Page 45 of Mochas and Minotaurs

“Cozy,” he said, shining the flashlight around the place. “Dark, though.”

“Yeah, I wish I had more light.” I spotted an old lamp in the corner. “I wonder if they hooked this place up to the electricity?” I walked over, dusted off the lamp, found the cord, and followed it visually to where it was still plugged into the wall. But when I tried to turn it on, nothing happened.

“We can drag an extension cord down here. I think I saw one on the shelf in the basement.”

In a few minutes, we got the old lamp plugged in. To our surprise, the bulb didn’t blow. It wasn’t very bright either, but it was good enough.

“Look at that.” Marcus pointed at a window near the ceiling that had been cemented over. “That was above ground.”

“I think this was her living space.”

“Weareraised a bit higher than the building across the street; they must’ve just filled it in and built on top to cut costs like Evyenia said.”

“Or there’s something in here her son didn’t want us to find,” I said.

“Great, now I’m creeped out again. Bad guys I can fight. Magic? I can’t fight that.”

“I don’t think it’s malicious,” I said. “Since that wall came down, I haven’t felt anything but warmth and welcome from this place.” I continued cleaning, wiping down the end table the lamp was sitting on to show the original wood grain. It was beautiful. “It’s kind of sad that this place has been hidden away for so long. Forgotten. Things have feelings. It’s not the same way we feel, but they do. I have a connection with them, and the things in this place? They were well-loved once. I want to make sure they are loved again.”

As I said those last words, it almost felt like the light got brighter, and everything in the room lit up.

“Then let’s clean this place up,” Marcus said. “We still have to find what it is those pesky wizards want.”

The thought of Arcane getting their hands on any of this made me angry. “Whatever it is, they ain’t getting it.”

Because from that moment on, all of this was mine. I closed my eyes, letting my magic filter out through my body to touch the wooden end table. From there it spread, diffusing through everything as it had done with the rest of my home. Energy from the room came back to me too, and all of it felt warm and perfect. Happy.

Marcus found some paper towels and rags in the basement and brought them down along with a bucket of warm, soapy water and a mop. Together we cleaned the long-forgotten room until Triscuit’s loudly proclaimed “Triscuit wanna biscuit!” rang out repeatedly from my phone.

“That’s the alert for me to feed him. If it’s going off, it means his dinner is already late.” I usually turned it off before it rang while I made his food.

“I’ll do it,” Marcus said. “Will you be okay here alone? I don’t feel anything dangerous.”

“I don’t either now that the wall is gone. I’ll be fine.” I held a gorgeous hand-carved bowl I’d just wiped clean to my chest. “So many treasures. Evyenia’s eyes would bug out.”

I should probably give her a call and let her know what we found. Despite all the looking and cleaning, we still hadn’t found whatever we were supposed to be looking for. Something here had caught the wizards’ attention. What could it be? Was it the space itself? It did feel magical, but not any more than other witches’ homes.

“I’ll heat up some food for us too,” Marcus said.

“Are you sure? I’m eating all your food.”

“I made enough for both of us.” The light from the lamp highlighted the bovine slope of his nose, but it was his genuine smile that had the butterflies starting in my belly. “And I like feeding you. I’ll have my phone on me, so just call or text if you need me to bring down anything.”

He left, leaving the basement open to the stairwell.

I was wiping the shelf clean so I could put down the bowl when a feminine voice behind me said, “Finally! I thought he’d never leave.”

I gasped and whipped around, but there was no one there.

“Over here.”

I let myself be called to the vanity, and my eyes landed on a small compact. It was one of those old, ornate ones that women used to get refilled with pressed powder before makeup became a disposable industry. I reached for it instantly, picked it up, and opened it. The powder in the pan looked cracked and smelled stale. I wiped the mirror off with my thumb.

“Hello?” I didn’t know what prompted me to talk to my reflection.

“Hello,” it parroted back, its mouth moving even though I hadn’t spoken. “I’m so glad someone finally found me. It’s been dreadfully lonely down here. I can’t go very far, and I’ve read every single book I could reach.”

Was I talking to a ghost? Through a mirror? I was a little creeped out. But what good would freaking out do? I forced myself to remain calm and talk to my reflection.

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