“Wait, what? The town square? When? What if I’m still following this one?”

Gideon shot me a pointed look.

“Right. You had a vision.”

“Actually,” my uncle said, “it wasn’t quite a vision. I had been writing haikus when I noticed they were all about you and fires and—we don’t have time for this! Go!” My uncle rushed away into the darkness, his staff propelling him along.

This was bad. This was very bad.

I raced over to the little fire and once again stomped it out, casting a look up the street.

No sign of Liz.

Everything in me wanted to race after her. The spell had worked. Maybe just a little too well. Obviously, my magic and I still had some issues to work out.

The fire popped up again.

I watched the small flames swell to the size of a pumpkin. The fire danced and twirled and then, unbelievably, it somehow grew two little flame hands, which it planted on its two little flame hips, and it waggled at me. Like it was mocking me!

“Why you little . . .” I ran over and jumped on it with two feet, letting out a small shout of frustration.

The fire popped up again a moment later, and this time, instead of dancing, it gave me a cheeky little wink.

• • •

The little fire kept me busy for at least half an hour. Every time I stamped it out, it popped back up. It never seemed to tire. In fact, it seemed to be having a wonderful time hopping from house to house, leading me around town like some sort of blazing Pied Piper.

I was so focused on the fire, afraid I’d lose sight of it, I didn’t even realize it when I reached the town square, not until I heard the clack of a wooden staff hitting the pavement behind me.

“Gideon, please tell me you were able to get all the fires out.”

He nodded and came to stand beside me. We both looked down at the small fire swirling just before the steps of the town gazebo. “Now it’s time to take care of this one.”

The fire looked back at us suspiciously.

“I keep stomping on it, but it just pops back up.”

“Mm-hmm,” Gideon said. “I think we need another approach.” My uncle muttered something under his breath, then hit the sidewalk with his staff.

A second later, a raindrop hit my nose. Then another.

I looked back down at the little fire still shining brightly until a small downpour fell directly on its head.

The fire crackled and spit, then let out a noise that sounded an awful lot like a disappointed aww before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

“I guess that takes care of that.”

I looked at my uncle. “Couldn’t we just have started with the rain?”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “No, we could not. I had to make sure all the other fires were completely out first, or this one never would have extinguished. Are you really questioning my methods right now?”