Page 25 of Dragon's Midlife Secret Baby
“You just called yourself old,” her mother teased right back. “Yes, some people do change. I don’tthink we should waste our time trying to be the ones to change them, though, which was exactly why I left him in the first place. He cared much more about advancing magic and diving deeper into learning new powers than improving his life. That didn’t work for me then, but I’m hoping we can use it to our advantage now. Shall we?”
Together, they stepped up onto the porch, avoiding the hole in the third step. The storm door sounded like it was going to fall off its hinges as they pulled it open. There was no doorbell, so Maeve knocked.
They were met with complete silence. Maeve knocked again, and the two women exchanged worried glances. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t need to. If Sol were a dead end, they’d consult with some other covens. It was doubtful they knew anyone who could create the sort of spell Beck had been put under.
After a third knock, Maeve sighed. “I guess no one lives here anymore. Let’s get back home and look at our other options.”
Just as they were making their way back down the steps, a long, slow creak sounded behind them. “Maeve?”
A man about her mother’s age stoodin the doorway, tall and thin as a rail. Dark eyes stared out of a gaunt face with a crooked nose. He wore a long, tunic-style shirt over loose pants, and a deep red pendant rested against his chest on a long chain.
“Sol, how good to see you.” Maeve put on a sweet smile as she headed back up onto the porch.
Chelsea recognized that smile as the one her mother wore when pretending to be nice. What had actually transpired between the two of them? She wouldn’t be the one to ask, at least not until this whole fiasco was over with.
Sol, however, made no effort to pretend. His mouth was a hard, straight line, and his eyes watched her as though he expected her to try something sneaky. If he noticed her looks at all, he was an expert at hiding it. “What are you doing here?”
So much for a happy reunion.
“We need your help,” Maeve admitted.
One side of his mouth twisted up into a sneer. “Myhelp? Are you trying to say that your low magic is no longer serving you? That groveling around in the weeds and gazing at the moon isn’t getting you the results you wanted?”
Hoo, boy. Her mother had dodged a bullet by getting away from this guy.
Despite his arrogance, Maeve persisted. “It’s a very important matter, and it might even be one that will concern you if it gets out of hand.”
“I highly doubt it,” he scoffed. He noticed Chelsea as if for the first time, even though she’d been standing there all along, and narrowed his eyes. “Your daughter?”
“Yes, this is Chelsea. Please, Sol. I won’t take up much of your time. I just need a little information.”
Sol flipped his gaze up in what was nearly an eye-roll. “All right, but I only have a few minutes. Come in, and don’t touch anything.”
How charming. They followed him into the house, which wasn’t much better on the inside. The lighting was dim, barely doing anything to fight off the drizzly day. The place smelled old and musty, and a thick layer of dust covered the table in the entryway.
As they moved into the living room, it was obvious that this was where Sol must’ve spent most of his time. Books were lined up on shelves and stacked on tables. None of them were dusty, suggesting he was actually using them. A large tome sat open on the coffee table, and a fountain pen sat cradled between thethick pages.
Sol snatched it up and shut the book before either one of the witches had a chance to look at it. “Have a seat.”
Chelsea sat beside her mother on a loveseat that looked like it’d seen better days. Maeve wasn’t a snob by any means. She enjoyed thrifted furniture and finding ways to use what they already had, but it was impossible to imagine her living in a setting like this. Chelsea was desperate to ask more questions, but they’d have to wait. Rehashing her mom’s love life wasn’t exactly the reason they were there.
“Sol, I need your help.”
“So you said.” He sat in an armchair across from them. Resting his elbows on the arms, he steepled his fingers just under his chin.
Maeve’s eyes fluttered, and Chelsea guessed she was working hard to retain her composure.
“A friend of ours was put under a very powerful spell. We need to find the person who cast it, and I thought you might know. I don’t believe anyone who travels in my circles would be capable of such a thing.”
Sol let out a light snort. “Probably not, if it was really that powerful. Then again, if you’re dealing with something that strong, you might be entirely out of your element to begin with.”
“We managed to break it,” Chelsea countered. Her mother’s fingers pinched her leg, but she ignored it. Why should they let this guy talk to them like that? “It was a rather complicated spell, one that could’ve easily been confused for a drugging or an injury, so it wasn’t easy to detect or to break, but we did.”
The old man let out a long, impatient sigh. “Well, good for you. It doesn’t sound like it could really be that complicated, not if you managed to break it. And if youdid, why do you need to bother finding the person who cast it? It’s over with.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t,” Maeve said, her voice steady and measured.
“Fine. If I’ve already gone to the trouble of bringing you in here, you might as well tell me what it was. It’s probably just some second-rate witch in one of these local shops, selling spells for a few bucks. Disgusts me.”
