22. Ecco

22

ECCO

G raeme and I spent the next several days mapping each other's bodies. Eventually, I realized I'd gone silent on my manager and had entirely stopped thinking about my career. Now, I sit cross-legged on the heart-shaped bed in the honeymoon suite, laptop balanced precariously on my knees as I chat with Natalie over video call.

Graeme stepped into the hall to give me privacy to chat with her, but is waiting, as always, just outside the door.

Natalie's face fills the screen, her blond bob and impeccable makeup as professionally polished as always—but there's excitement dancing in her eyes.

"Ecco, you won't believe this," she gushes. "I thought this blizzard was going to be a disaster, that we were going to lose all the momentum from the album release, having to postpone your appearances. But guess what? People are eating up this crazy turn of events. Your fans are even more obsessed with you than ever!"

I blink, a little dazzled by this revelation.

There's a twinge of annoyance—of course people are rubbernecking my situation, treating my life like some juicy soap opera. As if being trapped in a magical snow globe with a mystery stalker is just the latest episode of The Ecco Show, not a stressful situation that a real person has to deal with.

But I can't deny that I'm also relieved by Natalie's words. And it may be sappy, but knowing that my fans are still out there, still rooting for me even in the midst of all this chaos—it means a lot.

Natalie leans closer to the camera, her brow creasing with concern. "Has there been any sign of the stalker? Any new sightings or incidents?"

My thoughts drift to that chilling moment at the town hall, when Graeme and I came face-to-face with my tormentor. I had immediately called Natalie afterwards, filling her in on every eerie detail.

But since then? Radio silence. No more glimpses in my periphery, no more ominous feelings of being watched.

It's been six days of holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, holding my breath and… doing other things, too.

I shake my head, holding back a grin at the turn my thoughts have taken. "No, all's been quiet on that front." I pause, sobering. "It's almost… too quiet."

Natalie nods grimly. "I don't like that at all. It would be better if they made themselves more apparent, at least that would give us a chance to catch them." She pauses, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Well, at least I made you hire that bodyguard, huh? Bet you're happy to have him around now, aren't you?"

A flush of heat spreads across my cheeks at the mention of Graeme. I'm pretty sure Natalie is just gloating about being right, that she doesn't know anything more.

Oh, if only Natalie knew just how happy I am to have him around.

With the swirling snow keeping us here, together, in Elderberry Falls, something that feels very real has blossomed between us. When I'm in Graeme's arms, the rest of the world just fades away.

But I keep that revelation to myself, an inkling in my gut telling me that Natalie might not approve of our newfound intimacy. She's always such a consummate professional, and I don't want to risk her disapproval. Not when I'm already dealing with so much.

As the call ends and I close my laptop, a wistful sigh escapes my lips. I know I should be grateful that my career is thriving, even as I'm trapped in this enchanted town.

But a growing part of me is starting to dread the inevitable moment when the storm clears and I'll have to leave Elderberry Falls behind, and leave behind this magical, frozen moment that Graeme and I have shared.

Despite the threat of the stalker, despite the uncertainty of when we'll be able to get back to normal… I've never felt more like myself. More at home.

And the thought of giving that up, of going back to my whirlwind life and leaving this magical little haven behind?

It makes my heart ache in a way I never saw coming.

A few hours later, I'm back at the town hall setting up for our next children's choir practice. The kids start trickling in, their excited chatter filling the air as they take their seats. I can't help but smile at their enthusiasm, the way they bounce and giggle and tease each other.

A small figure comes bounding up to me, her pink hair bouncing with each step. It's Karisse, the little sprite who seems to be my most ardent admirer.

Her face is alight with pure hero-worship as she clutches a poster of me to her chest like it's the most precious thing in the world.

"Miss Ecco, Miss Ecco!" Karisse chirps, her voice high and sweet. "Can you sign this for me? I want to be just like you someday, making music that makes everyone around me happy!"

Her words strike a chord, and my eyes mist over. I take the poster from her, my fingers tracing the glossy image of my own face. In that moment, I'm reminded of the power I wield with my voice.

It's a heavy responsibility, but also a beautiful gift.

"Of course, sweetie," I say softly. I scrawl my signature across the poster, adding a little heart and a personalized message: "Never stop singing, little one. Your music is magic."

Karisse beams up at me as she takes the poster back. She hugs it to her chest, then darts off to join her friends, her wings fluttering with excitement.

As I'm watching her go, I feel a presence at my side. I turn to see Graeme, his expression tense. He's glancing warily around as if searching for an unseen threat, and my heart sinks.

He leans in close, his voice urgent. "Ecco, I keep getting hints of the stalker's scent. It's faint, but it's there."

A stab of fear hits me at his words.

"Is it possible it's just lingering from last week?" I ask hesitantly. "Maybe it's not a new presence, but a remnant of the last time?"

Graeme closes his eyes in concentration, his nostrils flaring as he uses his enhanced gargoyle senses.

"It's possible," he admits. "I can't be sure. But something about it smells… fresh. Like they're nearby."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the beacon the police gave us, the device that will summon help at a moment's notice.

"I'll have this on me at all times," he says firmly. "And I need you to be on guard, Ecco. Don't let your focus slip, not even for a second."

I nod, worrying my lower lip with my teeth.

The rest of choir practice passes in a blur, the sweet harmonies washing over me as I try to pay attention to the children's music and stay alert at the same time. I can't shake the constant prickle at the back of my neck, the sensation of being watched.

The town hall, previously so familiar and comforting, now is claustrophobic, the shadows lengthening and twisting in the corners of my vision. I keep twitching, thinking I've seen something, but then realizing it's just my imagination getting the better of me.

Please , I plead silently. Let this be over soon . I can't take much more of this.

The words are like a desperate prayer for relief from the stress and uncertainty that have become my new normal. I'm so tired of being afraid, of jumping at every shadow, and second-guessing everyone I see.

As practice winds down and the children start to disperse, I turn to Graeme.

"I want to go visit Velda, see how she's doing," I tell him. "I feel terrible that I didn't make it over there with Mariah the other day. She did so much for me when I was younger. And…focusing on someone else's problems instead of my own will be good for me."

Graeme nods, seeming to sense the anxiety that's pressing down on my shoulders and tightening my chest.

"Of course," he says gently. "Let's go."

As we approach Velda's thatch-roofed cottage, blanketed cheerily in snow with glittering icicles sparkling in the afternoon sun, a wave of nostalgia washes over me. Memories of my childhood come rushing back, of warm afternoons spent in this very home, nibbling on freshly baked scones and listening to Velda's whimsical stories.

After my mom left town, Velda and her wife Myrtle were always there for me, offering a safe haven. They became like a second set of grandparents to me, especially once Dad's parents passed away.

Even now, just the sight of their home fills me with a sense of belonging.

A pang shoots through me as I think again about how Myrtle is gone, Velda left alone in this cottage that was previously so full of love.

Before Graeme and I even have a chance to knock, the door swings open, revealing a sniffling Velda wrapped in a threadbare quilt. Her normally warm brown skin looks ashen and her eyes are watery, but the smile that lights up her face is as warm as ever.

"Ecco, dear!" she exclaims, her voice slightly hoarse. "And this must be your handsome bodyguard I've heard so much about."

My cheeks flush at her words. What has Mariah told her?

Velda ushers us inside, fussing over us like a mother hen. "Come in, come in," she insists. "Let me put on some tea."

As she bustles off towards the kitchen, I take a moment to drink in the familiar surroundings. The cozy living room looks just like I remember, with its overstuffed armchairs and shelves crammed with well-loved books about every magical topic imaginable. The air is fragrant with the scent of herbs and honey, although a mustiness hangs about the house now too, almost as if I can smell Velda's illness.

Graeme's hand finds the small of my back, a grounding touch.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice low.

I lean into him, letting his solid presence anchor me.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Better than okay, actually. Being here… this place is like a second home."

We settle into the cozy living room and I admire the familiar magical decor. The throw pillows are embroidered with intricate runes that shimmer and shift in the light, and the curtains seem to ripple and sway of their own accord. Even the teacups Velda sets in front of us on the coffee table are adorned with delicate, iridescent dragonflies that flutter their wings as the steam rises from the aromatic brew.

Velda and Myrtle always used to joke that the two of them together created more magic than most people could handle.

My gaze drifts over to the clutter of cold remedies and used tissues scattered across the table, and my heart twists with concern.

"Velda, I hope you're feeling better," I say, reaching out to clasp the older woman's hand. Her skin is thin and papery beneath my fingers, but her grip is still strong. "I wish there was something I could do for you to help you get well."

Velda's eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiles, the lines of a life well-lived etched into her face.

"Oh, child," she says. "Just having you here is medicine enough."

But I owe her more than just a visit. After all, Velda was there for me during one of the toughest times in my life.

I turn to Graeme, wanting to explain.

"Did you know that Velda was my math teacher when I was younger? When my mom left, I didn't get out of bed for a week. But when I finally came back to school, Velda put a rainbow in the sky for me every day for a month."

Graeme's eyes widen. "That's incredible," he rumbles, looking over at Velda.

Velda waves off our words, a wistful smile playing at her mouth.

"Oh, that? That was nothing, dear. Just a bit of magic to brighten your day." She chuckles, a faraway look in her eyes. "You know, I had a bet going with Myrtle. She didn't think I could keep the rainbows going for that long. But I was determined to prove her wrong."

At the mention of Myrtle, Velda's eyes grow misty, and her hands tremble, rattling her teacup against its saucer. She sets it down on the coffee table.

"If she were here now, she'd tell me to stop being such a baby. To just suck it up and tell this cold and snow to go away. She always had such vim, such spirit. She never had any patience for my little moods."

My heart clenches as I watch Velda's composure crumble, the older woman's shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I reach out and take her hand again, offering what little comfort I can.

"I'm so sorry, Velda. I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you. To lose your other half, your soulmate..."

My own voice cracks, and Graeme's arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me close. In this moment, I'm grateful for his steady presence, even as my own emotions threaten to overwhelm me.

I want to be strong for Velda, but I can't help but feel the echoes of her grief resonating in my own heart. My time with Graeme is temporary. We haven't talked about what we are, yet, and I know he has to go back to his clan after this protection assignment.

The thought of losing Graeme, of facing a life without him… it's almost too much to bear.

How did he become so important to me so quickly?

But I push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the witch in front of me.

"We're here for you, Velda," I say, my voice gentle. "Whatever you need, whatever we can do. We're not going anywhere."

Velda swipes at her eyes with the corner of her quilt, a shuddering breath escaping her lips.

"I just can't believe she's really gone," she says. "We knew it was coming, and I thought… I thought that would make it easier, somehow. But everywhere I turn, there are reminders of her. Of the life we shared. And without her, I'm so… so alone."

Her words seem to fill the room with a palpable sense of loss.

I can see the way grief clings to her, like a specter that haunts her. It's in the slump of her shoulders, the hollowness of her cheeks, the way her eyes seem to drift to some distant point beyond the confines of this cozy living room.

I turn our conversation back to gentle remembrances from my childhood, and time passes in quiet companionship, our conversation broken only by the occasional sniffle or hiccup as Velda's tears slowly subside.

Eventually, Graeme and I take our leave, promising to check in on Velda again soon.

A heavy silence falls between us. It's as if the weight of Velda's sorrow has followed us out the door, clinging to our skin like a shroud.

We walk quietly together for a few moments, trudging through yet another new layer of freshly fallen snow, and as we make our way back towards the center of town, my mind begins to whirl with a sudden realization.

What if Velda's illness, her inability to control her powers… what if it's not a physical ailment at all?

What if the true sickness, the real root of her suffering, is the all-consuming grief that has taken hold of her heart?

The thought stops me in my tracks, and I feel Graeme's questioning gaze on me as I turn to face him.

"I think I know what's wrong with Velda," I say, my words coming fast as I share my revelation. "It's not the flu that's keeping her magic in turmoil. It's… it's her broken heart. She's lost the love of her life, and it's tearing her apart from the inside out."

Graeme's eyes search mine as he tries to make sense of my words.

"You really think that's what's causing all of this?" He gestures around us to the piles of snow, to the endless swirling snowflakes that are falling. "This is all because of her grief?"

I nod, my throat tight with emotion. "I do. I mean, think about it. Velda's powers are tied to her emotions, right? And what could be more emotionally overwhelming than losing your wife? It's no wonder she can't control her weather magic. She's lost the person who helped her keep it all in balance."

As the words leave my lips, a sense of helplessness washes over me. Because how can we help Velda get better in the face of such grief?

What can heal a broken heart?