“How do you know all this?”I asked.
Owen hesitated, then reached across the table and closed his hand around mine.His fingers were warm, solid, anchoring.
“Because my dad was helping her,” he said.“They met at the shop.A lot.Behind closed doors.At first, I thought they were having an affair—”
I almost choked.Alice and Mr.McAllister having an affair was so absurd my brain refused to picture it.
“—but it wasn’t that,” Owen continued.“It was this.The tree.The ley lines.The gate.She needed help.He’s… he knows things.Old things.He said Crossroads work attracts the wrong attention.The kind that doesn’t stay buried.”
“Well that sounds ominous.”I didn’t like it at all.
He nodded agreement.“He was the one who told me about the demon, about how the wards worked, about what could happen if they failed.”
Cold prickles raced over my skin.“Like demons showing up at the flower shop asking where Alice is.”
“Exactly.”He squeezed my hand gently.“You said you thought she was murdered.”
I nodded.
“I think so, too, Piper.And I think my dad might know why.”
I drew in a slow breath, the restaurant noise fading to a dull roar in my ears.Murder.Magic.Portals.Demons.Fairies.Hickory Hollow wasn’t weird.It was… connected.To what, I still didn’t know.But I could feel it now—a hum under my skin, like standing too close to a live wire.
“I think,” I said carefully, “we need to go see your dad.”
Owen nodded, eyes steady on mine.“He’ll have more answers than I do.We can go after lunch.”
I looked down at my untouched enchiladas.My appetite had fled somewhere between demon and portal.I slid the plate away.
“Good,” I said.“Because I’m done pretending this is normal.”
Chapter Five
Ihadthewaitressbox up my untouched enchiladas.My stomach still sloshed with margarita and nerves, the two combining into a lovely cocktail of acid and oh-no-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into.
Black smoke.A demon.A fairy in the greenhouse.At this rate, a talking llama would barely make the top five weirdest things that had happened this week.
I hadn’t seen Dougal McAllister in years.I knew him—everyone in Hickory Hollow knew the man who ran the antique store across from Enchanted Blossoms.Owen’s dad.Walking reminder that the past never stayed in the past around here.
As we drove back toward town, I stared through the bug-splattered windshield, my thoughts whirling faster than the passing trees.
“Mac is your dad,” I blurted, breaking the silence.
Owen’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel.“Yeah.He is.”
“When you introduced yourself, you said your name was Mac.”
“So, I took his name.”He was quiet for a beat.“Honestly?When I saw you on the side of the road, I panicked.I didn’t know if you’d remember me, or if you did, what you’d think.Dad’s been ‘Mac’ my whole life—it just came out.And then I wanted to see if you’d figure it out.”
It shouldn’t matter.It did anyway.
“In my aunt’s letter, she said you liked me.Do you?”The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
Owen’s head snapped toward me, surprise written all over his annoyingly handsome face.Okay, maybe the tequila had been a mistake.
“Are you drunk?”he asked.
I flushed and stared hard at the road.“No.Answer the question, McAllister.”
