I never got that same sense again.”

“Good.” My eyes flick to Town Hall, her doors flung wide for the Evertons. “She looks happy,” I muse.

Morgan lets out a wry chuckle. “Oh, I had to convince her that hanging streamers from the front windows was not appropriate today, but next time is probably okay.”

“I didn’t know she had streamers,” I mutter.

One of Morgan’s dark brows rises as she gives me a look that screams, “Duh!”

Hand in hand, we stroll to Town Hall. When we arrive in the auditorium, I’m surprised at how lovely the room looks—dust free and organized. There are plenty of extra chairs and even three rows of the long resting benches the centaurs prefer.

Morgan pinches my side gently. “You want me up front with you, or are you and Arkan okay tackling this yourselves?”

“Come with me,” I say without even thinking. “I want you with me.”

Pink tinges her cheeks, her smile huge. “Let’s go,” she says, pulling me toward the front of the room. Arkan and Hana stand there with the rest of the protector team. Every smile is strained, every expression resolute or downright anxious.

I squeeze Morgan’s hand tighter as we join the group.

The meeting passes in a blur as I explain what happened to Leighton and where to go for his celebration of life ceremony tonight. Arkan and I answer questions, but the Evertons are most curious about how Morgan felt the thrall in the first place.

She answers each question thoughtfully, Hana pitching in with occasional points about black magic in general. I don’t share what we learned from Vikand; that information’s probably not for public consumption.

Arkan raises his voice, his deep baritone booming around the room. “To recap, we’re asking you to be cautious. We’ll shut the businesses down before dark, and the protector team is doing double patrols.”

“Including Hana and me,” Morgan shouts over the din. “We won’t stop until we figure this out!”

There’s a moment of silence as she steps slightly in front of the rest of us. “Everyone is scared, I know that. I can feel it in the air and the tension in our buildings and homes. But we will protect this place until our last breath; you have our word. Now, please, if you’ll head across to the movie theater parking lot, the celebration of Leighton’s life is happening there.”

For a moment, no one moves. Despite the obvious tension in the room, everyone is focused on Morgan. Some monsters are clearly in awe, others worried. A few seem purely determined.

She’s giving them hope that, despite Wesley’s power, we have a chance.

She’s giving me hope.

The crowd begins to dissipate, leaving Town Hall for the celebration across the street.

The protector team gathers around. Arkan gestures for his father to share what we learned earlier. Hana listens in silence, but Morgan gasps and sputters her way through the explanation.

Lou rounds her nieces to wrap an arm protectively around Morgan. Her mahogany gaze is fierce, as if she can keep the danger at bay simply with her will to protect.

When Vikand finishes sharing, Morgan turns a curious gaze on him. “If this is Wesley’s doing, why not send an army of thralls? Why send only one? And to chase that thread a little further, if he’s only powerful enough to do this spell with one monster, what good is that, really? He might kill another person or two, but he surely couldn’t take over Ever like that.”

Vikand slowly nods, crossing his big arms over his chest. “I have been considering this angle myself, and I have two theories. The first is that the thrall at Higher Grounds was simply a test, as Higher Grounds is always heavily busy. The second is that he wasn’t necessarily trying to kill Leighton, but perhaps tack on some other spell that didn’t work.”

“Like what?” Arkan barks, looking incredulous.

“I don’t know,” his father admits. “Why was the thrall underground? That indicates a reason he wasn’t left out in the open. There are many unanswered questions. It pains me to say so, but nothing else in my book suggests what spells could be combined with this one.”

“It’s a problem for tomorrow,” Lou says gently. “Let’s sleep on it and reconvene in the morning. Maybe our dreams will bring us useful ideas.”

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