Page 38 of Board Games and Broomsticks

Pushing that particular thought (and the way it made her heart swell) aside, Nyssa got to her feet. ‘Once I’m done, I’ll start looking for a spell to contain the owl … creature … thing. Maybe then Alaric can try to determine its intentions whilst I search for the source of its magic. If someone did send it, we’ll find out.’

Elowen nodded. ‘I’ll keep watch from the window – if it does manage to break through the wards, I’ll do what I can to slow it down. And in the meantime, I’ll put on some calming tea. Deities knows, we could both use some.’

It was something Nyssa’s old coven members would have never even considered; it was unnecessary, a task that would only take time away from the job at hand. Yes, they’d have helped her trap the owl and taken care of her physical wounds, but her mental ones? Those would be left untended to by anyone but her.

Not any more, she thought, as Elowen retrieved the jar of Nyssa’s favourite blend from the cupboard. Such a simple gesture, and yet it gave Nyssa the surge of resolve she needed to begin checking her grandma’s wards. Like her grimoire, they still carried the faint aroma of her magic, sweet and comforting, and Nyssa breathed it in as she checked each one.

She was halfway through when her gaze snagged on Familiars lying open on her living-room table.

Nyssa’s heart thudded to a stop. Since Morven had been turned into clay and sucked into the game, Nyssa hadn’t risked opening it. So either someone else had – or Morven Delamorte had already managed to escape.

Nyssa’s lungs constricted as she rushed over to the table, willing it to not be true. The three protective crystals were still in place around the box. Surely he couldn’t have …?

She began frantically searching through the figurines in search of the warlock. The cat was still there, as was the wolf, and the raven, and—

Air rushed back into her lungs as she found Morven stored in the small compartment with the rest of the figurines. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch him, to reassure herself that he was still nothing but clay and magic, but the thought of him taking advantage of the connection to somehow use his own twisted power on her had her folding the board up and packing the game away instead.

She was just about to put the board game – and Morven – back into its box when her gaze drifted back for a final look at the figurines. As they always did when her witch instincts were trying to tell her something, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and her fingertips hummed with the dormant energy of her magic. Look, it said.

At first, Nyssa thought her magic was urging her to study Morven again. Nyssa cast her eyes over his figurine-likeness, searching for any signs of the warlock’s magic seeping through. He was exactly as she’d left him, and yet … Something still wasn’t right. It was like she was looking at a jigsaw without all its pieces, but she couldn’t figure out which ones were missing.

At least, not until a loud screech came from outside, and the reason why that damned owl looked so familiar finally clicked in Nyssa’s mind.

It can’t be …

Being careful not to touch the Morven figure with her skin, Nyssa wrapped him in a handkerchief to set him aside and frantically began searching through the rest of the figurines: the cat, the wolf, the bear, the raven, the small witch-like figurine that had always reminded Nyssa of her grandmother. There was only one figure missing.

The owl.

Nyssa let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. The crystals surrounding the game were still intact, glowing faintly with her warding magic, and yet there was no way a large, magically enchanted owl attacking Nyssa on the same day her equally enchanted owl figurine had disappeared was a coincidence.

This is all your fault.

It had been a while since that inner voice had spoken, and Nyssa instinctively recoiled against it, her fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as footsteps sounded behind her.

‘Nyssa, what’s wrong?’

Elowen knelt on the floor beside her, and when she noticed the whiteness of Nyssa’s clenched knuckles, she placed a hand over Nyssa’s, thumb rubbing in a soothing, gentle circle. ‘Nys?’

Nyssa went to explain, but all that came out was, ‘I did this.’

Elowen’s brow furrowed. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The owl, it … it’s from the game. Whatever I did to Morven must have brought it to life somehow.’ It was just like the failed ritual all over again: another spell gone awry with dire consequences for those around her. If they hadn’t acted fast enough, then Elowen could have been hurt, or worse.

‘I should have kept the game with me. I should have strengthened the wards. I—’

‘Stop.’ Elowen grabbed Nyssa’s face, forcing her to look at the elf instead of the game. ‘You don’t know this is your fault; you said Morven has access to all sorts of magic – maybe he did this. Found some way of casting from within the confines of his … current state.’

It wasn’t impossible, and the magic Nyssa had felt coming from the owl had been familiar, but …

‘If he did this, it’s because I put him in there. It’s still my fault.’

‘You didn’t have a choice; if you hadn’t dealt with Morven when you did, who knows what kind of damage he’d have already caused to Nighthaven and its people? You did your best, and this … this is just a minor complication that we will deal with.’ Elowen brushed a strand of hair from Nyssa’s face, her thumb gently wiping away a stray tear just as Nyx came into the room and rubbed her head against Nyssa’s knee.

‘We can fix this; but right now, you need to get some rest.’ When Nyssa opened her mouth to protest, Elowen cut her off: ‘Don’t worry about the owl for now; it still hasn’t broken through the wards around the cottage grounds, and Nyx and I will keep watch during the night. You can go full badass witch on it tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to sleep and clear your head.’

Because if you try now, you’ll make a mistake.