Page 28 of Wedded Witch

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Page 28 of Wedded Witch

I blink at him. “Right. A challenge. Because that makes it better.”

Elias chuckles softly, clearly amused by my increasing frustration. “Don’t worry. She’s not in danger – yet. But if you don’t hurry up, you may have more to deal with than just a runaway bride.”

I slam my hand on the steering wheel. “Well, thanks for the vague warning. But how am I supposed to get there? I don’t exactly have a map to Spells Hollow, and last I checked, Google Maps doesn’t cover cursed, hidden towns.”

Elias grins, looking like a smug old professor. “Ah, that’s where the fun begins, my boy. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Care to actually be useful?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says, his form flickering slightly, “you’ll know the way when you get there. Just follow the trail. And do hurry – darkness has a way of getting ahead.”

And just like that, he vanishes, leaving me alone with my annoyance and a newfound sense of dread. The smell still lingers though. Great.

Swyn’s heading toward a town I’ve never heard of, apparently filled with ancient magic and, judging by Elias’s tone,more than a few things that could kill us both. And to top it off, I have no idea how to get there.

Perfect.

I glance at the dashboard. The little glowing check engine light flickers, reminding me how much of a disaster this whole trip has been. I need to get to an airport, figure out where the hell Spells Hollow even is, and then somehow, by some miracle, catch up to her before things get worse.

No pressure.

With a groan, I punch the gas and speed down the road, hoping that somewhere between now and getting on a plane, the universe – or Elias – throws me a bone.

SWYN

I stir my coffee absentmindedly,watching the morning sunlight pour through the diner’s windows. The smell of fresh bacon and pancakes drifts through the air, and for a moment, I almost forget where I am. Almost.

But Spells Hollow isn’t the kind of place you can forget for long.

The dog from last night has been on my mind all morning. That knowing look in his eyes. I’d swear he’s been watching me, following me. I glance out the window, half-expecting to see him sitting there again, staring back at me with that curious gaze. But the street’s empty.

Calm down, Swyn. It’s just a dog.

I try to shake off the weird feeling, refocusing on my plate of bacon and eggs. The diner is quiet this morning, a few scattered regulars drinking their coffee and chatting about the weather. I’m finishing the last bite of bacon when something warm brushes against my leg.

I jump, nearly knocking over my coffee. “What the?—?”

Peeking under the table, I spot him. The dog. The same one. He’s snuck into the diner, crouched there under my table with those big, imploring eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, glancing around to see if anyone else has noticed. But the other patrons are too busy with their conversations.

He just stares up at me, his tail wagging slightly, as if he’s in on some private joke.

I sigh, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Fine. You win.”

I tear off a strip of bacon from my plate and sneak it under the table, slipping it into his waiting mouth. He gulps it down without hesitation, his tail thumping happily against the floor.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know,” I mutter, giving him another piece. “I’m not your personal breakfast buffet.”

He licks his chops and settles down, clearly satisfied with his bacon haul.

I finish my coffee, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the situation is. Here I am, feeding some stray dog under the table like we’re old pals. But there’s something about him that feels different. Almost like he’s watching me. Or watchingoverme, more like it.

With breakfast over, I slide out of the booth and head for the door. The bell jingles as I push it open, and I glance down to see the dog trotting along beside me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” I say, shaking my head as he follows me across the street toward my car. “You can’t just hitch a ride, you know.”

He doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he seems to think this is a done deal. I pop the trunk, toss my bag inside, and turn around to find him sitting by the driver’s side door, staring at me expectantly.




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