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Esme nodded solemnly. “Tomorrow. And, apparently on October 31st, 1912.”
“And we’re sure there’s a Nexus in Mysthaven?” Willow questioned, just to cover all the bases.
“Here,” Esme said. “There’s another entry a few days later.
‘This land was protected by the sisterhood for many years until it was taken from them and turned into a place of ill repute.’
That would be the Moonstone Saloon, I imagine. She goes on to say,
‘I have been honored with a great task, and I will do it to be fully inducted. I will do anything to please the sisterhood.’”
Willow snorted. “She was trying to fit in. Talk aboutMean Girlswitchy edition.”
“’We are coming upon our sacred holiday and if we fail to take back our land of old, we will perish.’
Obviously, they didn’t perish. But they didn’t accomplish what they wanted.”
Montgomery smoothed down his mustache with his thumb and middle finger. “Why do they need to own it, though? The diary says they’d been coming here before anything was built on it. They didn’t own it then.”
“No, but there are laws in the magical world. Claiming ownership of land and building a permanent structure gives the title bearer absolute, exclusionary rights. Anyone can visit, and even benefit from the energy of a magical place. But only the owner is truly able to wield any power of significance. So that tells me they not only want to charge their magic, they want to use the power of the Nexus to do something big and terrible.”
Willow’s stomach dropped. “Terrible like what?”
“All currents run from the Nexus. If I were to speculate, whatever they have in mind, it will be detrimental to any other beings living along the ley lines.”
“Why would they do that?” Montgomery cried. “Don’t they have enough power? Why hurt innocent people?”
“Malice probably. Revenge. And you have to understand that it’s not natural for a witch to live as long as they have. Their morals have gotten a little twisty over time.”
Montgomery nodded knowingly. “Like Gollum.”
“He finished theLord of the Ringsbooks,” Willow said to Esme, resisting an eye roll. “Noweverythingis the hero’s journey with him.”
“Well then,” said Esme. “We should form a fellowship, shouldn’t we? There are five of them and only four of us—unless you’ll join us, Montgomery.”
Montgomery raised a brow in surprise and looked from Esme to Willow and back again. “But… I’m not magical.”
And Esme laughed, shaking her head at him like one does to a child. “My dear man,” she said. “Everything you’re made of is magic.”
It was a nice day as Wednesdays go. Not a cloud in the sky. Crisp, autumn air with a slight breeze that catches your hair in short, refreshing gusts. The laughter of children in the distance excitedly preparing to go out trick-or-treating.
Montgomery had heard the phrase ‘it’s a good day to die.’ He couldn’t remember where he heard it, but he thought it was completely ridiculous. It’s never a good day to die. And if he was to die today for the second time, he’d be pretty bent out of shape about it.
However, he did accept the possibility he might meet his mortality once more against the same coven that did him in last time. If you did the math, the odds were high.
He put on a brave facade for Willow, though. Math wasn’t his strong suit anyway.
Esme, Bliss, and Ivy arrived before breakfast and, since he was expecting them, changed out of his striped pajamas early, so as not to be caught indecent like the day before.
When he walked into the front of the shop, they were all drinking tea with Willow.
“Hello, mister,” Bliss said amiably. “How’s the mustache?”
“It’s fine,” said Willow. “Stop trying to convince him to let you glamour it up.”
Truth be told, Montgomery wouldn’t have minded a little help keeping his mustache in place. But Willow liked when it got all messed up. She told him as much last night.
“My mustache and I are ready,” he said. Though exactly what they were ready for, he was not sure. He’d probably never be ready to fight evil witches, even with good witches at his side.
