Page 116 of No Charm Done

He looked genuinely moved at the comment. “Thank you.”

“One thing, though,” she added, not unkindly, “this get-up is not how we dress. Poor man, are you under the impression that that is how we dress?”

“Scarlett’s handiwork,” Luna explained.

“Ahh, I see.” Aphra nodded. “Well. That’s how you know she loves you.”

Luna tried to steer him toward a relatively quiet corner, but it was hopeless. Friends swarmed all around. Polly leaned in with some off-color jokes about time-travel romance novels, and the Earls clapped Elias on his sore shoulder until he visibly winced. Belinda hugged him, announcing she’d known that Mr. Elias Shaw was a hero all along. Through it all, Luna was hyperaware of his physical presence beside her. She couldn’t stop touching him. A hand on his arm. Her shoulder against his side. Fingers linked with his.

He’s here. He’s alive. He’s mine. The thought kept repeating, a steady drumbeat to the melody of the chaotic brunch.

She caught Mama watching them from across the room, her expression unreadable. Kelly Melrose saw everything, always had, and right now she was looking at Luna and Shaw like she was cataloging data for future reference. Kelly stood up, and the room gradually settled.

“Thank you all for coming.” Her voice cut through the remaining conversations with the ease of someone who’d spent decades wrangling three strong-willed daughters. “I know we’re all recovering from yesterday, but there’s something we need to discuss. As you may know, before yesterday’s demonstration, I spent considerable time reaching out to magicians. We had been advised to seek their help with Ashton Vex. And seek I did. I contacted dozens of them. Every single one refused.”

A ripple of reaction moved through the room: a bit of angry muttering, a few resigned sighs.

“Some were polite about it. Most were . . . less so. In any case, we went into this crisis alone. And that’s unacceptable. This endless feud between witches and magicians must end.”

Aphra nodded slowly, her expression grave. “Old wounds fester if they’re never cleaned.”

“Or maybe they’re just jerks, and we should stop inviting them to anything,” Polly said.

“I’m with Polly but with more profanity,” Scarlett added.

Delilah looked torn. “We can’t keep fighting each other like this. Someone has to be the one to try to fix it.”

“Exactly,” Kelly said. “And that someone is going to be us. First, we need to understand what really happened—not lore, not old tales that get repeated over and over, but the truth. From there, we’ll figure out who needs to make amends and what that might look like.”

The room went quiet again, but this time it was thoughtful, considering.

“I’m not naive,” she continued. “I know this won’t be easy. I know some magicians will never come around. But we have to try. We have to mend what our ancestors broke.”

Luna watched Shaw. He was very deliberately looking at the floor, his jaw tight, clearly trying to make himself smaller. She squeezed his hand gently. He squeezed back but didn’t look up.

Everyone understood, Luna thought. Shaw wasn’t responsible for centuries of magician–witch animosity. The last thing he wanted was to be the “representative magician” in whatever reconciliation process Mama was proposing. He’d already done enough.

“We’ll talk more about this in the coming days,” Kelly said. “For now, I just wanted everyone to know where we stand. Yesterday was a victory, no question. But it wasn’t a complete victory. And we have work to do.”

She sat down, and the room gradually resumed its previous noise level; conversations picking up, Zahir swooping in with more food, the comfortable chaos of a community that had survived something together.

Luna was about to suggest to Elias that they make their escape when the room went silent again. But not gradually this time. Instantly. Like someone had hit a mute button on the entire building.

Louise Demain materialized beside the Bloody Mary bar. She was suddenly just there, just present. As if she’d stepped through the seams of time instead of using the door like a normal person.

People instinctively backed up. Even Mama went rigid, her coffee mug pausing halfway to her lips.

Naturally, Louise paid no attention to the reaction she’d caused. She focused entirely on the creation of what was certain to be a time-bending cocktail. A glass floated from the stack. Vodka poured itself. Tomato juice followed. Garnishes began arranging themselves with geometric precision: an olive here, a pickle there, a spicy shrimp levitating into place.

Kelly cleared her throat. “Louise.”

The time witch didn’t look up. “Kelly.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kelly said, not sounding especially so. “I wanted to thank you, for bringing your friend to our aid. Without Chuck, whom we know as Myrna, yesterday could have gone very differently.”

“Myrna the Accumulator required little encouragement. Mortal hubris provides her endless sustenance.” Louise finally turned, and her gaze swept across the room with the casual interest of someone observing insects wriggling under glass. “The one called Vex dwells in the Garden of Perpetual Regard. He wished for attention. Myrna the Accumulator provides, eternally.” Her eyes flicked in Luna’s direction. “Melrose welp: do you recall the pleasant afternoon you spent in an Angstloch?”

Luna shuddered, nodded, and to Elias’s questioning expression, she whispered, “Medieval fear hole.”