Chapter 40 The Thirteenth Starling

A bitter wind whipped through the oak grove, scattering the autumn leaves and chilling the air as the witches walked slowly back to town. Their overwhelming loss was written plainly on all their faces, their expressions haunted and distant as they trudged back to the inn.

But Nate remained.

"She's coming back," he declared. "And she'll be pissed if we've all left."

He settled beneath the ancient tree, his eyes scanning the sky for any sign of the thirteenth starling.

***

As dawn broke on the following day, the Melroses led an army of witches back up to the grove, all of them decked out in birdwatching gear. They combed the area, searching high and low for the elusive starling. But to no avail.

Aphra brought materials to create an enchanted cage, and Nate helped her construct an enclosure beneath the big old oak tree. The idea was to ensure the twelve starlings stayed safe and close . . . just in case the final one returned.

" When the final one returns," Nate reminded her.

"Yes." Aphra nodded solemnly. "When."

Once the work was complete, Aphra gently suggested to Nate that there was no more to be done, no more to be asked of him, and no more to be gained from him living in the grove alone.

But Nate remained.

***

As the days passed, ever-smaller contingents of witches returned to continue the search. One by one, they began to accept that Scarlett had given her life to save their own.

Perhaps we should erect another statue, the witches whispered to one another. A beautiful stone Scarlett in the center of town, right beside her ancestor, Goodwife Melrose.

Kelly Melrose would glare at the women with homicide in her eyes. "My daughter does not require a statue," she'd say. "My daughter will return." And the witches would go quiet.

***

Periodically, Zahir brought food to the grove for his old friend. He'd sit beside Nate, attempting to engage in friendly conversation. Zahir would ask if Nate cared to know the latest news from town, or if he wanted to hear about a particularly zany guest who'd visited the inn, or if he was even slightly curious about what was happening at Williams Hardware in his absence.

And Nate said, "Not really. Thanks anyway."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Zahir always attempted to persuade Nate to join him in Oak Haven for a beer. But Nate remained.

***

Down in Oak Haven, the restoration of magic breathed new life into the town. The glittering colors were back, the scents of pumpkin and woodsmoke were all around, and the streets were adorned with gourds as far as the eye could see. Even the miscreant squirrels with magnificent tails had returned, many sporting jaunty new berets. The Road Work Spell Committee worked diligently to mend the damaged sigils, and their magic permeated the air.

Meanwhile, Spellbound Books stood fully restored. Polly sat in the front window every Wednesday, reading stories to groups of enraptured children. She'd conjure parades of ducks to march around the store, eliciting squeals of delight.

***

As the last autumn leaves clung to the trees, two magicians—one male, one female—sat together in the front window of Hexpresso Yourself. The coffee shop had become the magicians' refuge and makeshift headquarters, where they gathered to study trivia, drink cappuccinos, and (these days) feel very sorry for themselves. Most didn't even have the heart for trivia practice anymore—not since their leader, Maximillian, had disappeared without a trace. They were feeling lost, bitter, and uncertain of their futures. Not an ideal state of mind for memorizing Elton John lyrics.

"We should kill that fucking bird." The male magician's eyes narrowed in frustration. "It's stupid to just keep it hanging around. I'm so sick of listening to it chirping day and night."

His partner shook her head. "Bosses said not to hurt it. They want to run tests, figure out how it works. Maybe we can learn that spell, too."

"Sure, but it's evidence . Keeping it around just proves that we interfered." He took an angry swig of his coffee. "You just know those witches will be here any minute to kick us all out of town. And if they find out we've been keeping that thing—"

"They won't," the lady magician assured him.

"We should get the hell out of here while we can. To tell you the truth, I don't see why we haven't all cleared out already."

She tilted her head sympathetically. "I know, it's been rough. But the bosses say stay put. The bosses say they're working on a plan B, and we should sit tight and await further instructions."

" The bosses say, the bosses say . . ." he muttered. "Who cares what the bosses say."

"Uhh, I'd rather not piss them off. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just . . . The whole situation makes me so mad. Ugh, those goddamned witches."

"You can say that again," she agreed.

"No, you don't understand." He pointed out the window. "Out there. Goddamned witches, right goddamn now ."

A phalanx of witches, led by the determined Priti Chatterjee and her EMS team, were marching down the street toward the coffee shop. Panic erupted among the magicians inside, their eyes wide with fear as they frantically gathered their belongings and fled, desperate to escape before being caught by the powerful coven. The sound of clattering objects and fleeing feet echoed through the shop as they hastily retreated.

The lady magician snatched up her top hat and dashed to a low cupboard in the back of the shop. That cupboard contained a very precious item, which she alone had been entrusted to protect at all costs. She grabbed the item, bundled it with her cape and a few essentials, and sprinted out the back door.

"Wait for me!" her companion shouted after her, but there would be no waiting today, not for him or anyone. She had a solemn responsibility to escape with the evidence, no matter what.

The magician's heart pounded as she sprinted down the cobblestone streets, the sound of witches' cackles echoing behind her. She followed the winding road that led out of town, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When she reached the covered bridge, she felt a glimmer of hope—but halfway across, three more witches materialized at the far side, blocking her escape. The magician skidded to a stop, knowing she was trapped. Desperate to hide the evidence, she tossed her bundle into the river.

The witches closed in, surrounding her.

"I'll never talk," the magician spat out. "You can torture me all you want. But I'll never comply."

Priti laughed, her eyes glinting with amusement. "My goodness, you magicians are intense ! Nobody's torturing anybody! We're going to toss each of you in a portal to a different location. By the time you all figure out how to get home, you'll have forgotten about Oak Haven completely. That's all. We don't want to hurt you; we just want you all gone."

" Whatever . Our bosses won't forget about Oak Haven. You'll see. They'll just send more of us to try again."

"Maybe so," Priti said amiably. "But we'll be ready for you next time."

And with that, the witches dragged the magician away.

Beneath the old bridge, the magician's possessions floated along the sharp rocks. There was a change of clothes, a dog-eared copy of the Farmer's Almanac , a travel backgammon set . . . and a small, gilded cage holding a vibrant starling.

The little bird sang urgently. But as the cage floated in the shadow of the old covered bridge, her trills went unheard.

***

One Sunday, Earls Nine through Twelve marched up to the grove to visit Thirteen. They brought a tent, a few changes of clothes, and materials to build a solar oven. They sat with their heartbroken descendant, hoping to distract him with epic tales of the Great Sea Wolf, Earl of Anglia, Terror of Tortuga. Nate enjoyed the old men's stories, and welcomed their company. But when his beloved ancestors raised the issue of coming home?

Earl Thirteen remained.

***

Most evenings around sunset, Delilah and Luna would head downtown, recreating that stroll they'd taken that very first evening Scarlett had come home. Eventually they'd find themselves on the town green, staring up at the statue of Goodwife Melrose.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on her," Delilah would say every time. "Remember, Luna—I accused Scarlett of running away, just like our ancestors from Salem. But she didn't run, did she?"

Luna would wrap her arm around her sister's and rest her head on her shoulder. "No," she'd say sadly, "she didn't."

***

In his misery, Nate took daily walks to try and clear his head. He'd amble down the hill from the grove and pause beside the babbling river. And he would gaze sadly at the covered bridge. The very bridge where Scarlett once jumped, brave and reckless and as beautiful as anyone he'd ever seen. The very bridge that had been the backdrop of their first and only date.

At the same moment, the starling sat trapped in her golden cage, which had become wedged between two large rocks beneath the bridge. She was surviving on meager rations of beetles and minnows that happened to float past. Not much, but just enough.

The starling could sense when Nate was nearby, and she would sing for him. She'd warble and whistle and trill as loudly as she possibly could.

But all Nate heard was the rushing water and the breeze rustling through the trees.

When he couldn't bear the painful memories a moment longer, he'd turn his back to the bridge and walk in the opposite direction.

***

The first flakes of snow drifted down in mid-November. Luna went up to the grove to visit Nate. She, unlike everyone else in town, never asked him to come home. Instead, she sat cross-legged on the ground, meditating for hours until she'd conjured for him a tiny but lovely one-room house.

***

Thanksgiving arrived, and all the Mrs. Earls marched up the hill to beg their son/grandson/great-grandson/and-so-on to come home. Just for one day. For a family Thanksgiving. Please.

But Nate remained.

Zahir made him a plate and brought it up to the grove. The men sat on the stoop of Nate's little house and watched the sun set in silence.

***

Time marched on, and winter arrived in earnest. Nate chopped firewood and scanned the sky, his beard growing ever longer.

He noticed that the starlings seemed to require almost no water and very little food. They just carried on somehow. He hoped this was meaningful. He hoped they were waiting for Scarlett, too.

Under the bridge, the starling shivered in her little frozen prison. But although her voice was growing weak, she continued to sing.

***

Oak Haven was transformed into a winter wonderland. Buildings were adorned with enchanted icicles; they glowed in warm neon hues, as though the Northern Lights had settled permanently over the town. The street lamps sang Christmas carols whenever prompted, and the snow that blanketed the streets was always perfectly white.

Delilah trekked up the hill on snowshoes, bringing supplies to Nate in the middle of a fierce winter storm. She didn't bother asking if he'd be willing to come home.

***

Before too long, spring arrived. Under the bridge, the starling's cage thawed but still would not release her.

Meanwhile Nate tended to his daily chores around the grove, a sharp cry pierced the air. A young fox pup had become entangled in the brambles near the river's edge, its tiny paw caught in some thorny vines. Nate rushed to the pup's aid, carefully untangling the frightened creature from its prickly prison. In his haste, Nate scratched his hand on the brambles, which left bloody marks across his skin.

"Ow, dammit!" he muttered. But then he looked into the pup's eyes and had to smile. "Sorry, it's okay—don't be scared. Hey, are you somebody's girlfriend, by any chance? My girlfriend is a bird. You haven't seen her, have you?"

The pup made no reply.

Despite the pain and the steady trickle of blood, Nate gently cleaned the little fox's wound and released it, smiling as it bounded away to join its family. He wrapped his own hand with a strip of cloth torn from his shirt and returned to watching the sky.

***

Summer came, and Nate fished in the nearby river, cooking his catch over a fire. On clear evenings, the Melrose family would join him at the grove, sitting around the fire and sharing stories about Scarlett under the stars. When morning came, they packed up to leave. But Nate remained.

***

Autumn returned to Oak Haven, and with it the glittering leaves and colorful gourds and pumpkin spice scent in the air.

One morning, Dayo and Zahir pulled up outside the abandoned building that once housed Hexpresso Yourself. Dayo's truck was packed tight with kitchen appliances and crates of barware. Dayo went inside, opening windows to air out the musty space, while Zahir affixed a sign to the front door.

COMING SOON TO THIS LOCATION

OAK HAVEN'S FIRST brEW PUB:

DOUBLE, DOUBLE BOIL AND TROUBLE

The two friends and new co-owners spent the day cleaning and moving appliances around. They were packing up to go home when Dayo noticed one final cupboard in a dark corner of the empty shop.

"Hang on, we haven't seen what's inside that cabinet over there. Maybe the magicians left us a pile of spare magic wands, that'd be fun."

Grinning, Zahir knelt down beside the cupboard. "Or how about some of those gold coins they're always pulling out of people's ears." A small knob on the cupboard door refused to turn. "It's locked . . . somehow . . . I don't actually see how, but . . ."

Dayo rolled her eyes. "Magicians and their goddamned enchanted locks." She grabbed a hammer and smashed the knob.

The door swung open. Inside lay a half-full bag of birdseed.

"Well," Dayo said, " that's disappointing."

"Birdseed?!" Zahir poked at the bag. "What did they need birdseed for?"

"Somebody's gotta feed all those doves they conjure out of their top hats."

"Okay, but why bother enchanting the cabinet? Why go to that much trouble?"

"Dunno," Dayo shrugged. "Special, magical birdseed?"

"Huh. I mean . . . maybe?" Zahir frowned. That didn't feel like the right explanation. But he couldn't think of a better one.

***

At the grove, the oak trees turned spectacular colors—everyone in town said it was the best leaf-peeping season they'd ever seen. But as a weary and lonely Nate tended to his chores, the spectacular autumn display meant nothing to him. Over the past year, he'd trained his mind to remain blank; he'd run out of thoughts that weren't painful.

Today especially. Because today was the first anniversary of Scarlett's great sacrifice. A Murmuration of Scarletts, she had playfully called it. But to Nate, it was the Beginning of the End.

He took his daily stroll as always, walking down the hill to the river and staring mournfully at the bridge. And as always, he turned away, to walk in the opposite direction.

But today, something stopped him. Perhaps it was the anniversary. Or perhaps Nate was sick of letting that bridge loom over his life like some epic wooden monster. Whatever the reason, today he did something that had been unthinkable for the past 364 days.

Today he walked toward the bridge.

As he approached, a high-pitched trill pierced the air, the all-too-familiar sound of a starling's call. Nate didn't even register the noise. After all, he spent every day listening to the caged starlings that lived outside his cabin, and he spent every night listening to the missing starling in his dreams.

The trill sounded again, louder and more insistent, demanding his attention. A flicker of annoyance crossed Nate's face. He glanced around, looking for the source of the noise. A glint of something metallic caught his eye.

Nate's breath caught in his chest. There, nestled between two large rocks, sat a tiny golden cage. Inside was a vibrant starling—bedraggled and starved but alive.

"Scarlett . . . is that you?"

The bird tweeted impatiently.

He scrambled across the rocky bank, stumbling in his haste. Reaching into the water, he grasped the cage and lifted it out. The starling hopped up and down, chirping at her rescuer.

"How did you get here?" Nate murmured in wonder. He undid the latch to free the little bird, cradling her gently in his strong hands.

The starling let out a triumphant trill, her little body quivering with exhaustion and relief.

As if under a spell himself, Nate carried the bird back up the hill to the grove. There sat the far larger cage, where the twelve starlings had waited for so very long. He opened the cage, and the birds burst out. The thirteenth starling fluttered from Nate's hand to join them in mid-air. The birds all took to the clouds, forming a mesmerizing star-shaped twister that spun faster and faster until thirteen had become one, and Scarlett's body tumbled from the sky.

Nate raced to her side as she lay in the grass, dazed but unharmed.

"Hey." She reached up and tugged his beard. "I thought you weren't waiting for me."

He chuckled, blinking back tears. "I was just about to give up, actually. I hate tardiness."

"Sorry," Scarlett grinned, "I got held up."

Their lips met in a long-awaited kiss, the grove's ancient trees the sole witnesses to their reunion.

As Nate and Scarlett's kiss lingered, the world around them seemed to fade away. He cupped Scarlett's face in his hands, as if to reassure himself that she was truly there, flesh and blood. Tears of happiness rose in his eyes, mirroring the glistening droplets streaking down Scarlett's face.

She reached up and stroked his chin. "You grew a beard."

"Yeah, kind of by accident. Do you like it?"

"Not at all." She laughed and so did he, and they held each other tightly, afraid to let go—afraid the moment might shatter into a cruel dream.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the grove, Nate and Scarlett finally disentangled themselves from each other's embrace. He took her hand and helped her to her feet.

"C'mon," he said gently. "Your family's been waiting for you. Actually, the whole town has been waiting. Oh—uh, although . . . maybe not San Francisco? San Francisco might not have waited for you. Your mother told me that your job sent your final paycheck to the inn. And I think you might've gotten evicted from your apartment."

Scarlett just laughed. "Yeah, spending a year trapped in the form of a bird is not a great career builder in Silicon Valley. Makes no difference to me." She threw her arms around him. "Everything I want is right here."

Nate took her hand to lead her down the hill. "Let's go see everyone."

But Scarlett stopped him. "What are you, nuts?" She flicked her head in the direction of Nate's quaint little cottage. "Is there a bed in there?"

"Well yeah, but . . . your mom, your sisters . . .?"

"They waited this long; they can wait one more day. But we can't . C'mon, Earl Thirteen, let's do this."

Nate's laughter, deep and genuine, echoed through the grove. He scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold.