Page 39 of Bewitched By the Wicked Witch
"Agent Renshaw," a silky voice interjected with the smoothness of expensive wine hiding bitter undertones. I turned to see a striking woman with silver-streaked dark hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to catalog every detail of my appearance. "Surely you can understand our legitimate concerns regarding Miss Blackstone? Her family's reputation precedes her like a dark cloud, and she's hardly made efforts to endear herself to our community's more traditional values."
Councilwoman Devon, if I recalled correctly from my briefing materials. Something about her phrasing and the calculated way she spoke made my skin crawl with unease.
"Councilwoman Devon," I replied, matching her smooth tone while loading my words with barely concealed steel. "With all due respect to your traditional values, a person's family reputation and social standing have precisely zero bearing on their innocence or guilt in a criminal matter. My job is to follow evidence and solve murders, not pander to small-town prejudices or validate social hierarchies."
Devon's lips compressed into a thin line that could have cut glass, her green eyes flashing with barely concealed irritation at being challenged so directly. "Be that as it may, Agent Renshaw, you simply cannot deny that Miss Blackstone's behavior has been unorthodox to say the least. Consorting with familiars, practicing questionable forms of magic, living in isolation like some kind of hermit, it's no wonder people are wary of her influence."
The venom in her voice when she described Sage's lifestyle choices told me everything I needed to know about Devon's real motivations.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the table and allowing a hint of magical energy to crackle around my fingers. "Councilwoman, let me clarify something for you. Having a familiar, practicing magic, and choosing to live away from judgmental neighbors are all perfectly legalactivities in this jurisdiction. Unless you have actual evidence that Sage has caused harm to another person, I suggest you redirect your considerable energy toward finding the real culprit behind these disappearances instead of scapegoating convenient targets."
A tense silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket, broken only by nervous paper shuffling and throat clearing. Bishop steepled his fingers, regarding me with the calculating look of someone running complex political equations in his head.
"Very well, Agent Renshaw," he said finally, his tone carrying the deceptive mildness of a snake offering directions. "In the spirit of transparency and community cooperation, what specifically would you have us do?"
I straightened to my full height, allowing a predatory smile to play at the corners of my mouth. "I'm delighted you asked, Councilman Bishop. I want individual meetings with every single member of this council. Today. Starting immediately."
The response was immediate and spectacularly dramatic, a cacophony of sputters, protests, and indignant exclamations that would have made a theater director proud.
"Absolutely preposterous!" Pemberton blustered, his mustache quivering with righteous fury.
"Surely you can't expect us to abandon our scheduled obligations on such unreasonable notice," contributed a reedy-voiced man in a bowler hat who looked like he'd stepped out of a Dickens novel.
I raised my hand for silence, and when that didn't work, I allowed a fraction of my magical power tofill the air with a chill that made everyone's breath visible. "Gentlemen, ladies, please contain your enthusiasm. Let me remind you that four young women are missing and one is confirmed dead, a dead woman who, incidentally, has developed a disturbing habit of humming Disney songs during autopsies. I think that warrants some minor inconvenience on your part."
The room fell silent except for a few sharp intakes of breath.
"Unless, of course, you're suggesting that your regular Tuesday afternoon activities are more important than solving multiple murders?" I continued with dangerous sweetness. "Because I'd be fascinated to explain that priority system to the High Council when they inevitably ask why this investigation was obstructed by local politics."
Bishop's jaw muscles clenched visibly, but he managed a curt nod. "Of course, Agent Renshaw. We are entirely at your disposal. Shall we say half-hour intervals starting at noon?"
"Perfect," I flashed them my most shark-like grin. "I look forward to our intimate conversations. And do try to be forthcoming, I'd hate to have to call in additional resources from the High Council's enforcement division."
A visible shudder rippled through the room at the mention of the governing body that oversaw all magical affairs with legendary thoroughness and complete lack of patience for local politics. Even Bishop looked momentarily discomfited before smoothing his features back into practiced neutrality.
"That won't be necessary," he assured me with theconfidence of someone hoping to avoid external oversight. "We have nothing to hide and every desire to assist your investigation."
"Excellent. Then we should have no issues whatsoever." I turned on my heel, striding back toward the doors with my coat billowing dramatically behind me. "Oh, and one final thought," I called over my shoulder.
I paused at the threshold, turning to face the council with the expression of someone delivering a particularly important weather forecast. "If I discover any evidence of obstruction, collusion, or deliberate misdirection in this investigation, I won't hesitate to bring the full legal weight of the High Council down upon this entire body. Pureblood supremacist ideology has no place in civilized magical society, and I make it my personal mission to root it out wherever it festers like an infected wound. Have a wonderful afternoon."
With that parting observation, I swept out of the chambers, allowing the heavy doors to swing shut with a resounding thud that muffled the explosion of agitated chatter that erupted in my wake.
I allowed myself a small, grim smile of satisfaction as I strode down the marble hallway, my footsteps echoing in the cavernous space with the rhythm of someone who'd just accomplished exactly what they'd set out to do. The council was officially on notice, and now the real investigative work could begin in earnest.
However, as I mentally prepared my interrogation strategy, truth-revealing charms, psychological pressure tactics, and my own specialized gift for seeing through deception, unease coiled in my gut like a restless snake.There had been something about Councilwoman Devon's too-keen gaze, the way her eyes had tried to bore into my mind as if attempting to peel back layers of thought. And Bishop's calculating stare as I'd made my dramatic exit left me with the distinct intuition that I should proceed with extreme caution.
My ability to see the truth, the very skill that had made the council recruit me for this assignment, was tingling with warnings that suggested something far more dangerous than simple political corruption was lurking beneath Old Hollows' quaint surface.
After my confrontational council performance, I found myself needing Sage's sharp analytical mind to help untangle the web of suspicions and theories that were multiplying faster than rabbits in my head. Her underground sanctuary seemed like the perfect place to spread out evidence and connect dots that were currently scattered across my consciousness like a puzzle missing crucial pieces.
It was time to pay my favorite witch a visit.
Eighteen
Sage
Back in my underground sanctuary, Callum and I transformed my workspace into mission control for unraveling whatever delightfully twisted conspiracy was plaguing our charming little town. Case files spread across my desk like tarot cards predicting doom, while the glow from multiple monitors cast eerie shadows that made even the evidence photos look more ominous than usual.
