In minutes, they were gone.

And it was my fault.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence the police had showed up at the B&B after the town hall. People were upset. They would be under pressure to do something. To act.

Well, they weren’t the only ones.

If I had time, figuring out what to do wouldn’t have been a problem. I would spend days, weeks, months, pondering the perfect spell to help my aunts. I would read every grimoire, weigh all my options, find the perfect bit of magic to use in this situation. But I didn’t have the luxury of time.

I needed to do something now.

“Brynn?”

I heard the voice without registering it. My thoughts were swirling.

“Brynn!”

Gideon.

I didn’t have time to talk. The time for talking was over. I needed to find out who killed Constance Graves, and I no longer cared how I did it.

I raced into the kitchen, frantically opening and closing cupboards, grabbing everything I thought I might need. Many tools and ingredients were standard. A copper pot. Measuring cups. A long wooden spoon. Wooden spoons were always better for the mixing. The prune juice that was still in the fridge. That would work nicely. And Constance’s comb! I couldn’t forget that.

“Brynn, I can hear you down there. I need to know what you’re planning. We don’t want to do anything rash.”

I didn’t answer. Izzy was right. If Gideon had something to say, he could come down and say it. Now, what else did I need?

Grimoires!

I raced to the library next. I knew just the one I needed. Where was it? Third or fourth shelf, if I wasn’t mistaken.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you that you haven’t practiced magic for quite some time now.”

I nodded but said nothing, just ran my finger over the leather backings of the spell books.

“And I know you’re upset.”

I wasn’t that upset. Doing nothing would make me upset. Actually, I felt pretty good. I was finally putting my own selfish needs aside.

“But we should talk about any spells you might be planning.”

Aha! There it was. I pulled the heavy book from the shelf and ran back to the kitchen. This would get me the answers I needed.

The voice from the attic droned on. “Yes, we have all been hoping you would take up magic again.”

Exactly, I didn’t know what my uncle was complaining about. I laid a tablecloth on the counter and started piling all that I had collected on top of it.

“But we did not mean for you to take it back up like this. Not when you’re upset. Not when your magic is upset. And especially not alone.”

“Do you want to come down and help me?”

As soon as I’d said the words, I regretted them.

Silence followed.

“I’m sorry, Gideon. I shouldn’t have said that. But I am doing this.”

I wrapped up the tablecloth and slung it over my shoulder.