Page 79 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“We have options,” I say, trying for a smile. Judging by the look of the people staring back at me with varying degrees of concern, I’ve failed spectacularly. “My dad has a spell for this occasion too. It can help us figure out where to go next.”

I keep the true worry secret because it’s too bleak to speak into existence: whether the hunters have orders to arrest us or slay on sight.

36

The Maze

The carving is etched onto the ceiling above the artist’s bed. From a distance, the maze scans like a geometric tapestry; up close, the craftsmanship reveals subtle variations in depth and edge crispness. Those who have studied the artist’s work might find it fascinating that the creator wished to gaze at this work each night before falling asleep. Is it a symbol, a threshold to be crossed, or an indication of the artist’s emotional state? It might, instead, be an expression of hope, that there is always an available path. The complexity of the pattern can be soothing to busy minds, allowing them to focus on tracing the lines to find their own center.

Kerboros

Now that the initial danger has passed, I take stock of our surroundings.

We’ve landed in a meadow, bordered in all directions by distant trees. One side has a mushroom circle, the other a row of standing stones. To the right, the approach has a rocky path that’s been laid on purpose, leading to a deep and dreary wood. On the left, there’s a profusion of wildflowers in purple hues—violet, lavender, lilac, and periwinkle. Some are tall and ferny, while others grow close to the ground. I don’t sense danger from any of these areas, but I’m not in top form right now.

“My head,” Rosa groans.

“It’s unbearable,” Taragon adds.

Govannon sighs. “We overextended ourselves, I fear.”

“It was the only way out of the In-Between,” Zeph says.

My head pounds as well. Light hurts my eyes, and my skull feels heavy. Until now, I didn’t realize it was possible to have a magical hangover. It’s so painful that I can’t think properly, and it takes me longer than it should to realize this.

“Even if the new trackers lack my skill, we must stay ahead of them.”

“My dad wrote a couple of spells that might prove useful,” Thea says, producing the battered grimoire that saved us before.

I worry that she may not be strong enough to tap magic again, as she struggles with it at the best of times. It might have been better to do this as a group, but when the portal closed, it also ended our link. She won’t appreciate me questioning her, however, so I will support her, whatever she chooses to do. And if she stumbles, I will catch her.

Thea appears to rush the first charm, and I cannot discern whether the initial working had any effect. Next, she completes the second spell, and she takes a step toward the flower path. She bites her lip, glancing over one shoulder to see whether we’ll follow. I do. And the others fall in behind me, silent, most likely in exhaustion.

We have already suffered so much. And now we must run, just like those I once hunted. The appropriate nature of this trial does not escape me.

“You’re sure we should head this way?” Taragon asks Thea.

“I think so,” she answers.

“I would have gone with the mushroom circle,” Govannon says.

Zeph shakes their head. “The obvious transport hubs will be guarded. We can’t travel openly through known portals. For my plan to succeed, we must stay ahead of pursuit and reach the Autumn Court within the next ten days.”

“What plan?” Thea gripes. “As far as I can tell, you don’t have one.”

“Thea has a point. Do you ever intend to share your incredible plan?” Taragon asks with audible skepticism. “Because I agree, it’s starting to feel as though you’re winging it.”

“How dare you,” Zeph says, entirely without heat.

At the back of the group, Govannon is talking quietly with Rosa. Their voices are too low for me to discern the topic of conversation, which is fairly unusual. The pixie isn’t known for her discretion, so I wonder what that’s about. Taragon, walking quietly beside me, casts more than one look back, as if she might be thinking the same thing.

The mortal woman, Olive, speeds up to fall in step with Thea. “I came from the stone circle over there. It’s farther than it looks.”

“How did you get here, anyway?” Thea asks.

As I’m directly behind them, it’s impossible not to overhear. I won’t join the conversation unless Thea addresses me directly. People may one day call me her hound instead, for the way I feel, I would follow her to the end of the world for a gentle word and a soft caress.

“I drove to a grouping of stones in Massachusetts. Local legends claimed that when all conditions aligned, it was possible to pass through to the fae realm from there. So I did the research, and there was a blood moon happening, so—”