Page 129 of Magical Mission
“I just…” I shook my head. “My magic feels so dangerous at times. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, and worse yet, I don’t even know that I’m doing it.”
I thought back to sending the one-finger salute to my ex, turning him into a dog, and now bringing a shimmer into the Academy.
“You will get there,” Nova assured me. “It’s not your fault. You're learning and absorbing things so quickly that there’s bound to be mix-ups.”
I didn’t know if she meant it as comfort or a warning.
Maybe it was both.
But as I looked at the three women around me, each powerful in their own right, each ready to protect what mattered, and I felt something settle inside me.
Not relief.
But resolve.
The door creaked open with dramatic flair, and no knock was made whatsoever.
Twobble entered.
He stood in the doorway like he’d caught us plotting something, which, to be fair, we were. He clutched a clipboard in one hand, a half-eaten biscuit in the other, and looked entirely unimpressed.
“Let me guess,” he said, eyes narrowing. “You’re either taking over the goblin tunnels or making a different, really questionable decision.”
“Come in,” I said dryly. “And it’s the second one. According to you.”
He marched in, muttering under his breath, and climbed onto the too-tall bench with exaggerated effort. His feet didn’t reach the floor, but he crossed his arms anyway and polished off his food.
“Fantastic. I love being included in dangerous nonsense after it’s halfway done.”
Stella handed him a second biscuit without a word. He took it, sniffed it suspiciously, and bit into it like a goblin reluctantly accepting his fate.
“I assume this has to do with your daughter,” he said through a mouthful of crumbs.
“She’s coming for a quick visit.”
He stared at me, blinking once. “Absolutely not.”
“Twobble—”
“Denied. Declined. Rejected. Return to sender.”
Nova raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know the plan yet.”
“Oh, I know enough,” Twobble said, pointing the biscuit at me like a wand. “You’re going to smother the cottage in protective spells, swear she’ll be fine, and then next thing you know, a gargoyle explodes and we’re summoning tree spirits to calm down a traumatized teenager.”
“That only happened once,” Stella said mildly.
I eyed Stella. “Gargoyles can explode?”
“It takes a lot,” Stella assured me.
Twobble wiggled his finger. “Once is too many times.”
I sighed. “Twobble, we’re being careful. We’ll use every Ward we have. She’ll stay in the cottage and we’ll reveal no magic. Just watch movies, rest, and enjoy a cup of tea. Maybe take a walk if the weather’s nice.”
He huffed, crossing his arms tightly. “Look, I get it. You miss her. You want normal. You want to braid your old life and your new one into something you can live inside without fraying. But this place?” He pointed to the floor. “It isn’t normal. And we haven’t rooted out the danger yet. Bringing her here is like planting daisies in a fire circle.”
“She’s not coming to the Academy,” I said. “Just the cottage. With shielding. With Karvey and the other gargoyles watching the perimeter.”
