Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

“I’m not bristling,” he murmured back. “I’m perfectly welcoming.”

The man was probably in his sixties, with dark brown skin warmed by a reddish undertone, and silver hair, cut short and half hidden by a light-colored fedora. His curly beard was silver as well, but his mustache was still salt and pepper. He was slightly shorter than average, with a trim build, shown off by a double-breasted gray suit, which he paired with a pomegranate-red shirt. He looked at the world through a pair of glasses with reddish-copper frames, and his eyes were narrow and shrewd.

The woman next to him wore a yellow tank top and a high-waisted black skirt. A large tote bag rested by her feet. She turned toward me and smiled. Solina.

“Is that one of the mermaids you rescued?” Curran asked.

“Mhm.”

We reached the table, and both visitors stood up. Solina came around and hugged me. I gently hugged her back.

“You look well,” I told her.

“Thank you. This is my grand-uncle, Edward Calloway. Grand-uncle, this is Kate and Curran.”

Edward Calloway offered us his hand. “Please call me Ned.”

Curran and I shook his hand in turn, and we all sat back down at the table.

Interesting. I didn’t know Ned Calloway personally, but I knew of him. I first noticed the name because I kept seeing it on Paul’s materials invoices during the renovations. I finally asked him about it. According to our general contractor, Ned Calloway was a “smart man who’s done very well for himself.” He owned many enterprises in everything from lumber and furniture to textiles and dual-engine car manufacturing. A lot of businesses in and around Wilmington carried the Calloway name.

“Your iced tea is delicious,” Ned Calloway said. “What is it sweetened with?”

“Buckwheat honey,” Conlan said. Thanks to his werebear grandparents, my son was a honey connoisseur.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Ned said. “My grand-niece told me a lot about you. Thank you for saving this child. Our family is grateful.”

“It was a fortunate accident,” I said. “I was looking for a different child.”

“You found Solina anyway. I should’ve come to thank you sooner, but I was occupied by an emergency. I have a summer home in Carolina Beach. We’re practically neighbors.”

They didn’t come here just to thank us, but rushing this conversation would only slow it down to the speed of cold molasses, so I settled in.

“That’s good to hear,” Curran said. “We’ve only recently moved in, so we don’t know that many people. It’s always good to meet a neighbor.”

Ned smiled. “We are the welcoming sort. I’m sure you’ll be a part of our community in no time.”

Where was this going?

“Our family is from Penderton,” Ned said. “That’s not where we started, but where we ended up before Solina’s parents and I moved on to Wilmington.”

Penderton was a small town somewhere north of Wilmington.

“Where did you start?” I asked.

“My parents are from Wallace,” Ned said. “They grew up with little means, married young, and my sister and I were born in Wallace, in an old farmhouse. My father had a head for business. He started in reclamations, then moved on to construction, and did well there. They bought a bigger home in town, but then the forest came.”

“And ate the towns,” Solina said.

Ned nodded. “Until about thirty years ago, that area was mostly fields, vineyards, and horse farms, with several small towns sprinkled in. Burgaw, St. Helena, Ivanhoe… Then woods started growing and there was no stopping them. The forest pushed people together. Smaller villages were abandoned, and Burgaw and St. Helena merged into Penderton.”

A typical scenario that had played out all over the United States. Magic hated technology and high buildings, but it loved and nurtured plants. Trees grew like weeds, merging into massive forests that spawned things with scary teeth. People quickly realized that safety lay in numbers and sturdy town walls.

“Now, Momma didn’t want to leave Wallace. Her family had been there for many generations. The family cemetery was there. The church where we were baptized was there. It didn’t feel right to abandon that history,” Ned said. “But they couldn’t stay. To make the move easier, my father built their dream house in Penderton.”

“It’s a beautiful house,” Solina said. “Memaw still lives there, and Grandma takes care of her.”

“After my father passed, I tried to get them to move to Wilmington,” Ned said. “But Momma wouldn’t leave. Now they’re trapped there. I love these cookies. I’m a sucker for sweets, and I have to say, these are special.”

He dropped it very casually. Yes, my mother and sister are trapped; wow, these are great cookies.

“Good cookies are an essential food group,” Curran said. “My wife is a great cook.”

“I thought these were homemade. They just have that special touch of something.”

“I’ll pack you a batch for the road,” I told him.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose.” Ned shook his head.

“I have made too many anyway. So why can’t your mother and sister leave?”

“Because of the evil in the woods,” Solina said.