Page 7 of The Magic We Made

But I’ve been doing this a long time, and one thing I’ve learned is that not everyone who is missing wants to be found. Maybe they haven’t contacted their loved ones for a reason: Maybe they don’t like them. Maybe their dad, like mine, is a douchebag, and they don’t want to be found by him. Or maybe they just need a break.

That’s why my first question is always: “Are we sure theywantto be found?”

“Yes,” Guy said, tapping on the young woman’s photo. “It’s extremely out of character for her to disappear like this. And because she’s over eighteen and there’s no sign of foul play, the police don’t seem to be putting much effort into finding her.”

“Hmmm.” I’d stared down at the full-color photo. The headline “Witch Way Did She Go?”was emblazoned across it, a reference to the fact that Emma is known to be an enthusiastic follower of witchcraft and magic communities online.

“This is the one who disappeared in West Harbor.” I don’t follow the news too much, but even I had heard about this girl.

“Correct.”

“Why is she so special? I thought there were a bunch of girls who—”

“This one is family.” Guy’s hand smacked down onto Emma’s photo. “Second cousin, twice removed.”

“Doessheknow that?”

“I doubt it. But I’m told her parents are devastated.” Guy tapped on the photo. “So I want you to find her.”

“And we definitely think something bad happened to her? Because I’ve got to be honest, I get the feeling that she’s missing because shewantsto be, not because she’s being held against her—”

Guy was having none of that. “No.”Tap.“This has gone on long enough.”Double tap.“Find. Emma. Bridle.”

So that’s what I’m going to do. It’s kind of convenient, in a way. After all, I own a house in the same town in which Emma was last seen... a house that happens to be right next door to Dr. Francesca Giovanni, to whom it appears I owe an apology.

So in a way, I guess I should be thanking Mrs. Baumgarten. Because of her, it looks like I’m finally going to have an excuse to talk to Francesca Giovanni.

First though? I have to find Emma Bridle.

Emma

The campfire burns and crackles in the night air, casting our faces with a warm orange glow.

“If only we had some marshmallows,” I say, and a few of the other girls laugh, which is exactly what I wanted them to do.

But not Haley. Haley never laughs anymore.

“Is this funny to all of you?” she demands as she stands in front of the fire in her long white robe. “This is a coven, not summer camp. What we’re doing here is serious.”

“Sorry.” I should have known better. I’ve been trying hard to stay on Haley’s good side. I know what happens to people who don’t. “I was just joking. I mean, I do love s’mores, and it would be great if—”

“What would be great is if you stopped talking,” Haley says.

I shut up—but not before exchanging a look with Meg, sitting across the fire from me. She widens her eyes at me, sympathetic. She gets it.

For a long time we revered Haley, who can cast a glamour stronger than any witch’s I’ve ever seen, and has a plan for how to save our planet, which is spinning on a seemingly unstoppable path toward complete annihilation.

But now I feel a little afraid of her—and it’s not only because she says Hecate has spoken to her.

Hecate is one of the most powerful and mysterious goddesses of all time. She rules over magic, the moon, the Underworld, and more. The only goddess more powerful than Hecate is her great-great-grandmother, Gaia, the primordial mother goddess.

But it’s Hecate who is supposed to be the protector of witches.

Except that I haven’t felt protected in a long time. And neither—she confided in me the other night—does Meg.

“It isn’t Haley herself,” Meg whispered to me after the others, including Haley, had gone to sleep. “It’s thisplace. I think it’s doing something to her—maybe to all of us. And it isn’t anything good, as far as I can see.”

Meg could be right. I’ve done things since coming here that I would never, ever have done back in my old life. Things I’m not proud of. Things that—