I walked in the next day to find Vaarg behind his desk, clipboard in hand, sipping his mug of greenish bubbling goo, like nothing had happened.

  What terrified me the most was the feeling of relief he was back.

  “You’re late,” he grunted without looking up.

  “You’re early,” I retorted.

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look up from his clipboard.

  I thought there might have been a hint of a smile behind his mug.

  Then that was it.

  No mention of AP.

  No mention of Runes or magic.

  No…nothing.

  Just a casual sip of whatever probably-corrosive substance he was enjoying, and back to work.

  I hovered by the shelf a little longer than necessary, waiting. For a sign. A wink.

  A “hey, how about that magic, eh?”

  But there was nothing.

  And I didn’t bring it up either. Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t care.

  I just…didn’t. Maybe I was afraid of the answer.

  Maybe I was afraid there wouldn’t be one.

  Maybe I was just afraid it was a fluke.

  The bell over the door jingled before I could spiral too far. And then it groaned. And then something screeched.

  A gust of wind blew into the store hard enough to knock over the nearest cursed candle display. A cloaked figure stumbled in dragging a cart that looked like it had lost a fight with a lightning strike—and then kept going out of spite.

  He shoved the crate forward. It was bolted shut, wrapped in ominously glowing green runes, and faintly vibrating.

  The figure drew back his hood to reveal a gnome, hair somehow perfectly sculpted even after taking off his hood.

  Showoff, I muttered.

  “Delivery for… store,” he chimed, voice low and sandpaper-rough.

  Vaarg didn’t even look up. “Just drop it in the hole.”

  “What hole?”

  A hole opened up right next to the gnome, causing him to jump - followed by a shriek.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “That one.”

  The gnome looked at the hole, then the box, then the hole, then me - as if I was going to get pulled into this - and shrugged.

  He wholesale shoved the box in.

  I heard it crash a moment later before the hole sealed itself.

  The delivery gnome turned to leave, then paused at the door as another gust howled past hard enough to pick up a gnome across the street and send him spinning.

  I could feel the poor guy pale.

  “Storm’s gettin’ bad,” he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter. “My hood’s useless in this wind. Got two more stops and I ain’t keen on bein’ converted into a weather balloon.”

  Vaarg sipped his poison. “Hold still.”

  The delivery guy blinked.

  Holding up a finger, Vaarg traced something into the air. A soft pulse shimmered out and settled over the gnome like a second skin.

  “There. Wind-dance charm. Should last… three hours? Four if you don’t sneeze.”

  My brain stalled.

  Just kind of gave up.

  Vaarg just cast a full-blown spell with the same effort most people use to adjust their glasses.

  And—what the hell—was that… kindness?

  The gnome blinked. “Uh…Appreciated.” He reached into his belt and dropped a strip of dried frog jerky onto Vaarg’s desk like a tip.

  “You’re a lifesaver.”

  He tightened his cloak and pulled up his hood before pulling on the door.

  The door slammed shut.

  I stood there, still trying to process…everything.

  I turned to Vaarg. “Did you just—”

  He raised a finger, silencing me. “Watch.”

  Outside, the wind picked up again—hard. I watched through the grimy front window as the delivery guy rounded the corner… and then lifted two feet off the ground.

  He hovered.

  Like a wind-powered barge.

  “WAIT, WHAT THE HELL?!” I heard him yell. “YOU SAID THIS WOULD BLOCK THE WIND!”

  And then he spun.

  Gracefully.

  Elegantly.

  Like a ship that had filed for bankruptcy in the face of physics.

  Or a ballerina.

  Who had imbibed a dozen cups of coffee.

  I watched him pirouette over the housetops.

  Vaarg took another sip and smacked his lips.

  This time? I could definitely see the smile.

  Correction. He had just cast a spell with the effort most people took to adjust their glasses - for the sake of being awful.

  Maybe it was the drink that made him such a horrible creature?

  I also didn’t like the fact I found it slightly funny.

  I would not be corrupted by these nut jobs.

  “I don’t recall ever saying it would stop the wind.”

  I just…stared at him.

  He stared at me.

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

  Wind. Dance. Charm.

  “You’re not gonna explain anything, are you?”

  “About the delivery?” he asked, tilting his head. “The spell? The new girl in Aisle Six?”

  There was a pause.

  “The what?”

  Vaarg grinned, just slightly. “No.”

  “Oh and Anything? Down Aisle Eight.”

  I’d take my chances with Snappy.

  Also we do have a !