Page 15 of Witch's Promise

Gabe snorted. "Yeah, well, let's hope that doesn't become our standard recruitment method. So, things are good there? You guys don't need me to come back or anything?"

"Gabriel Reed, don't you dare," Lucas's voice took on a stern tone that was only half-joking. "We are fine. The world is not ending. You are going to go to Salem, hug your parents, eat some cake, and actually relax for once in your goddamn life. Got it?"

Gabe sighed, but there was a warmth in his chest at his friend's concern. "Yes, mom. I promise to be a good boy and enjoy my vacation."

"That's what I like to hear," Lucas said, his tone softening. "But seriously, man. How are you feeling about all this? Excited to see the fam?"

"I don't know," he admitted finally. "I mean, yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing them. It's been too long. But it's also... I don't know. Weird? Like I'm stepping back into a life that doesn't quite fit anymore."

Lucas hummed sympathetically. "I get that. It's hard, straddling two worlds like you do. But Gabe, they're your family. They love you, even if they don't know everything about your life. Just try to be present, you know? Enjoy the time with them."

Gabe nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, man. For everything."

"Anytime," Lucas said warmly. "That's what friends are for. Now, go forth and party. But not too hard. I expect you back here in one piece, ready to save the world again."

Gabe laughed. "Yes, sir. I'll try not to let the excitement of my dad's birthday bash overwhelm me."

They chatted for a bit longer, Lucas filling him in on some of the more mundane goings-on at the Shadowguards HQ. It was nice, Gabe realized, to talk about something other than impending magical disasters or life-or-death missions. By the time they hung up, the knot in Gabe's chest had loosened considerably.

Gabe crossed the town line into Salem, a wave of nostalgia hit him like a punch to the gut. The familiar streets and buildings seemed to welcome him back, each corner holding a memory he'd almost forgotten. Without consciously deciding to, he found himself steering his car towards the old part of town, muscle memory guiding him to a place he hadn't visited in years.

The Enchanted Dough, his favorite donut shop from high school, stood exactly where he remembered it. The faded blue awning fluttered in the summer breeze, and the neon "Open” sign buzzed cheerfully in the window. Gabe couldn't help but smile as he pulled into a parking spot across the street. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

The bell above the door chimed as Gabe stepped inside, and he was immediately enveloped in the warm, sweet scent of fresh donuts. It was like being transported back in time – the same checkered floor, the same worn counter, even the same ancient cash register that looked like it belonged in a museum.

"Well, I'll be damned," a familiar voice croaked from behind the counter. "If it isn't little Gabe Reed, all grown up."

Gabe's head snapped up, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Mr. and Mr. Elseworth. The old couple looked exactly as he remembered them – Mr. Jonathan with his silver hair and twinkling blue eyes, Mr. Thomas with his impressive mustache and perpetual smirk. It was almost eerie, how unchanged they were. But then again, Fae didn't age like humans did.

"Mr. J, Mr. T," Gabe grinned, warmth spreading through his chest. "How the hell are you two still running this place? I thought for sure you'd have retired to some magical realm by now."

Mr. Thomas chuckled, the sound like rustling leaves. "And leave all this behind? Not a chance, boy. Besides, someone's got to keep feeding the sweet tooths of Salem."

As Gabe approached the counter, he couldn't help but marvel at the two Fae. He'd never known which court they belonged to and he'd never asked. In Salem, where the supernatural and the mundane lived side by side (even if most humans were blissfully unaware), such distinctions hardly mattered. What mattered was how they treated people, and the Elseworths had always been nothing but kind.

"It's good to see you, son," Mr. Jonathan said, reaching across the counter to clasp Gabe's hand. His skin was cool to the touch, with a slight shimmer that human eyes would miss. "You've been gone too long. Manhattan treating you well?"

Gabe blinked in surprise. "How did you-"

"Oh, we hear things," Mr. Thomas said with a wink. "The wind whispers, the trees talk. You know how it is."

Gabe shook his head, chuckling. He should have known better than to be surprised. The Fae had their ways of keeping tabs on things, especially on those they considered under their protection. And apparently, even after all these years, Gabe still fell into that category.

"Manhattan's... intense," Gabe said, choosing his words carefully. How do you explain to your childhood donut shop owners that you spend your days fighting supernatural threats and saving the world? "Never a dull moment, that's for sure."

Mr. Jonathan's eyes twinkled knowingly. "I bet. You always did have a knack for finding trouble, Gabriel. Or perhaps trouble had a knack for finding you."

"Speaking of trouble," Mr. Thomas said, his mustache twitching, "what brings you back to our humble little town? Not that we're not delighted to see you, mind."

"My dad's birthday," Gabe explained, leaning against the counter. "Thought I'd surprise them."

"Ah, Damian," Mr. Jonathan nodded. "Good man. Terrible taste in ties, but a good man nonetheless. I'm sure he'll be over the moon to see you."

"Yeah, well, I figure I can't show up empty-handed. How about two boxes of your finest? For old times' sake."

The Elseworths beamed, moving with surprising speed for beings who looked old enough to remember the Revolutionary War. As they bustled about, filling boxes with an assortmentof donuts that made Gabe's mouth water, he found himself relaxing for the first time since he'd left New York.

"You know," Mr. Thomas said as he carefully arranged a chocolate-frosted masterpiece in the box, "your young man was in here just the other day. Seemed a bit down in the dumps, if you ask me."

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