Page 7 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle

“The new sun witch?”

“Are they together?”

The whispers reach my sensitive ears easily. I keep my expression neutral, though my wings twitch with the desire to unfurl and shield me from view.

“Almost there,” says Talia encouragingly. Her scarf has shifted to a calming blue, perhaps in response to my discomfort, but it does nothing to soothe me.

Chapter 3—Talia

I STAND IN FRONT OFGrizelda’s Enchanted Emporium, my hand frozen mid-knock as I read the handwritten sign taped to the door.

“Closed for prenatal yoga with Atlas. Back tomorrow. For magical emergencies, please consult the talking toad in the garden.”

I turn to Dorian, who looms behind me like a particularly handsome statue. “Prenatal yoga? That’s new.”

“Atlas has been teaching special classes for Grizelda since her second trimester.” Dorian shifts the glowing egg in his hands. “She claims it helps with the baby’s magical development.”

“Let’s check Fae Fitness then. Maybe we can catch them after class.”

We walk through town toward Atlas’s gym, our eggs humming softly in sync. The streets of Evershift Haven bustle with mid-morning activity, including a group of pixies decorating lampposts with spring garlands, a Lycan delivering packages from his bicycle, and two elderly witches arguing over the proper way to enchant garden gnomes.

“So,” I say, breaking our comfortable silence, “Five hundred thirty-eight years old, huh? You must have some stories.”

Dorian’s golden eyes flick toward me. “A few.”

“Just a few? Come on. You’ve lived through, what, five centuries? That’s a lot of history.”

“Five hundred thirty-eight years of standing very still and watching things change around me.”

I laugh. “That can’t be all you did. What’s the most interesting thing you’ve seen?”

He considers this for a moment, his pace slowing. “I once watched a sapling grow into a mighty oak, then back into a sapling, then into a rosebush, then into a very confused squirrel.”

“Wait, what? How does that even happen?”

“Time witch having a nervous breakdown. The 1700s were strange.”

We reach Fae Fitness, a stone building with large windows and a sign featuring a troll lifting weights made of glowing crystals. I peer through the glass, scanning the interior. Several supernatural beings stretch on mats. A pair of dryads bend impossibly far backward, a vampire does one-handed pushups, and a mermaid in a special hovering water bubble is doing core exercises.

“I don’t see Grizelda or Atlas.” I press my face closer to the window. “Maybe they finished early?” As I step back, my egg begins humming louder, its glow intensifying. Dorian’s does the same. “That’s odd.” I hold up my egg, watching as the light pulses in rhythm with Dorian’s. “They’re really humming again.”

Dorian frowns, his stony features becoming even more angular. “They’re reacting to something.”

I turn in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint what might be triggering the eggs. My gaze lands on the town square across the street, where a large statue of the town’s founder stands proudly. “Let’s check over there,” I say, already moving toward the square.

The town square of Evershift Haven is a charming space with cobblestone paths, enchanted benches that adjust to the perfect sitting height for each visitor, and flowerbeds that bloom year-round. The bronze statue of Elara Evershift, the witch whofounded the town and created its protective barrier, stands at its center.

As we approach the statue, our eggs hum more insistently, brightening to an almost blinding intensity. “They’re definitely reacting to something here,” I say, circling the statue’s base.

Dorian kneels, running his free hand along the stone pedestal. “There’s something here.” He reaches under the statue’s base and pulls out another egg, identical to the ones we already carry. This new egg begins to hum the moment it’s in Dorian’s grasp, creating a three-part harmony with our original eggs.

“Another one?” I take it from him, examining it closely. “This is getting weird.”

“Weird is an understatement.” He stands, brushing dirt from his knees. “Someone is deliberately placing these eggs for us to find.”

“But why? And who would know that both of us would be looking for them together?”

Dorian’s expression darkens. “I don’t know, but I don’t like being manipulated.”

---