Page 58 of Haunt Me, Maybe

Omens can be harbingers for both good and bad things to come, Fenn explained. But they can also be reactions to a major shift or imbalance.

“What Fenn means is…” I waved my hand to encompass the orchard and rot. “Using corrupt magic to search for me is leaving these cursed signs behind. It’s both a reaction and a warning.”

I shook just thinking about it. That Gideon could be so close already…was there really no escape from him? Would he destroy all that was beautiful and magical in this town on his quest to find me? Wes’s hand held mine through the panic, and our fingers threaded together.

His touch grounded me before I lost control, and when I exhaled, the tension eased enough for me to think clearly.

“It doesn’t mean he’s found me,” I said aloud. “Not yet. There won’t be a warning beforehand once he does.”

“But this means he’s looking,” Wes said. It was more of a question, but we all knew the answer already.

“Yes.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue.

The three of us moved deeper into the orchard, careful where we stepped…and hopped. In the center, beneath the oldest tree with a trunk gnarled and cracked, we found it. The source of the rot and the heavy presence. A crude sigil was burned into the bark, like a scar. Not carved or drawn. But pressed. I didn’t even need to touch it to know; it was his. The proof we needed.

“Can you disrupt it? Break it?” Wes asked, and Fenn huffed.

I studied the sigil, my heart racing. “Not without lighting myself up like a beacon.”

I was strong enough, and Fenn had the knowledge, but we weren’t yet prepared for the consequences. We left it untouched. As we left the orchard behind, the air followed, sticky with the memory of split fruit and listening trees. The fence creaked softly as we stepped through it, like a sigh of disappointment. None of us looked back.

Still full from our practices, Fenn hopped ahead to begin another night of grounding. We were done exploring, and there should be no more risks before the morning, but it still made me nervous when he left for so long.

Thank the Goddess I wasn’t alone. My pulse hadn’t slowed, despite the distance Wes and I continued to put between us and the omen. My magic churned within me, pacing inside a cage that was suddenly too small.

Every step toward town felt unreal, like I was walking through a place I’d somehow already left. Wes kept pace beside me, comforting in his silence. He let me think through my mess of emotions, even though the ribbon at his wrist glowed with the onslaught of them. That was going to take some getting used to.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” I finally admitted, over the soft crunching of leaves on the sidewalk. “Knowing he’s out there. That this—” I gestured, helpless. “That this could all be taken away or ruined, and it would be my fault.”

Wes stopped walking, and I took a few more steps before noticing. When I turned, he was watching me with surprising intensity. He looked at me like I was something rare. Something worth studying closely.

“You said it means he’s searching,” he said. “Not that he’d found you.”

My throat tightened. “Yet.”

Wes reached out then, slow enough that I had time to pull away if I wanted to. His fingers curled around my wrist, warm in a way that still felt like a small miracle. The contact calmed me instantly, and I met his gaze with less fear in my own.

“We’ll stay ahead of him. We’ll be prepared, and if he shows his face, we’ll stop him once and for all. For the town. For you. For us.”

Something in his voice made my eyes burn. He stood there, absolute and unyielding, believing every word he said. I nodded once, too afraid to speak. It wasn’t that I doubted his sincerity; only my ability was in question. I had a ways to go if he thought I’d be a match for Gideon.

My thoughts circled endlessly until the familiar shape of the inn came into view. Up in the attic, the quiet felt too loud. I changed into my favorite oversized shirt on autopilot, my movements stiff and mechanical. I barely even registered Wes sitting beside me on the bed until his hand gently closed around mine. I nodded, throat tight, and leaned into him more.

His arm came around my shoulders, and that’s how we stayed for a long time. Eventually, exhaustion dragged me under, and I knew no more.

The dream took me without warning. I was back in the orchard, but it was endless now; twisted rows stretching into blackness. The apples glowed faintly on branches bent too low, their rotted skins too bright against the dark while they eerily pulsed like hearts. The ground was slick beneath my feet and stained with whatever that substance was that smelled of death and iron.

Something moved between the trees.

Not a shape, but a powerful presence. My magic surged in terror, lighting me up from the inside⁠—

I woke with a cry, heart slamming against my ribs and hands clawing for something solid. The room swam with shadows that stretched and loomed far too close. My breath came one on top of the other, caught somewhere between rapid and hyperventilating. Arms wrapped around me, and soft lips grazed my ear.

“Aven,” Wes murmured. “You’re safe.”

I clutched at him without thinking, fingers fisting his shirt like he’d vanish if I let go. He gathered me up, pulling me into his lap with one hand firm at my back and the other cradling my head against his shoulder. My legs ended up on either side of his waist as my forehead pressed into the curve of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed. “You’re safe. You’re here.”