Page 4 of Enchanted Village

Silas only shrugged. “I’m just keeping myself busy, sir. Though I do have one matter that could use your attention.”

Mr. York sighed. “They shrunk something else, didn’t they?”

“My coffeemaker,” Silas said. “I fear I’m rather partial to it.”

Mr. York massaged his temples. “And I just got word that one of the trolls got their hands on my last replacement and was using it as a stress ball.”

Silas blinked, but at this point, very little surprised him at the Weary Wyvern.

“I can order one from Earl in town,” Mr. York said. “I’ll send him a message now and you can pick it up. Or you can wait until I have a free moment, and I’ll grab it for you.” He raised an eyebrow at Silas on this last offer so that they both knew it was not the preferred option.

“Of course I’ll grab it,” Silas said. “I was heading into town to do some paper grading today anyway.”

Mr. York shook his head as he wrote out the shop name on a scrap of paper. “A young man like you shouldn’t be grading papers on the weekend. You need fresh air, son. And company. Maybe even a date, dare I say it.”

Silas only laughed as he snatched the paper. “I’ll have fresh air while I’m grading. And there’ll be people nearby. How’s two out of three?”

“Unsatisfactory,” Mr. York grumbled, but he didn’t push the matter.

Silas pocketed the paper, thanked the innkeeper, and then turned on his heels. When he stepped outside, he breathed in the smell of crisp, fall leaves and took in the cobblestone pathway that ran from the inn and then split in two directions: To the left, it wound up through the forest and to the castle of Emberwind Academy, while to the right, it fed into the village itself, a bustling place full of shops and filled with witches and wizards winding down the lane as they moved from store to store. A spindly metal sign declared the village as Hex Hollow, and Silas smiled at the very sight of it.

It wasn’t that Silas had felt entirely out of place before he’d accepted the job as Emberwind Academy’s newest staff member in September. But something about this place made him feel grounded in a way he never had before. He never felt more like he belonged, even if, technically, he . . . well . . . didn’t, as a non-magical person living and working in a decidedly most magical place.

He walked through and past the signage, chuckled at the children pointing at the stuffed unicorns jumping in the window of the magical toy shop, and found his breath catching at the gallery full of paintings that shifted to new landscapes depending on the person walking past. Who wouldn’t fall in love with a place like this?

In fact, he was so distracted that he didn’t notice the people shouting. That is, until he looked away from the art gallery to the shop across from it, where, through the window, Silas saw a flash of auburn hair and something large with snapping teeth that made him nearly drop the paper in his hand.

Chapter Three

“I told you this was a bad idea.”

If Liza had waited to say this until a later moment—one when Margaret was not standing opposite an adolescent kurlop, wielding a broomstick and fending off the kurlop’s fangs—then Margaret might have agreed with her. But Margaret’s stubbornness and survival instincts had taken over. She didn’t have time to think about the ways in which going head-to-head with a kurlop was a bad idea. She had to stay firmly in the present, and the present was meeting the kurlop’s gaze with her own.

Mr. Weatherby had been quite accurate in his assessment of the kurlop’s size: It was roughly the height and weight of a bulldog, but instead of friendly jowls and fur, the kurlop’s spindly, many-legged body was covered in fluffy white feathers. The closest comparison to a non-magical animal that could be made for it was to a spider, but only if the spider in question also had the beak of a parrot and fangs of a snake. Those fangs were currently snapping at Margaret as the kurlop backed up into a corner, red eyes flashing at the broomstick in Margaret’s hand.

“Margaret, let’s just go,” Liza said. “That thing’s going to take your arm off. We can find someone else to help Weatherby.”

“No,” Margaret said, her voice soft but firm. “I’ve got it. He’s just scared.”

And Margaret knew that was true. There was a tremor in how the kurlop was holding himself, a way that his legs were shaking and his eyes kept jumping around the room. The kurlop didn’t want to be here in this stuffy shop, every shelf filled to the brim with odd gadgets from the non-magical world, every corner smelling like plastic and shredded wood.

“It’s all right,” Margaret told the kurlop as she set the broom down. “I’m not going to hurt you, and you’re not going to hurt me, either, are you?”

She held out her hands to show the kurlop she was telling the truth. The creature hissed and tried to back up farther against the wall, but there was nowhere else to go. Margaret stopped moving. Her eyes darted to the window.

“I can get you outside,” she offered. “To the forest. Lots of cozy, dark places to hide. What do you say?”

The kurlop shivered, and Margaret’s heart twisted. This was the thing about magical creatures. So often, people were eager to coo over the ones with soft, velvet ears or fur that felt like down, but when they saw a kurlop or anything else with fangs and teeth, they would shrink away.

But Margaret saw more than sharp fangs. A kurlop this young had been orphaned, no doubt about that. He could survive, but already, the world had been unkind. Margaret would not allow that for a moment longer.

She stepped forward and held out her hands. At once, the kurlop opened his jaw as if to snap it closed over Margaret’s hand, but then he stopped. Red eyes met Margaret’s green ones, and the kurlop’s feathers deflated, making the creature look smaller still. He clicked his beak and, with a final nod from Margaret, skittered up her outstretched arms so that she could hold him close to her chest.

Margaret smiled as the kurlop began to purr.

“You are unbelievable,” Liza said, almost making Margaret jolt. She’d nearly forgotten that her friend was watching, but she turned to her now and let out a relieved breath as Liza shook her head, looking ruefully impressed.

“I’m going to take him outside,” Margaret told her. “Will you let Weatherby know he’s safe to come back in?”