Page 26 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
Callum flashed Cindee a charming smile that made me want to swoon and smack him at the same time. "Mind if we commandeer a table for a bit? Sage and I have some business to discuss, and I promise we'll try to keep the magical explosions to a minimum."
"By all means." Cindee waved us towards the back of the cafe with enthusiasm. "Take the corner table - it's the most private. I'll make sure you're not disturbed. And don't worry about the magical explosions. I've got insurance for that sort of thing now."
"Thanks, Cindee. You're a gem." I shot her a grateful look before leading the way to a secluded corner table, Cosmo and Callum trailing behind me like some kind of odd supernatural parade.
The table was tucked into an alcove surrounded by tall windows that looked out onto the town square. From here, I could see the morning shoppers going about their business, seemingly oblivious to the dark undercurrent that had settled over Old Hollows. A missing person flyer for Beverly was already taped to the window across the street, her bright smile a stark contrast to the growing atmosphere of fear and suspicion.
As we settled into the worn wooden chairs, Callum pulled out a thick file folder from his leather satchel, the kind of official-looking case file that screamed High Council business. He spread crime scene photos and witness statements across the table with practiced efficiency, each document carefully organized and labeled.
I leaned forward, studying each piece of evidence with a critical eye. The photos showed normal-looking locations around Old Hollows - the library, the diner, various residential streets - but there was an emptiness to them that spoke of lives interrupted, of girls who should have made it home safely but hadn’t.
"So, what do we know so far?" I asked, keeping my voice low to avoid being overheard by the other customers. The last thing I needed was more gossip spreading about me conspiring with mysterious investigators.
I quickly pulled my magic to the surface, stars and darkness flickering around my fingertips. Gasps filteredthrough the café as I twisted my finger and whispered the incantation, weaving a sound barrier around our table. Now we could speak freely without worrying about eavesdroppers.
Callum raked his fingers through his tangled hair, his jaw clenched tight with frustration. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the scattered papers, a deep furrow etched between his brows like he was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. "Not nearly enough, unfortunately. The girls all vanished without a trace. No signs of struggle, no ransom demands, no witnesses who saw anything useful. It's like they just disappeared into thin air."
I frowned, tapping a finger against my lips as I processed the information. "And the only connection was their shifter blood?"
He nodded grimly, his expression growing darker. "As far as we can tell, yes. All five girls had at least some shifter ancestry, which points to a targeted attack rather than random kidnappings. Someone is specifically hunting girls with mixed heritage."
"But who would want to abduct half-shifter girls? And for what purpose?" The questions churned in my mind like a dark storm, pieces of a sinister puzzle I couldn't quite fit together. "It's not like they're particularly valuable in the magical black market. If anything, their dual nature makes them harder to control or exploit."
Callum's green eyes met mine, and I saw something ancient and haunted flickering in their depths. "I have a theory, but you're not going to like it."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair with arms crossed. "Since when have I ever shied away from unpleasant truths? Lay it on me, Renshaw. I'm a big girl. I can handle whatever conspiracy theory you've cooked up."
He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I've been looking over the town's history, going back several decades. Old Hollows wasn't always known for being open to other supernatural species. When your grandmother first proposed integrating shifters into the community, there was significant pushback from certain factions."
I nodded slowly. This wasn't news to me. Gran had told me stories about the early days, the resistance she'd faced when trying to create a truly inclusive magical community. "Surely you don't think the town council or founding families have something to do with this?"
"There was a pureblood movement that had begun to gain traction through the witch communities back then," Callum continued, his voice dropping even lower. "They were finding support in other communities across the country, trying to bring the witch communities back to 'traditional values' - meaning just witches and warlocks, no other species allowed. They also pushed for laws preventing magical folk from marrying outside their supernatural species."
I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the autumn weather. "Let me guess - they believed mixing bloodlines diluted magical power?"
"Exactly. They claimed it weakened the magical gene pool, made our children less powerful, less pure." He paused, watching my reaction carefully. "The movementlost momentum after some high-profile scandals and legal troubles, but it never completely disappeared."
I shook my head, thinking of the part-shifter children I'd known over the years. "That's complete nonsense. I've seen mixed-heritage kids with incredible power. Magic doesn't work that way - it's not about blood purity, it's about individual strength and family lineage. Some of the most powerful witches I know come from families that have been mixing bloodlines for generations."
"I know that, and you know that," Callum agreed. "But extremists don't care about facts. They care about ideology, about maintaining what they see as the 'natural order' of things."
I chewed on my bottom lip, pieces of a larger picture starting to form in my mind. "You think someone is trying to resurrect that twisted movement? By kidnapping mixed-heritage girls as some kind of twisted message?"
"It's a possibility we can't ignore," Callum said grimly. "The timing fits. These disappearances started not long after your grandmother stepped down from the council and Reid Bishop took over as head councilman. And Bishop's family has a documented history of pureblood sympathies."
The implications hit me like a physical blow. I thought of Paige, with her unique combination of witch and shifter abilities. Of Brexley, whose shifter grandmother made her a potential target. Of all the mixed-heritage families who had made Old Hollows their home, trusting that they were safe here.
"You've seen the symbol around town, right?" Callumasked, pulling out a photograph of a complex rune carved into stone.
A chill skittered down my spine as recognition dawned. "The rune outside Hexes and Brews," I mumbled softly as the memory surfaced - not just of seeing it recently, but of something else. Something that made my blood run cold. "Callum, I've seen this before. Years ago, before my parents died, my father had a paper on his desk with that exact symbol sketched out. He was researching something about it."
Callum went very still. "When was this?"
"About a month before their accident." The words came out as barely a whisper. "I remember asking him about it, but he just said it was old history, nothing for me to worry about."
The look Callum gave me was grave, full of implications I wasn't ready to face. "Sage, what if it wasn't an accident?"
I felt sick to my stomach at the thought. The pureblood movement had been a dark stain on our community's history, a hateful ideology that tore families apart and turned neighbor against neighbor. The thought of someone reviving it, of using it to target innocent girls like Paige and her friends, made my blood boil with rage.
