Page 29 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
My heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in her voice, the desperate need for reassurance that I could hear beneath her brave facade. I pulled her into a fierce, protective hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo and the wild, earthy smell that all shifters carried.
"You won't lose me, Paige. I promise you that," I saidfirmly, meaning every word. "I've survived this long being the town's paraiah. I'm not about to let some pureblood extremist take me down now."
She cast one last worried glance between me and Callum before nodding and settling into a comfortable pace beside us as we continued down the long, winding road toward Gran's house. The chill in the evening air seemed to intensify as we walked, as if something supernatural was responding to our conversation with displeasure. A shudder ran up my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Callum's hand landed gently on my shoulder, warm and steadying through the fabric of my jacket. He leaned in close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear as he whispered, "She'll be alright, Sage. You've protected her well, and we'll figure this out together."
For just a moment, I allowed myself to draw comfort from his presence, to remember what it felt like to share burdens with someone who understood the weight of responsibility. But then reality crashed back over me like a cold wave.
I shrugged off his touch, ignoring the way my skin tingled at the brief contact and the way my body wanted to lean into his warmth. "We need to get to Gran's house as quickly as possible," I said, my voice perhaps a bit sharper than necessary. "If Beverly really is magically displaced rather than dead, and if this is connected to the pureblood movement like we suspect, then we don't have any time to waste."
"Agreed," Callum said quietly, falling back into stepbeside me as we resumed our trek toward Bertie's house on the outskirts of town.
Cosmo padded silently at my heels, his earlier playfulness replaced by grim alertness as he scanned the surrounding woods for potential threats.
As the quaint shops and manicured lawns of Main Street gave way to dense woods and winding dirt roads, the full weight of our task settled heavily on my shoulders like a lead blanket. Girls were missing, possibly trapped in some kind of magical prison, and the whole town thought I was responsible. The pureblood movement might be making a comeback, targeting innocent mixed-heritage families who had trusted Old Hollows to be a safe haven.
But with Callum's investigative skills, Paige's spirit sight, and Gran's decades of magical knowledge, maybe we stood a chance of unraveling this mystery before anyone else got hurt. Maybe we could save those girls and prove that Old Hollows' most feared witch was actually one of the good guys.
I glanced sidelong at Callum as we walked, taking in the determined set of his jaw and the keen intelligence sparking in his green eyes as he surveyed our surroundings for potential threats or clues. For all the heartbreak and complicated history between us, I couldn't deny that he was a damned good investigator. His presence made me feel less alone in this fight, even if I wasn't ready to admit that out loud.
Right now, that was exactly what I needed: a competent partner, not a painful reminder of my romantic past. I could compartmentalize my feelings and focus on the task at hand. I had to.
Thirteen
Sage
The old Victorian mansion loomed into view, its ivy-covered siding tugging at something tender within me. Gran's house had always been my sanctuary, a place where I could shed the armor of being Old Hollows' pariah and just be Sage. But as we approached the wraparound porch with Paige and Cosmo behind us, I couldn't shake the growing dread that had been building all day. Darkness had been creeping toward Old Hollows for weeks now, and not even Gran's protective wards could keep it at bay forever.
I climbed the creaking wooden steps, each board groaning under our weight with the familiarity of a thousand childhood visits. I raised my hand to knock on the ornate front door, but before my knuckles could connect with the polished wood, it swung open as if responding to my presence.
Gran stood there in the doorway, her silver hair piled atop her head in an elegant twist that defied both gravityand her considerable age. Her keen blue eyes, still sharp as cut glass despite her years, took in our little group with a mixture of curiosity and growing concern. She wore her favorite lavender cardigan, the one she claimed brought out her eyes, and there was flour dusting her hands from whatever she'd been baking.
"Sage, darling," she said, her voice warm as honey and twice as soothing. "And Paige too, what a pleasant surprise." Her maternal gaze slid to Callum, and I watched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arch delicately. "I see you've brought company."
There was something in her tone, a careful neutrality that made me wonder exactly how much she already knew about why we were here. Gran had always had an uncanny ability to sense trouble before it knocked on her door.
"Gran, this is Callum Renshaw," I said, trying to keep my voice firm and professional despite the way my heart hammered every time I looked at him. "He's a High Council investigator. He’s here about the missing girls. You met once before, at my graduation."
"Ah yes, I remember you," she said, her voice going flat as her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Something flickered in Gran's expression, recognition, disappointment, maybe even anger, gone too quickly for me to fully decipher. She stepped aside with practiced grace, ushering us into the warm foyer filled with the scents of baking bread and dried herbs. "Well then, you'd best come in. I had a feeling this wasn't a conversation meant for the front stoop."
We followed her through the unchanged hallways lined with family portraits and magical artifacts, finallysettling into the cozy living room that had been the site of countless family gatherings and important conversations throughout my life. The floral-printed sofa and mismatched antique armchairs welcomed us like old friends. Gran waved her hand with casual elegance, and a proper tea service appeared on the polished coffee table, steam curling invitingly from the delicate porcelain pot.
She poured each of us a cup with the practiced movements of someone who had been performing this ritual for decades, the soothing ceremony helping to settle my increasingly frayed nerves. The tea was her special blend, chamomile and lavender with just a hint of something magical that always made me feel more centered.
"Now." I didn't know who to watch. Gran, who fixed Callum with the piercing stare I knew all too well, the one that said 'I can see right through whatever mask you're wearing,' or Callum, who stood bravely at my side as if he hadn't broken my heart all those years ago. "What brings a High Council investigator to my doorstep, looking into missing girls with my granddaughter in tow? And the very same young man who broke her heart all those years ago, no less," Gran finished; her words hit with surgical precision.
I saw Callum flinch slightly before squaring his shoulders. To his credit, he met her gaze steadily, not trying to hide from her obvious disapproval.
"Mrs. Blackstone, I'm here because I believe these disappearances are connected to something far more sinister than the local council realizes. Something that might have deep roots in Old Hollows' history with the pureblood movement." He ran his hands through his hair,mussing the dark blond strands, one of his nervous tells that I remembered with aching clarity. "And as for the other matter, all I can say is that I'm truly sorry for the pain I caused."
"It's not me you need to apologize to, boy," Gran snapped, her eyes holding a hardness that spoke of her many centuries of life and the battles she'd fought to protect those she loved. "You'd better fix what you broke before it's too late."
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant by that cryptic warning, but Callum nodded so quickly and seriously that the moment passed. Gran turned her sharp, assessing gaze to me, and I felt like I was ten years old again, caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
"Did you want to tell me something, Gran?" I asked carefully, studying her face for clues about what she might be thinking.
Her eyes shifted away from mine for just a moment, and the weight of unspoken secrets hung heavy in the air before she gestured for us to settle in properly. "Paige, dear, would you mind fetching some extra napkins from the kitchen? And perhaps grab the sugar cubes from the pantry?"
