Chapter 9

Every thudding stepof my boots down the leftmost path through the corn created a beat to the chant currently overwhelming my thoughts: Selfish, selfish, selfish. That's what Choice B really was, the path of selfishness.

Some small part of me knew that your odds of survival were better when you looked out solely for you and yours. And while these people were my friends, or at least friendly acquaintances, they weren't mine. I hadn't adopted them into my life as thoroughly as they had me in theirs. And nothing was testing my duty and love for my family more than every moment I spent with these few folks of Redbud. They knew me for me, not for my name or my power or for what my family could offer them. For me.

And I hated that I couldn't tell them the truth.

Eyes burning, I wasn't too surprised that the path terminated at the center platform much sooner than expected. I knew then Jakob Tabrass clearly thought the same way: the road of selfish pursuit was the quickest way to your goal. Though, perhaps to your own destruction as well.

But I didn't have time for introspection. The sons of Codrin Alder were already on the platform, panting and looking relieved, though there was another emotion written across the youngest's expression that I couldn't quite identify. Hastily, I shrank into the gloom of the stalks, throwing masking sand like confetti above my head.

"Cutting it a bit close, weren't you?" The warlock's raspy voice grated like sand over gravel. "Well, congratulations all the same." He thrust out his cane, and I shoved the selenite monocle to my eye.

The shadow!

I saw it as clear as if were right in front of me, except it wasn't inside the ruby. It occupied the space above the cane, as tall as a man yet with an elongated spine that it curled into a hunch, arms and legs tucked in close. Like the semi-fetal position of a sleeping creature. Its feet, or where its feet would have been, were blurred, the shadow tethered to the ruby.

Yanking the monocle from my eye, I confirmed that yes, indeed, Sawyer had been right about the selenite revealing hidden truths, for the shadowman could not be seen without the aid of the crystal. And I hadn't had to risk my own safety to confirm it. There'd been no way of knowing what would happen if I used the selenite on the spell book, if by simply looking at the shadow parasite inside would somehow activate it and thus use up the last of the containment spell. That I would then have to spend weeks re-layering. This night was a win. In one regard.

"Quickly now," Jakob snapped, thrusting out his cane once more. I sucked in a breath at the same time the eldest Alder clamped his hand around the ruby topper.

The shadow snapped awake, manifesting into the physical world between one blink and the next, shoving its hand right into the man's chest.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, but my startled cry was nothing compared to the shout released by the youngest Alder, his two unaffected brothers grabbing him by the arms and keeping him still. The eldest, back arched and face pained, just as Aunt Hyacinth and Cousin Otter's had been, stared as a glowing red orb appeared in the heart of the shadow creature and traveled down its rippling arm and into his chest.

Whereas the parasite in my grimoire had stolen my family's green magic, this shadow creature was donating its own?

No sooner had the red orb disappeared into the man's body did he release the ruby cane topper, or rather, the warlock tore it from his grasp. Now his middle brothers abandoned the youngest to rush forward and support him, catching him before he could sag onto his knees.

"Seems you boys have your work quite literally cut out for your tomorrow at the Trials," Jakob Tabrass sneered, trotting down the steps and into the corn maze. "Don't disappoint your papa."

By some fateful mercy, Team Fruit Bat appeared from a path on the far side of the platform, the garden gnome already shouting her disappointment at the Alder brothers. I heard the warlock hiss a curse, and then I melted into the corn after him.

The warlock was fast, faster than Arthur, and moved through a hidden path in the corn. I followed as closely as I dared, sprinkling masking sand like a madwoman, but soon the trail was lost to me.

No. No!Crouching down, I let the faintest light from the green magic at my fingertips illuminate the ground in front of me, searching for a footprint that wasn't mine. There!

Pressing my glowing hand to the imprint of his pointy shoe, I hastily whispered,

"Soft as feathers and a firefly's light,

follow the steps of the walker this night."

The warlock's footprints glowed with the faintest green light on the ground, winking out as I passed over them, leading me on the hidden trail after him. This was Dad's magic, a spell he had devised to track specific footprints, not the prey itself, which meant the warlock had no idea he was being followed.

As such, he'd made no double-backs, and his footprints lead boldly out of the maze and across a vacant patch of lawn to a blue-and-black wagon. Remaining crouched behind a thick screen of stalks, I examined the wagon after releasing the spell, the glowing footprints dissolving into the gloom. It was part of a ring of wagons, less garish than the others but not such a contrast that it drew attention to itself.

It was nondescript, and when I looked down at my carnival map, it didn't exist.

An extra wagon hiding in plain sight.

When it didn't rumble away, nor the warlock emerge and leave again, I finally let myself think.

I'd done what I'd come here to do—test the efficacy of the selenite crystal. It worked, which meant it would work on revealing the parasite bound to my family's grimoire. I could go home right now and start devising the traps and spells I'd need to contain and destroy the curse after I ejected it. But…

But watching Jakob's shadowman donate that glowing red orb of magic to Codrin Alder's son…

From the way the men had reacted, that was the expected, if abhorrent, outcome. Which meant they knew something about that shadowman. But it also meant the Alders had made a deal with a warlock. Codrin Alder was one of the pillars of the community, his rancher family engrained in Redbud for generations, so whatever this deal was between them was obviously affecting the town in some way.

Thistle thorns, I actually had spirited away a cursed grimoire to a cursed town, the local superstition aside!

Then my heart ceased to beat. What if it affected Arthur tomorrow?

The shifter was practically a shoe-in to win the Lumberjack Trials, not just defeat Bensen's sweet but doughy-around-the-middle son. And he was good, solid in his morals while mine seemed to lean more into the gray nowadays. I didn't care that just moments ago I'd been ready to hurl him into the corn. Arthur did not deserve the fate of whatever was going to happen in the winner's circle tomorrow.

My thoughts scrambled like leaves before a coming storm as the sound of people approached. I was well hidden in the corn, covered in the remnants of masking sand, so they wouldn't sense me. But maybe this was exactly the opportunity I needed. I could use this cluster of passersby to mask my emergence from the corn, sneak over to the wagon, and—

"All I'm saying is you have long legs," Flora blustered. "How could you lose her?"

"She doesn't have a flag," Daphne said, concern lacing her voice. She peered into the cornstalks as if she had X-ray vision, but she walked right past me. They all did, including the lumberjack shifter who was apparently bearing the entire responsibility of me running off. "If she's lost—"

"She can grow a vine and wave it around all silly like one of those inflatable tube men you see at used car lots. But she shouldn't have to." Shari sent Arthur a foul look.

"Maybe she just came out a different exit," Charlie suggested. "And doesn't she have a phone?"

"I've been texting her," Arthur replied. "They haven't even been flagged as read."

That would be because it was turned off. While I'd acted like a floozy at the crystal emporium, I most certainly wasn't one of those horror movie bimbos who ran around half naked with her phone ringing and giving away her position to the killer.

"What did you say to her?" Flora demanded.

"Listen," Arthur began, voice strained like his patience with the semi-feral garden gnome, "I—"

I slunk out of the corn as they strode around a bend in the maze, blending in with a family headed in the opposite direction, the parents too preoccupied to notice anything beyond cleaning the cotton candy and powdered sugar of their children's faces, and melted into the shadow of the wagon. The hatch on the side was bolted shut from the outside, so no one would be suddenly opening it from within to discover me.

There was no time to waste. Not with a shifter nearby and no more masking sand to use. Pressing my glowing fingertip to the nearest wagon wheel, I traced the locator rune my mother had taught me, just in case the wagon moved during the night. It was like magical GPS, except it would only last for as long as I fueled it. It would be a constant drain on my power, but a very minimal one. The rune would remain invisible to anyone not looking for it, disappearing entirely if I severed its connection to my power. Didn't need to alert the entire gypsy camp that a meddlesome witch had bespelled one of their wagons, after all.

Then I dug out my phone from my pocket and peered around to the side door. The top half of the Dutch door was open only a crack, just barely enough for me to peer inside. Lantern light illuminated a massive wooden trunk that had me thinking maybe this warlock was really a vampire after all, a few hanging pictures in the impressionist style, a chair in front of a vanity with a host of makeup and moisturizers and skin care potions that would've made Cousin Lilac green with envy.

I didn't know what I was looking for, maybe a corkboard with the warlock's dastardly plan all perfectly laid out, maybe a How to Trap And/Or Expel Shadowmen From Inanimate Objects book lying out within easy reach. I was keeping my options open—I still needed to know more about that shadowman tethered to his cane. Maybe I'd just overhear a conversation between Jakob Tabrass and Codrin Alder that I could threaten to reveal to Ms. Charlotte Harris and her Talk of the Town newspaper unless they helped me with my grimoire problem.

But no such luck.

Instead, the warlock sat in front of the vanity. He'd stripped out of his suit, down to his trousers, his pale torso on full display. Along with the myriad paler scars that crisscrossed his skin like spiderwebs. Some were runic, though I didn't recognize the language. Given the harshness of how they had been cut into his skin, I didn't want to.

His cane braced between his knees, he stared into the mirror of the vanity, his lips moving with words I couldn't hear. Was he talking to the creature in the ruby?

The crack in the Dutch door didn't provide the angle needed to see the mirror; sucking in my breath, I hooked my finger under the open top half and gave it a little pull.

Just as I glimpsed something shadowy in the mirror, the door squeaked.

It was said that when Uncle Hare had been a young man, there was no one who could beat him in a footrace, but I daresay I crushed his record for the ten-yard sprint. I was away from that side door and under the eaves of the wagon on its far side, ordering a Lemon Shake-Up and pretending to fuss with my phone in milliseconds.

"Misty!"

Feigning surprise, though I was already shaking like a leaf, I jumped and spun around from the counter.

Teams Fruit Bat and Magic Brewery came hustling up, Flora waving her red cowgirl hat from her position on Daphne's shoulder.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, suddenly relieved to be surrounded by such a large group of people.

Over their heads, I saw a dark form looming in the shadows of the blue-and-black wagon, scanning the footprints on the ground that led to the lemonade stand. Red eyes flared, either in recognition or in suspicion, as the ground between us was already marred quite a bit from my friends' approach.

"I told you she'd be fine," Cohen said. "Usurpers like her don't go down easy." He gave me a teasing wink, which I replied with a very mature gesture of sticking my tongue out at him. Anything to make the watching warlock believe I'd been at the Shake-Up wagon this whole time instead of snooping by his doorway.

"We're busy being worried sick and you're here ordering lemonade?" the garden gnome shrilled.

"Lemon Shake-Up," Shari corrected. She shifted forward and pulled a cornhusk from my clothes, flicking it to the ground.

"Sorry." I smiled sheepishly, hefting my phone. "Phone's dead and I was thirsty. Thought I'd stay somewhere well-lit and near the maze to see if y'all came out a different exit."

"That was very thoughtful of you, dear," Daphne said.

"You weren't running away from someone?" Flora asked, giving Arthur a sharp look.

I gave my ponytail a little impertinent toss. "As if I need to run to solve my problems?"

Which, ironically, was exactly what I'd been doing since I'd fled Hawthorne Manor.

"Ha! That's my girl." Flora settled her hat back on her head. "Well, since we lost because a certain someone had to distract part of the team with twenty questions," she said pointedly at Arthur, yet again, "I say we go get us some funnel cake so this night's not a complete loss."

"Easy, Flora," I said. "We lost because we chose the morally good path. After the firecracker went off, I tried the left path—it was a straight shot right to the center of the maze. And a short one too."

"I knew it! I knew we should have battled that rival rancher for those cows!"

"Again, fake cows," Daphne said. "And our path did take us to the center, it just apparently took us longer."

"But—"

"Are we getting funnel cake or what?" Shari said. "I need to craft or eat if I'm going to listen to all this, and I didn't bring my crochet hook. A mistake I won't be making again."

She marched off, the bat wings of her hat flapping in time to her steps. Charlie was quick on her heels, and the rest of our group followed. If the warlock was still watching us, I didn't glance around to find out—pretending to be oblivious would be my saving grace now. Besides, there was a hulking lumberjack shifter approaching me, his brooding presence impossible to ignore.

I did it anyway, linking arms with Daphne and walking away with her. The older woman didn't miss a trick, glancing over her shoulder. Let her wonder; let him stew. He'd cornered me, demanding answers to questions he had no right to ask. My low and friendly profile always evolved to shy and flirty when I was around him, and why couldn't that be enough?

Thistle thorns, there was a reason why I didn't leave my farm! And it would be the same reason why I wouldn't leave it again after this carnival—Arthur Greenwood was a distraction, and every day I lost my focus was another day my family suffered under that curse. And yet, I'd let myself be distracted one more time tomorrow, for his sake. Because he was good—and might need extra protection against a threat he didn't know existed—and someone who was equally good deserved him. It just wasn't me.

"You alright, dear?" Daphne asked lowly.

I squared my shoulders. "I'll be just fine."