Page 17 of Summer L.A.W.

Crystal laid the compass on the long oak table.

Sahara leaned over it. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the mansion’s reaction.”

They all gathered around, muttering complaints, clearly unsettled. The bird hopped down to perch right beside the compass, wings twitching like it was daring the thing to move.

Crystal set her palms flat on the table. “It’s not kelp junk. It’s a sailor’s binding charm. And the fact that it’s sitting here, humming through the house like a tuning fork, means something’s either broken loose or looking for a way in.”

Joell arrived last, calm as ever, dressed like she’d been expecting a casual Friday council meeting. She glanced at each of them, then at the compass. “Well,” she said mildly, “I suppose I should thank whoever decided to bring cursed artifacts into our library before breakfast.”

“That would be me, by way of Mason,” Crystal said. “He found more crap on the beach this morning.

“Who?” Rayna asked.

“That’s right, you haven’t been here. The so-called plumber who repaired our pipes when they exploded the other day.”

“The pipes exploded?” Rayna’s eyes rounded.

Crystal waved her away, as if she were an annoying fly. “Too much has happened. Ask someone to catch you up after we figure this out.”

“Where is he, by the way?” Joell asked.

Crystal shrugged. “I think he went back to Raoul’s place.”

Mason raised his hands from the doorway. “Hi. I’m the so-called plumber and beach junk delivery guy. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

The water inside the compass shifted, restless, pressing against the glass as if it wanted out. The whole table vibrated beneath their hands.

The bird shrieked again. The lights flickered.

And just like that, everyone and everything stopped talking.

Joell’s gaze swept the room. “The house doesn’t summon us for amusements. Whatever this is, it isn’t waiting politely.”

Magda leaned forward, eyes bright despite herself. “So… Is this good news? Group project?”

“Bad news,” Crystal corrected. “Group funeral, if we don’t figure out what it wants.”

The bird gave a final, low whistle, as though seconding that opinion.

Mason had just closed the library doors behind him when they banged open again. Victoria swept in, perfectly put together as always, though her stilettos clicked a little too sharply on the old hardwood floorboards. Her raccoon familiar was draped across her shoulders like an unwilling stole, fur puffed out in alarm.

“Does anyone want to explain why the wards just tried to give me a magical nosebleed on the front steps?” she demanded, smoothing a hand down her designer blazer as though that would calm her heartbeat.

“Are you wearing the magical jewelry we overnighted to you?” Sahara asked.

“Uh, no. It took me all day and night to get here. Helicopters don’t store half a continent’s worth of fuel. That means I have to make several stops.”

Lioness came in right behind her. “I saw the lights flicker from the drive,” she said. “Either the mansion’s auditioning for a horror movie, or something’s wrong.”

All eyes swung back to the compass. Its black water pressed against the glass again, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“We don’t know what’s wrong, but something is,” Joell said simply. “Very wrong.”

The table vibrated again, the compass giving a low hum that resonated in their bones. The raccoon hissed and buried its face in Victoria’s hair.

“Okay, I hate it,” Brianna announced. “Votes to throw it back into the ocean?” She raised her hand.

“That’s not how binding charms work,” Crystal said. “You toss it back, and you’re just handing the key to whatever it was locking away.”