Closing time at Knox’s Pawnshop—normally a routine matter of Herbert Knox securing that day’s profits and locking the entrance to his establishment—differed this particular evening in two respects. The new clerk, Nigel, ended his first day by sweeping the floor. And a growling, man-shaped beast began his first night as a werewolf
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That blasted bookworm is at it again.
I can hear his little munch munch munch all the way from the other side of the library. My mentor, Wizard Owyn, has told me countless times to ignore it while I am in his library. But I can’t help it—the wretched grub is eating the
Lightning slashes the sky. “Walfort, take us back to land!” I yell into the storm. “We’ll look for Bessie another day.”
“Don’t be a wimp, Gwynfar. We told Zofan we would eliminate this sea serpent,” Walfort shouts. “I’m here because I’m a wand master and you’re a mediocre wizard. I’m not even sure you’re
I run to the cabin, desperate to warn Zofan about our impending calamity. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen “wizard” as my occupation. I burst inside and nearly collide with my mentor. He stops me with a scowl and folded arms.
“Gwynfar, look outside. Tell me what you see.”
I peek out the window
I look like a peacock in a lion’s den. My gaudy green robes swish across the smooth marble as I eye the four armored guards escorting us. We enter the throne room. I step behind Zofan, my mentor and fellow wizard, and twiddle my fingers.
The guards clomp to either side of King Roganvel’s
We have eyes on the fish. Repeat, we have eyes on the fish.” Haddie Underwood whispered into her wand. Her dark sunglasses tempered the fierce sun, and—mercy—she was sweating something awful underneath her black trench coat.
But today she was a spy and had to dress the part.
“Firstly,
“Ohmigod, there’s a tarantula in your grapes!” My chair legs screeched back from the table, and I dropped the grape I had just plucked from the fruit bowl.
“That’s just Ernie. Don’t worry; he won’t bite.” Granny glanced over from her spot at the stove where she’d been churning a bubbling concoction for
No more dead corn.
Thank goodness for that. I’d checked every ear, terrified that whatever pestilence had killed my crop last year would return again. The corn was my pride and joy, by far my best crop. I sighed. My work dress already clung with sweat from the day’s heat.
If Brandy heard one more person tell her what a good wife she would be, she was going to drown a sailor.
She heaved a deep breath as she twisted her silver locket around her fingers and walked down the dark cobblestone streets. It was a paltry trinket, certainly not a token of love, though it had been given to her by the man she loved.
Lorraine banged on the witch’s front door until her fists hurt, crying and calling her name. It finally flew open, and Jessamine jerked her inside.
“You have to give me more!” Lorraine sobbed. “It’s wearing off!”
“Child, I told you, love spells are temporary. You can’t bend the heart forever, and you can’t stop true love.”
I clenched the fistful of grass while trying to ignore how my hands now appeared. My feet ached as I trudged up the desolate path, but a worse anguish lodged in my heart, threatening to overflow.
A few places in the kingdom might offer me refuge, yet here I was, heading to the one place I’d never be welcome.
Stolen again.
I’d recovered the jeweled pendant three times before, yet somehow the masked bandit always got ahold of it again. I got the call just before sundown and strode into the vault with beams of sunlight shining across the mahogany surfaces of the lobby behind me.
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