Page 46 of No Charm Done

Much later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the street outside Williams Hardware lay silent and empty. Empty of people, at least.

But on the cobblestones, Scarlett’s fallen hawk twitched.

One eye opened.

With an offended squawk, the hawk righted itself, flapped once, and lunged forward. It snatched up the tiny cobra in a single gulp before taking to the air, disappearing forever into the cloudless Oak Haven sky.

Chapter 15

Chips Hit the Floor

You can learn a lot about folks from where they hold their enemies, Elias thought. His waiting room in the Void, for example. Inescapable, timeless, yet bland enough to drive a man mad. The magicians had put a lot of thought into how to truly make him miserable.

Likewise, the Melroses hadn’t thrown together this containment cell with a couple of swiftly drawn sigils. The space had been constructed the way Rockefellers built libraries: on purpose and for all time. Granite blocks were planed smooth, and iron bands the width of a palm bolted through like a spine. Some clever Melrose ancestor had paid stonecutters, blacksmiths, and a very patient sigilist to make sure prisoners stayed exactly where they were put.

But Elias couldn’t help noticing—it sure didn’t smell like a jail down here. There was a strong floral scent, with a tired sourness underneath, like fruit that vaguely remembered being alive. He knew that scent well; in 1920 he’d spent a summer sleeping on sacks of sugar while a man named Pettibone taught him how to keep the equipment from exploding. This basement made booze once; the smell still lingered in the beams.

Elias took in the gathering. Inside the bars: three magicians in toppers and waistcoats. He’d spent enough time on the wrong side of the law to recognize low-ranking goons when he saw them. That’s who they send to pinch me, he thought. This trio of junior-grade palookas? Highly, highly insulting.

They’d refused to offer their names, so Elias invented some in his head. The square-shouldered one who stood forward and did the talking? Elias mentally tagged him Stock. The careful, nervous one with fast eyes became Ledger. The smirker—a born heckler, clearly—he dubbed Quip.

Stock, Ledger, and Quip, like a shifty law firm.

Outside the bars was the opposing team. Kelly Melrose, posture straight enough to frame a wall; Delilah, neat as an archive and just as thorough; Scarlett, loose-limbed and ready to cause trouble; and Luna. Luna . . . all bright focus and stubborn hope. Elias had to struggle to keep his eyes from tracing her form. Her presence made the air feel different, more alive somehow. What power she wields over me, without even trying. That can’t be good.

“Gentlemen . . .” Kelly started in a voice warm enough to thaw, firm enough to hold. “An app called CastR poses a threat to all of us: witches, magicians, anyone with a stake in magic. We’d like to stop its creator, Ashton Vex, without destroying everything else.”

Stock tapped one of the bars, taking its measure. “You built this for us. For our kind.”

“We built it for anyone who makes Oak Haven a target,” Kelly said.

“What is it about us, anyway?” Luna genuinely wanted to know. “Witches and magicians don’t much like one another, fine. Why does our town in particular end up as the target of every evil plan?”

“You hoard,” Ledger replied. “You’re snobs, with your ridiculous forgetting spell, spitting out amnesia.”

Stock stepped close to the bars. “And then there’s Salem.”

Kelly sighed. “We know. Our ancestors failed the people of Salem. It’s been our shame for many⁠—”

“Failed the people?” Stock repeated. “You left fellow magical beings to hang, is what you did.”

Silence fell in a way that made the little hairs on Elias’s arms stand up. He looked at each of them: faces tense, no one quite meeting anyone else’s eyes.

But Kelly didn’t flinch. “Explain.”

“The victims of Salem were amateur magicians. They were young and untrained, learning from pamphlets and whispers. But your people let them die because they weren’t witches by blood.”

“That can’t be,” said Delilah. “No . . . I mean, we would have been taught this story . . . wouldn’t we?”

Quip shook his head. “Why? Easier to sand the story smooth, right? Easier to say ‘poor innocent humans’ than ‘magicians we left to die.’”

Elias watched Luna as the revelation settled on her. Her hurt, her anger, then that special grief when you learn someone—or someones—wasn’t who you thought. He knew that feeling. Hell, he’d caused that feeling more times than he cared to remember.

“Listen, fellas,” he offered, “whatever happened way back then, these ladies didn’t know.”

“So they say,” Quip said.

“Nah, nah. We can all smell a lie. There isn’t one on their side of the iron.”