Page 11 of Fresh Old Bounties

A witch was meant to help her community, and sometimes that required secrecy. Who would trust me if I babbled my clients’ secrets to my bounty hunter boyfriend? Key might not exactly be a client, but she was under my protection, and that was even more important.

“Who could want it?” I reached down to pet Fluffy, who was pawing insistently at my leg.

“The list is probably long,” he answered with some amusement.

He had a point. Any number of people could be interested in Bagley’s spellbook—frenemies, other dark witch competition, old clients. For all I knew, there was a healthy underground market for dead dark witches’ spellbooks.

“Just tell them no,” he added. “Or be honest and explain you destroyed it so someone else doesn’t contact you again.”

As if. “They’d never believe that.”

“You did destroy it, didn’t you?” he insisted, slightly suspicious.

I crossed my chest. “Scouts’ honor.”

“Were you a scout?”

“In my heart of hearts.”

Ian snorted, a smile playing with his lips.

“You think they’ll go away if I say no?” I asked.

“I’m sure Bagley received offers too. Use her reputation to your advantage.”

“Don’t bother me again or I’ll slip snakes into your toilet?”

His rare boyish grin made an appearance. “Something like that.”

I wasn’t completely reassured, but he made excellent points. Whoever wanted the spellbook would have to go elsewhere for their dark magic fix.

For a few moments, I toyed with the idea of setting up a trap for the bounty hunters to catch this person and rid the streets from another dark magic user, but discarded the thought. If they got caught, bounty hunters might tell the Council about their claims of Bagley being a dark witch, and that’d open another whole can of worms that would end up with me out of a job at best and in Council jail at worst.

Being a good witch in a dark magic world really sucked some days.

Trying to distract myself, I studied Ian’s cozy living room. It looked no different from the last time I’d been here a couple of days ago.

“You haven’t put up decorations yet.”

“It’s early for Christmas, don’t you think?”

I smacked his arm playfully. “Halloween!”

“Ah.” He paused. “No.”

“No, what?” I asked, all innocence.

“I’m not opening the cemetery for Halloween tours.”

My pout of disappointment and sadness could’ve won contests. “But the strays will be so disappointed. They want to play Garreth so badly.”

“They can take it up with the pack.”

Hutton’s young shifters were in charge of making scary appearances as Garreth the Hound at strategic Olmeda spots during Halloween. It was a very contested role.

“And Key was so eager to redeem herself by giving the tours.” I lowered my voice to a pleading whine. “She could really use a win.” Especially considering how her last attempt at giving a tour had gone.

“I’m sure they can fit her at the haunted house. They’re always short on people,” Ian answered like the emotionless bounty hunter bastard many thought him to be.

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