Page 67 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
But even in my post-coital philosophical mood, the outside world had the audacity to intrude. The faint sounds of Old Hollows stirring to life after the night's chaos filtered through my carefully warded walls, a reminder that our personal reconciliation was just the beginning of what promised to be a very complicated future.
"As much as I'd love to spend the next several days exploring exactly how much we've both missed each other," I said, reluctantly disentangling myself from Callum's arms and sitting up, "we should probably start planning our next move. The High Council is here, and I'd prefer they not catch us in a compromising position. I have a reputation for evilness to maintain."
Callum propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes roaming appreciatively over my bare form with the kind of heated appreciation that suggested he was memorizing every detail. "You're right, as usual. But before we start plotting the downfall of magical bureaucracy, there's something I need to do."
He reached for his discarded pants with the determination of someone on a mission, fumbling in the pocket before producing a small velvet box that made my heart perform some truly acrobatic maneuvers.
"Oh," I said, staring at the box with the same fascination I might show a particularly interesting curse component. "That's either jewelry or a very small explosive device."
Callum's laugh was nervous ashe flipped the box open, revealing an antique ring with a single ruby that seemed to capture and hold the firelight like crystallized passion.
"Sage Blackstone," he began, his voice trembling with the kind of emotion that would have been embarrassing if it weren't so completely sincere, "I've been an idiot for five years, and I'd like to spend the rest of our lives making up for it. Will you marry me and help me figure out how to be worthy of the most magnificently terrifying witch I've ever known?"
I stared at him for a long moment, processing the surreal reality that the same night I'd been nearly burned at the stake, I was now receiving a marriage proposal from the man I'd cursed with magical erectile dysfunction.
"You know," I said thoughtfully, "most people would consider proposing to someone immediately after they've demonstrated their capacity for creative revenge magic to be poor decision-making."
"Most people," he replied with a grin that suggested he knew exactly what kind of chaos he was signing up for, "don't have the privilege of loving Sage Blackstone."
I felt something warm and dangerous unfurl in my chest, not the dark magic I'd grown accustomed to, but something infinitely more terrifying. Hope.
"Yes," I said simply, launching myself into his arms with enough force to knock him backward onto the bed. "Yes, you magnificent idiot. But I have conditions."
"Name them," he said, catching me and holding me close as if I might disappear if he loosened his grip.
"First, we're having a Halloween wedding. If I'm going to scandalize this town further, I'm doing it with style.Second, I want to be involved in the conspiracy investigation. Not as a witness, but as an active participant in bringing down every last magical supremacist who thinks blood purity justifies murder."
"Done and done," he agreed without hesitation. "What's the third condition?"
"I get to keep my underground lair. I've grown rather fond of having a secret base of operations, and it seems like the kind of thing a happily married couple might need for future adventures in vigilante justice."
As Callum slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt the ancient stone pulse with warmth that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the promise we were making to each other.
"There's something else you should know," he said, his expression growing serious in a way that suggested more revelations were coming. "About the High Council changes I mentioned. Your godfather, Dru Crowley, is positioning himself to take over the leadership."
I tilted my head, sorting through childhood memories that felt dusty with disuse. "My godfather? I have vague recollections of someone who used to visit my parents. Tall, dramatic, had a tendency to bring gifts that exploded?"
"That sounds like Crowley," Callum confirmed with amusement. "He's been working behind the scenes for years, building a coalition of progressives who want to reform the Council's approach to magical oversight. Your parents' case gave him the evidence he needed to start making serious changes."
"So you're saying that our recent amateur detectivework might have accidentally triggered a magical governmental revolution?" I asked with the kind of dark satisfaction that came from realizing your revenge had broader implications than originally planned.
"It's possible," he said carefully. "Which means the political landscape is going to be very different very soon. My contract with the Council is up in a few months, and with Crowley in charge, leaving early to pursue domestic happiness will probably be encouraged rather than penalized."
I considered this information, already calculating the possibilities. "I think I'd like to meet this godfather of mine. It's been far too long since I've had a proper conversation with someone who appreciates the finer points of magical chaos."
"I think he'd like that very much," Callum replied, his eyes bright with the kind of anticipation that suggested he was looking forward to introducing his fiancée to the magical equivalent of a revolutionary leader.
The weight of the ring on my finger felt both foreign and perfectly right, like a piece of myself I'd been missing without realizing it. But as I settled back against Callum's chest, I felt my characteristic grin spread across my face.
"Now that we're properly engaged," I purred, already feeling the familiar heat building between us again as I traced patterns across his chest, "I believe you mentioned something earlier about not needing to get rid of my buzzing bedroom accessories?"
His answering smile was pure sin and promise. "I believe I mentioned having plans for them that would indeed annoy your familiar."
"Excellent," I murmured, pressing my lips to his throat in a way that made him groan. "Because we have five years of separation to make up for, and I intend to collect every single moment of pleasure you owe me. With interest."
After all, I was still the wicked witch of Old Hollows. And now I had my warlock exactly where he belonged, in my bed, wearing my ring, and thoroughly committed to whatever delightfully chaotic future we were about to create together.
Some fairy tales end with happily ever after. The best ones end with the promise of interesting times ahead and the satisfaction of knowing that whatever challenges come next, you'll face them with someone who appreciates both your capacity for love and your talent for creative revenge.
