Page 14 of Impawssible Magic

I paste on my best professional smile. “Thank you. Is there anything specific I can help you find today?”

“Actually, yes.” She turns to face me fully. “I heard you specialize in custom protection work. Charms, wards, that sort of thing.”

“I do. Though I should warn you, my current turnaround time is about two weeks. Apparently everyone in Mistvale wants protection.”

“Don’t they always?” Her smile doesn’t waver. “I’d love to place a commission order. Nothing too elaborate—just a small piece for my front door. To keep out... unwanted visitors.”

The irony isn’t lost on me.

“I can definitely help with that. What do you have in mind?”

We spend the next twenty minutes discussing specifications. She wants subtle—nothing that screams “magical protection” to anyone passing by. Effective but elegant. I quote her a price; she doesn’t blink.

“Perfect.” She pulls out a slim leather wallet and hands me a deposit. “Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

I write up a receipt, jot down her contact information. She has an address in Lakeside—the nice residential area along Stillwater Lake. A neighborhood where families settle, where people put down roots.

She lingers by the door, examining a display of tumbled stones I set up near the entrance. Her fingers trail over them with casual interest, but her attention seems focused elsewhere. On me, maybe. Watching for a reaction I’m not giving her.

“I love what you’ve done with the space.” Her voice is warm, conversational. “It feels very... personal. Like you put a piece of yourself into every corner.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Must have taken a lot of work. Starting over, I mean. From scratch.” She picks up a piece of tiger’s eye, holds it to the light. “Especially alone.”

The word lands with precision. Alone.

“I manage.” I keep my voice neutral, pleasant. Professional. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“One more thing.” She sets down the tiger’s eye and meets my gaze. That warm smile still firmly in place. “I heard you came from the Thornwick Coven. In the valley, yes?”

Every nerve in my body goes tight.

I haven’t mentioned my old coven to anyone. Haven’t even thought the name in months. How does this stranger, this welcoming committee member I’ve never met, know where I came from?

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” She waves a hand vaguely. “Witch networks, like I said. Information has a way of finding those who need it.”

She’s gone before I can respond, the door swinging shut behind her, the bell chiming cheerfully like nothing is wrong.

I stand frozen behind my counter, blood rushing in my ears, every instinct screaming.

I grab my phone and pull up the photos from this morning. The symbol on my floor. The rearranged crystals. The careful, precise arrangement that felt like a message.

My hands are shaking again. I clench them into fists and force myself to breathe.

But the timing. The way she mentioned it so casually, right before leaving. The flicker of coldness behind her smile that didn’t match her words.

I spend the rest of the afternoon jumping at every sound. The protection charm sits half-finished on my workbench, mocking me with its incompleteness.

When six o’clock rolls around and no more customers have appeared, I flip the sign to Closed with profound relief.

I grab my jacket and head for the door again.

The sparrow is positioned precisely in the center of my welcome mat.

Small. Brown. Utterly ordinary, except for the angle of its neck—twisted sharply to the left, clearly broken, not a mark on it otherwise. Its eyes are closed, its feathers unruffled. Peaceful, almost, if you didn’t know what it meant.