Chapter 11

OLAND

Chasing after a runaway bride is not as thrilling as it sounds, especially when she manages to vanish into thin air like a professional escape artist. I barely blinked before Swyn was gone – no trail of breadcrumbs, no convenient spell to track her, just me, a strained magical bond, and the vague sense that I've been outwitted.

She didn't just walk out. No, my newlywed wife decided to take off halfway across the bloody world with the precision and determination of an Olympic sprinter.

And here I am, speeding down a country road, not even sure where she's headed next.

"Good job, Oland," I mutter, squinting at the road. "Excellent start to married life. Losing your wife in less than twenty-four hours."

To be fair, I knew the second I saw her walk down the aisle that she had a rebellious streak. Hell, it's part of what made me actually decide to marry her.

Even as I stood at the altar, I was in two minds as to whether I could actually go through with the ceremony. But seeing her in a black wedding dress, that little spark of defiance, cemented my decision to go forward with it.

But hopping on a plane? To America?

That part I hadn't expected.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, frustration boiling over. Who runs off to America? Without so much as a goodbye? Not to mention, it's not like I have a handy spell to help me track international flights. This is what I get for marrying into a witch family with a habit of keeping secrets.

And speaking of secrets…

Elias.

Swyn's dearly departed ancestor has been unusually chatty in my dreams lately. I didn't ask for his prophetic ramblings, but since the wedding, it's been like having a backseat driver that only shows up when I'm asleep – or losing my mind.

The car suddenly fills with the smell of musty old books and something that reminds me of burning sage. It's so unexpected that I swerve into the lane of oncoming traffic and get blasted. Great.

The passenger seat flickers with that familiar, glowing light, and before I even have a chance to groan, Elias is there, lounging casually like he's the King of England.

"Oh shit. Have I fallen asleep behind the wheel?" I ask, panicking.

"Nah."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"It's a lovely evening for a drive, wouldn't you say, Oland?" he says, completely unfazed by the fact that I almost swerved off the road when he appeared. "I don't just visit people in their dreams, don't you know."

I sigh. "You again. Did you come to tell me what a terrible job I'm doing, or are you here to actually help for once?"

Elias grins – because of course he does. "Bit of both, actually."

I shoot him a look, keeping one eye on the road. "Fantastic. What cryptic nonsense do you have for me today?"

"Well," he begins, all too cheerfully, "you've lost your bride."

"Thanks for the reminder," I grumble. "Any chance you can tell me where she is?"

"America," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You'll need to get on a plane."

I clench my jaw. "I know she's in America. That doesn't exactly help me. America's a big place."

Elias leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, the glowing light from his spirit pulsing faintly. "It's not just any place, Oland. She's being drawn somewhere... specific."

"And I suppose you're not going to tell me where?"

Elias's grin widens, eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're learning."

"Of course," I mutter. "Because why make anything easy?"

"Oh, but I can give you a hint," he says, leaning forward, his voice lowering as if what he's about to say is some grand secret. " Spells Hollow ."

I frown, the name sounding vaguely ominous. "What's Spells Hollow? Never heard of it."

Elias tilts his head, his expression growing a bit more serious. "It's an old place. Very old. Hidden, forgotten, but not by all. It's the kind of town that keeps certain people out, and draws certain people in...and keeps them. Swyn doesn't know it yet, but she's being pulled toward something there. The magic there is powerful, ancient. It's not somewhere she can just waltz in and out of."

"That sounds comforting," I reply, my sarcasm barely concealed. "And why, exactly, would she go there?"

Elias smirks. "I'd say it's part of her heritage, wouldn't you?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Right. So this is all some big ancestral drama?"

"Ancestral drama," Elias muses, stroking his chin. "I like that. But no, it's more than that. There are...things in Spells Hollow that don't take kindly to newcomers. Especially not newcomers with Swyn's particular lineage."

I stare straight ahead, processing that information. "So, you're telling me my wife is running straight into a trap."

"Trap's a strong word," Elias says, raising an eyebrow. "I prefer challenge ."

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.