Page 3 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

Seamus nods, kneeling to address my familiar directly. “Aye, little one. Without my gold, my connection to the fae realm weakens. In a week, I’ll be as magical as any human.”

“And you came to Bella because...?” Hecate prompts, her tail swishing.

“Because she’s the smartest, most talented witch I know.” He looks up at me, sincerity shining in his eyes. “And because the note was addressed to both of us, which means whoever took my gold knows about our history.”

I cross my arms, ignoring the flutter in my stomach at his compliment. “I still don’t see how this is my problem.”

“It might become your problem.” He stands, pulling the note from his pocket again. “The thief knows about us, knows we were together. What if they’re targeting you next?”

“I can take care of myself.” I snatch the note from his hand, rereading it. The ink continues to shift and change, never settling into a fixed pattern. “This is powerful magic. Old magic.”

“That’s what I thought too.” Seamus moves closer, his scent washing over me. “Please, Bella. I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking for your help.”

I study his face, searching for any sign of deception. His eyes are clear, his expression open. Whatever else Seamus might be, he’s never been a good liar.

“I’ll think about it,” I say finally. “That’s all I can promise right now.”

Relief washes over his features. “Thank you. That’s more than I deserve.”

“Yes, it is.” I hand the note back to him. “Now, your five minutes are up. I need to close the shop.”

He nods, backing toward the door. “I’m staying at the Moonlit Inn if you decide to help. Room 7.”

“Of course you are,” I mutter. The Moonlit Inn is run by Etienne and Crystal St. John, a vampire couple who’ve been together for centuries. They’re hopeless romantics who probably put Seamus in room 7 on purpose—it was our anniversary date, the 7th of March.

After Seamus leaves, I lock the door and flip the sign to “Closed.” Hecate materializes on the counter, having disappeared during the last part of our conversation.

“You’re going to help him,” she states matter-of-factly.

“I said I’d think about it.”

“Which means you’re going to help him.” She stretches lazily. “You never could resist a magical mystery. Or those green eyes.”

“His eyes have nothing to do with it.” I begin counting the register, focusing intently on the task.

“Sure, sure.” Hecate yawns dramatically. “I’m going to take a nap in the window seat. Wake me when you’re ready to admit I’m right.”

As she curls up in her favorite spot, I finish closing procedures, my mind racing. Seamus is right that whoever stole his gold possesses powerful magic. The kind of magic that could be a threat to everyone in Evershift Haven, not just him.

I’m wiping down the counter one last time when something catches my eye—a corner of parchment peeking out from beneath the espresso machine. I pull it out carefully, recognizing the same shifting ink from Seamus’s note.

“Hecate,” I call, my voice tense. “Come look at this.”

She materializes beside me, suddenly alert. “Another note?”

“Seems like it.” I unfold the parchment, reading aloud. “‘Where stories are whispered and secrets are kept, find what you left before you wept.’”

“That’s... cryptic.” Hecate’s nose twitches. “And it smells like the first note. Same magic.”

I turn the paper over, but there’s nothing on the back. “How did this get here? It wasn’t here earlier.”

“Magic, obviously.” Hecate rolls her eyes. “The question is, what does it mean?”

I read the clue again, the words tugging at my memory. “‘Where stories are whispered and secrets are kept...’ That could be the library at the Moonlit Inn. They have that special section of books that whisper their contents to readers.”

“And the ‘what you left before you wept’ part?” Hecate asks.

A memory surfaces—Seamus and I in the library, arguing in hushed tones. Me storming out, tears threatening to fall. The book I’d been reading, abandoned on a table.

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