Page 99 of Truly Madly Magically

“Then maybe we shouldn’t—”

Before Georgie can even finish the sentence, Frost and Rebekah are gone. No doubt they’ve magicked themselves inside, and it’s not like they can’t take care of themselves. But four is still better than two when there are potentially lethal shenanigans afoot, or so I tell myself. I shrug at Georgie and she sighs, taking my hand so we can follow them in.

We land in the library. Frost stands next to a little cage that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. Even as I think that, something about it tugs at me, and I can’t help thinking it should mean something to me.

“Did any of you touch the weasel?” Frost asks.

“Is that a euphemism?” I ask Rebekah, loud enough to make Georgie laugh.

Frost only gazes back at me with the excessive mildness that reminds me he really was the first, best Praeceptor in witch history. He has that vibe. That, yes sir, thank you, I’ll just sit down and be quiet thing.

“Skip,” he says, and it jogs something in my brain. It sweeps out the cobwebs that I didn’t realize were gathered around that name. Skip.

Skip Simon, Carol’s nasty creep of a black magic–loving son, who she makes sure we all keep forgetting.

“Oh,” I say. “That weasel.” I can suddenly recall broadcasting that weasel’s antics to all and sundry at the last trial. Carol’s memory magic at work. I scowl.

“The weasel is gone.”

Frost’s expression goes dark then, and this is not a teacher thing. This is the kind of dark that makes me understand why witch armies followed him into battle thousands of years ago.

“Maybe he chewed through his cage or something,” Georgie offers, with more hope than certainty.

Frost shakes his head. “The Joywood are the only ones who could skirt the protections I keep on this house, not to mention the wards in this library, without alerting me.” He looks around in that same dark manner. “This bodes ill.”

I swallow at my suddenly dry throat. Frost doesn’t come out and say what ill he means, but I think we can all draw our own conclusions here. Skip bartered in black magic. With blood. He broke every last good witching rule.

If the Joywood have taken him, they must have a reason, and we know it’s not because Carol suddenly cares about the son she made everyone forget last spring. I can’t be the only one who thinks this is the Joywood getting their black magic on.

None of us say it out loud.

“Let’s fly back to Wilde House,” Rebekah suggests after a moment. “Warn Emerson and everyone.”

Frost nods. “Georgie, collect the books we were to use today. The three of you fly back, and I will—”

“No one goes it alone. Not even you.” Rebekah says this briskly. “Ellowyn and Georgie will take the books back. I’ll stay with you and cleanse the house. Add protections.”

He looks as if he might argue, but he doesn’t. He holds Rebekah’s gaze for a long moment, then turns and sweeps off into the bowels of his library, leaving the impression of a witch’s cloak and the like when I know perfectly well the man is wearing jeans and a Henley.

It might not seem like it, Rebekah says in my head. But this is a violation. I think he needs a few minutes alone.

I nod, turning to Georgie, who’s already whispering spells to send a stack of books back to Wilde House.

“Be safe,” we all murmur at each other with a little more urgency than the standard witch farewell usually contains.

Georgie and I link hands again, whisper a protection spell for both of us as we travel, then fly.

A beautiful Missouri fall stretches out below us. A riot of colors, bright and happy, as if they don’t represent the coming winter, the year’s inevitable death reaching up from the ground to the sky. I shiver a little, fighting off a feeling of foreboding as we land in the living room of Wilde House.

It’s just us for now. Zander is with Emerson at the bookstore, and Jacob is with his family, deep in preparations for the Summoner blood ritual. With the Undine supposedly protecting us, we all figured it would be okay for Jacob to handle his Healer duties without a partner in tow, but now I wonder.

But Jacob’s familiar is with him, I reason. His family is made of strong Healers, like him. He’ll be okay.

I try to believe it.

Georgie immediately sinks into the books she’s magicked over, flipping them open on the table where they landed in tidy stacks. “Sage has been helping with research,” she says somewhat absently as she turns a few pages in one book, then another, with a spell. “He found an interesting translated bit about a crow army, like your ghost and the fairy tale mentioned. It’s a line we’re tugging on.”

I know I shouldn’t say anything about Georgie’s boyfriend. She hasn’t asked. I’ve never enjoyed having people comment on my romantic life unsolicited. I bite my tongue and sink into a chair at the table, cracking open a book myself.

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