Aden Dragunis arrived in Raven’s Creek late one Sunday in September in the wake of a southerly squall fresh from the Antarctic. His early arrival sent a flurry of whispers out on the wind and before the sun had set, nearly everyone who was anyone in the small town knew he had arrived and was booked into Room 22 at Raven’s Creek’s Inn.
Aden wasted no time. He lifted the window latch with the flick of a wrist, pushed it open, and stared out and down the main street into the epicenter of Raven’s Creek. Crisp, cool air assailed and grounded him. Focused, he cast a locating spell and found his target within seconds. Magic fairly sparkled down the short lane where the sisters resided. All was as it should be, he acknowledged, so he paused to inspect the quality and luminosity of their skills. A protection spell like no other deserved his grudging appreciation. Closing his eyes, he went inward, connecting with his inner sight before tracing the intricate network of ley lines threading the entire street. With stealth, his magical nature and superior ability helped him evade the security network protecting their homes.
Ah, yes. Magnificent.
Three cottages.
Three witches.
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