Page 94 of Magical Melee
I stretched out my legs, feeling exhaustion drip through me like a leaking faucet.
“I appreciate the support,” I said, my voice softening slightly. “I do. But can we at least acknowledge how insane this all is? I mean, two weeks ago, my biggest worry was whether or not I’d be able to extend my short-term rental because I was so indecisive.”
“And yet, you’re no longer indecisive,” Stella pointed out with a wink. “You knew you wanted to come to Stonewick.”
“In all fairness, that was before all the craziness.”
Nova’s brows raised in surprise. “Was it, though? You had a glimpse of what was to come.”
“Hardly.” I chuckled. “But fine. You’re right. I welcomed Stonewick’s invitation. I finally felt at home.”
“Do you still feel that way?” Keegan asked softly.
“More than ever.”
“Good.” He nodded and glanced at the others.
“Why do I feel like you’re not telling me everything?”
Stella chuckled. “Because we’re not.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The fire’s glow had softened to embers, but its warmth still clung to the room. I sat curled up on the couch with a pile of ancient books and papers strewn around me like the world’s most disorganized library. I’d been reading all night, losing myself in the swirling script of old tomes that Twobble had gleefully dumped in my lap with a cheery, “These should be a light read.”
The thing was… I stayed up all night completely engrossed when I knew very well that I should be exhausted and sleeping soundly under the covers while a vamp, elf, goblin, some gargoyles, and a warlock guarded the cottage.
But I just couldn’t.
There was a shift happening.
If I hadn’t tumbled into Stonewick, I might have thought it was a little perimenopause dumping its symptoms on me.
But now I knew that wasn’t happening, and I was just turning into a witch.
No biggie.
A person turned into one, right?
Like a werewolf?
I could blame the sudden hot flashes on being around Keegan, my memory problems on being scared to death by an evil Warlock, and my inability to sleep on the idea of a new life. Not perimenopause or whatever it was my primary care doctor gleefully chatted about a few weeks ago.
No, I liked the idea of this kind ofbig changemuch better.
I was going to be a witch.
As the first light of dawn crept through the windows, I blinked and stretched, feeling the familiar stiffness of having sat in one position for far too long.
Okay, so that might be age-related, but I glanced at the clock to confirm that it really had been hours.
I didn’t feel tired. Not even a little. It was like some unseen current of energy was coursing through me keeping me alert while I absorbed everything I could from these books.
From the kitchen, the soothing sound of humming drifted in.
Stella was busy baking. The scent of cinnamon and freshly kneaded dough coursed through me like a reassuring blanket.
Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of voices, but this time, I wasn’t scared to death of anything lurking beyond the walls.
