Page 13 of Enchanted Village

The streets of Hex Hollow were filled with the usual clusters of people: tourists visiting, students from the school enjoying their weekend, shoppers young and old popping in and out of stores. All of these people had stopped and were murmuring excitedly together, pointing across the street at where a shimmering, golden haze hung in the air.

“What’s going on?” Margaret asked, shielding her eyes from the sun to try to discern something in the haze. “Is something happening at the Kimmermans’?”

The Kimmermans were an old wizarding family that had owned a small house and a patch of land on the edge of Hex Hollow for years. Though no one would say it to the Kimmermans, it was generally seen as a blight on an otherwise perfect village: The shrubs were overgrown, the weeds were taking over, and the paint was peeling. The Kimmermans didn’t even live there anymore, as they’d moved in with their son in another wizarding town.

“I heard they sold it,” said a witch near Liza and Margaret. She looked young, either a current student at Emberwind or possibly a very recent graduate. She had blond hair that bordered on platinum that hung in a perfect, uniform curtain down her back. She wore a bright-pink cloak and had a voice that sounded like bells.

“Sold it?” Margaret asked, perplexed. There were few things that happened in Hex Hollow that she didn’t know about. This was a surprise, and Margaret had never enjoyed surprises.

“Did you know about this?” Margaret asked Liza, but Liza shook her head.

“They kept it very hush-hush,” said the girl, and Margaret tried not to look annoyed. Where was this girl, this child, getting her information from? And why did she know more than Margaret and Liza?

“I had no idea,” Liza said, her eyes fixed on where the golden haze was beginning to dissipate. “But it looks like—oh!”

Liza, Margaret, and the girl gasped in unison. Around them, the crowd rushed forward to form a ring around where the old house had stood—had being the key word. As everything started to clear, Margaret saw that the old house had vanished.

In its place, a building was starting to take shape. Bricks and mortar were flying together, glass windows were fitting into them like perfectly trained dance partners. A brilliant navy-blue door slid into place. And gilded letters, expertly polished, zipped into place to form four words that made Margaret’s stomach drop.

Fox Bar: Coming Soon!

Chapter Seven

After the interaction Silas had had with Sarah and Priya at Sugar Spell, he had every intention of brushing it off as something to laugh about. Hex Hollow clearly had its quirks, not just the shops themselves but the people who inhabited them. It was yet another thing he admired about the village, the way everything was part of its own rich tapestry. He liked knowing that, just like at the Weary Wyvern, everyone had their own story.

He had to admit, however, that the married couple had only fueled the fire of his curiosity. Who was Margaret Nettle, this witch that they were so fiercely devoted to? There was also an air of protectiveness about how they’d spoken about Margaret. It was why, the morning after his conversation with Sarah and Priya, his mind kept returning to the mysterious pub owner and her pub.

In fact, he was still rolling over the conversation in his mind that morning when he strolled through the Weary Wyvern’s lobby. His eyes caught on Mr. York, who seemed to be having a very harried conversation with a witch. As Silas approached, the witch darted off, grumbling something about “what difference does the weight of the toad make.”

Silas arched an eyebrow. “Rough morning?”

Mr. York rubbed his temple as he dropped back into the service-desk chair.

“The usual,” he said vaguely before lifting his eyes to Silas. “Don’t tell me they shrunk the new coffeemaker already.”

Silas shook his head. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t gotten one yet. But I’m going today. It’s something else—”

“Oh god,” Mr. York said, already starting to stand. “They’ve shrunk the bed, haven’t they? I’ll be right up—”

“Oh, not that, either,” Silas said, making Mr. York pause. “It’s just . . . I was looking for a suggestion.”

Mr. York continued to hover midway between a sitting and a standing position. “A suggestion?”

Silas nodded. “I’ve decided to take your advice. Get a bit more familiar with the town.”

Now Mr. York exhaled, settling back into his seat. “Well, there’s some good news. And what did you have in mind, Professor?”

Silas hesitated. Subtlety had never been his strong suit. Not that he really needed to be subtle. He wasn’t asking about anything suspicious. And yet, he found himself slightly flustered as he searched for the words.

“I’m in the market for a pub.”

Mr. York stared at him. “You want to buy a pub?”

“No, no,” Silas said. “I meant I’d like to go to a pub. Does this village . . . have pubs?”

Now Mr. York looked annoyed. “Do we have pubs? Of course we have a pub. Why would you think we don’t have a proper pub?”

“I didn’t think that,” Silas said. “I just, I thought I heard that there was a pub, and I wanted to know if you would suggest it.”