Page 33 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
"Now hurry up," she said to the wall. "We're burning daylight, and I have a feeling today is going to be complicated enough without starting it behind schedule."
I couldn't resist pushing her buttons just a little. "Oh, Sage, don't be shy now. You've seen every inch of my body before." I paused, waiting to see if she'd turn around. When she didn't, I continued while deliberately taking my time pulling the shirt on. "As a matter of fact, I know every inch of yours too, especially that little freckle you have just below your?—"
"Callum," she warned sharply, whirling around with her hands planted firmly on her hips and her blue eyes narrowed dangerously.
I couldn't help the satisfied smirk that tugged at my lips, even as I obediently pulled the shirt down over my chest. She'd been looking. That had to count for something, right?
As I pulled on jeans and boots, I took the opportunity to really study her. She looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and tension radiating from every line of her body, but there was also an electric sense of urgency about her that I recognized. I knew that feeling intimately; she was on a mission, and nothing would stop her until she'd seen it through.
"I take it you've got a lead?" I asked, shrugging into my leather jacket.
Sage nodded grimly. "More like a hunch, but it's the best we've got. I spent most of the night going through Gran's old council records, and I think I found a connection between the missing girls and a group of pureblood fanatics that were supposedly disbanded years ago."
My eyebrows shot up. "The same group that Gran and your parents helped break up?"
"The very same." Sage's jaw clenched tight with chaotic anger. "Turns out they didn't all scatter to the wind like everyone thought. Some of them just went underground and got smarter about hiding their activities. And guess whose name kept popping up in the old surveillance reports, even though nothing was ever officially proven?"
My stomach dropped as the truth hit me before she even said the name. "Reid Bishop."
"Got it in one, Renshaw." Sage tapped a finger against her lips, a nervous habit I remembered from countless late-night study sessions at the academy. "Of course, it's all just speculation and circumstantial evidence at this point. But it's the closest thing to a real lead we've had since this whole nightmare started."
I nodded, my investigator instincts already kicking into high gear despite the emotional turmoil of the past twenty-four hours. "Okay, so where do we start? Do we question Bishop directly?"
Sage snorted with derision. "Sure, if you want to tip him off that we're onto him and give him time to destroy evidence or disappear entirely. No, we need to be much more careful and strategic than that." Her expression grew thoughtful. "Tonight is the Samhain celebration, and there's a town festival planned. Bishop is scheduled to give a speech about community values and magical traditions."
"Sounds like the perfect opportunity for surveillance," I agreed, following her lead as we headed for the door. "We can observe him in his element, see how he interacts withpeople, and maybe pick up some clues about his true agenda."
Mrs. Hensley was still visible in the hallway, gesticulating wildly and muttering what sounded like prayers or possibly curses under her breath. We ignored her pompous display and headed toward the exit, stepping out into the crisp morning air that carried the scent of autumn leaves and distant woodsmoke.
"Actually, I need to make a quick stop first," Sage said, already starting to veer off toward the path that led to her house. "I left Cosmo at home last night, and he gets cranky when he's left out of investigations. Why don't you head to Hexes and Brews and get us some coffee? I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."
Before I could respond, she was already sauntering away down the winding road, her hips swaying in a way that made my mouth go dry despite everything that had happened between us. I watched her disappear around a bend, remembering the conversations we'd had in college about the house she wanted to build someday, clever and hidden and uniquely hers. She'd actually done it, created something amazing from nothing but dreams and determination.
Beautiful, brilliant, and impossibly powerful. She was a recipe for disaster, and I was more than ready to weather whatever storm came from being in her presence again, even if it left me completely destroyed in the end.
With that sobering thought, I turned and walked toward the coffee shop, my mind already racing ahead to the investigation while part of me remained fixated on the impossible puzzle that was Sage Blackstone.
The soothing warmth of Hexes and Brews enveloped me as I stepped inside, along with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the low hum of early morning conversation. But my heart sank when I saw who was working behind the counter instead of the friendly Cindee.
Cate stood there with a smile that seemed too bright for the early hour, her brown eyes lighting up when she spotted me. "Well, hello there, handsome," she purred, leaning forward over the counter in a way that made her low-cut shirt display more than I wanted to see. "What can I get started for you this morning?"
The air seemed to thicken with an odd tension, and I instinctively took a step back from the counter. Something felt off about her overly familiar tone, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.
"One Black Magic blend and one Wicked Brew, please," I said, maintaining a respectful distance while pulling out my credit card. "And a cheese danish."
"Is the Wicked Brew for you?" she asked with a coy tilt of her head that made my suspicions spike.
"Why do you ask?" I responded more sharply than I'd intended.
"Oh, just so I can make yours first since you're here and your companion isn't yet," she said with what seemed like genuine concern. "I'm still learning all the different blends, and I want to make sure I get them right. Just trying to be considerate and keep my job."
Her explanation seemed reasonable enough, and I felt my tension ease slightly. "Fine, yes, it’s mine."
"Perfect! I'll have everything ready in two shakes of anewt's tail," she said with a wide smile, turning to busily prepare the drinks.
I used the time to survey the coffee shop, noting that it was relatively quiet for this time of morning. A middle-aged couple sat in one corner, deep in quiet conversation over their steaming mugs, while a teenager in an oversized hoodie was hunched over a laptop near the front window, completely absorbed in whatever was on the screen.
"One Wicked Brew and one Black Magic," Cate called out cheerfully, and I approached the counter to collect our order.
