Page 11 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Seven

Callum

I started down Main Street in Old Hollows, taking in the town where Sage had grown up. In the four years we'd been together, she'd never invited me here, not to her grandmother's home or to meet old friends. They always had to come to us. Though I'd taken her home to my town many times.

Old Hollows looked like any other paranormal town that had refused to change. Cobblestone roads, streets filled with pumpkins and orange and black All Hallows' Day decorations, but the old world feel remained even with small modern upgrades like Victorian street lamps and traffic lights.

A Salem vibe persisted, as if the witches who'd fled Salem and formed this town had refused to let go of the past, keeping those memories heavy and alive.

It was in the building styles, the wooden signs swinging overhead, the cobblestones forming the main road, and the way the very air felt different, older .

I placed my hands in my pockets, analyzing every store including the council building where I needed to report. That's when brown curls caught my eye as a chunky black cat followed behind Sage.

I stood frozen, staring after her retreating form as she carried a bag down the sidewalk, onto the street, then farther until she veered onto a path disappearing into the woods.

My heart pounded like a drum after seeing her, though only from behind, for the first time in years.

I wanted to run after her, snatch her up and never let her go.

But if I did, I might pass out right there.

A common occurrence when certain parts of me became too happy.

Just thinking of her, her lovely hair and warm brown skin, those electric blue eyes, made me hard, and that was never a good idea.

Not after whoever had cursed me. But that’s a story for another day.

I'd have to go slow, be cautious, and do my job. If there was a chance of making things right, I couldn't ruin it early on.

With a heavy heart, I turned away from Sage's retreating form and forced myself toward the council building.

As much as I longed to chase after her, to pull her into my arms and apologize for everything, I knew I had work to do first. Sage wasn't likely to welcome me with open arms after how things had ended.

No, she was more likely to curse me, make good on her promise to turn me into a frog, warts and all. Apparently, she'd had a knack for it since childhood. My little toad curser .

The imposing stone structure loomed ahead, contrasting sharply with Old Hollows' quaint charm. I climbed the steps and pushed through heavy oak doors, steeling myself for bureaucracy and red tape.

Inside, a stern-faced receptionist greeted me with a raised eyebrow. "Can I help you?" Her tone implied she'd rather be doing anything else.

I flashed my Mage Agent badge. "Callum Renshaw. I have an appointment with High Councilman Reid Bishop."

She studied the badge before giving a curt nod. "Wait here." She disappeared down a hallway, leaving me alone in the musty foyer.

Minutes ticked by as I paced restlessly, my mind still reeling from glimpsing Sage. What was she doing, wandering into the woods like that? Could it relate to the missing girls?

The receptionist returned, her pinched face showing clear annoyance. "High Councilman Bishop will see you now. Follow me."

I trailed behind her down the narrow hallway, floorboards creaking beneath our feet. She led me to a heavy wooden door and rapped sharply.

"Enter," a gruff voice called from within.

The receptionist ushered me inside before quickly retreating. I stood in a dimly lit office, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves and strange magical artifacts. Behind a massive desk sat a middle-aged man with shrewd eyes and a well-groomed beard streaked with grey.

"Agent Renshaw, I presume?" High Councilman Reid Bishop rose to shake my hand, his grip firm and cool. "I've been expecting you. Please, have a seat."

I settled into the chair across from him, leather squeaking slightly. "Thank you for meeting with me, Councilman. I'm here to investigate the recent disappearances of?—"

He held up a hand, cutting me off. "Yes, I'm aware of the situation. Terrible business, those poor girls. But I can assure you, the council is doing everything in its power to locate them."

Something about his tone made me pause. Too smooth, too rehearsed. Like he'd said those exact words many times before. I leaned forward.

"With all due respect, Councilman, the High Council has sent me to conduct an independent investigation. I'll need access to all requested files and free rein to conduct investigations and interviews with town inhabitants."

Reid Bishop stared at me intently, letting his power expand outward, heavy and thick in the air, a clear attempt to intimidate me.

I raised a brow and waited, completely unimpressed by his display.

I could have risen to his challenge and unleashed my abilities, but true dominance lay in not needing to.

The High Council had recruited me not for my looks, but for the raw energy that simmered beneath my skin.

I smirked, letting one side of my lips rise as I leaned back, showing him he was the little fish in this room without even trying.

Best to leave him guessing at my capabilities.

Bishop scowled, then sighed. "You have permission." He studied me, and just as I prepared to leave, he held up a hand. "As long as you report everything you find to me."

I pulled out my badge and documentation, spreading them across Bishop's desk.

"Let me clarify something for you, Councilman.

The High Council operates on a federal level, we don't interfere with local governance unless specific conditions are met.

Murder qualifies. Conspiracy across multiple communities qualifies.

And obstruction of a federal investigation?

" I smiled coldly. "That definitely qualifies.

"Your local council has every right to manage zoning laws, business licenses, and municipal disputes.

But the moment someone starts kidnapping and killing people, especially in patterns suggesting organized activity, it becomes our jurisdiction.

The founding treaties are very clear on this.

" I gathered my documents and stood. "I can't report my findings to you without my superiors' permission.

You'll have to contact the main office for approval. "

Bishop's jaw tightened. "You forget, Agent Renshaw, that Old Hollows operates under local council authority. The High Council doesn't meddle in our municipal decisions."

"That's true," I agreed calmly, "for local ordinances, zoning disputes, and minor infractions. But murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy?" I shook my head. "Those fall under High Council jurisdiction, especially when they involve multiple communities or threaten the broader magical population.

"Furthermore," I continued, enjoying how Bishop's confidence cracked. "Any attempt to interfere with a High Council investigation automatically escalates local authority to federal oversight. So I'd suggest you cooperate, Councilman, before this becomes a much bigger problem for you."

With Bishop suitably cowed, I made my way to the town hall's records department. The elderly clerk, Mrs. Pembridge, greeted me with nervous efficiency.

"I need to see construction permits and magical infrastructure applications for the past ten years," I told her.

She bustled away, returning with several thick folders. As I flipped through them, a pattern emerged that made my blood run cold.

"These underground utility upgrades," I said, pointing to a series of permits. "Who authorized them?"

Mrs. Pembridge adjusted her spectacles. "Oh, those were all signed off by Councilman Bishop himself. Said it was to modernize the old tunnel system for emergency purposes. Very thorough work; it cost the town a pretty penny."

"Emergency purposes?"

"Earthquake preparedness," she said. "Though I always thought it odd, all that magical shielding and containment equipment for emergency shelters." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Between you and me, some of those material orders looked more suited to... well, less wholesome purposes."

I studied the permits more carefully. Every signature was Reid Bishop's. Every contractor was approved personally by him. And the timeline, the major work had been completed just before the disappearances became systematic.

"Mrs. Pembridge," I said slowly, "who else had access to these permits? Who else would have known about the tunnel upgrades?"

"Oh, just the council members, really. Though I did notice young Tommy Bishop down here quite often, picking up the progress reports for his father."

Just as I was preparing to leave, Bishop appeared in the doorway with perfect timing that felt too convenient. "I will need those files returned immediately, Agent Renshaw," he said, waiting for me to turn and look at him.

I straightened, keeping my voice level but firm. "As I explained earlier, Councilman Bishop, this is now a federal investigation under my jurisdiction. The files stay with me." I tucked the folder more securely under my arm.

"You might want to start with the wicked witch in town. Nasty business, that one; always sticking her dark magic nose in everyone's business."

He crossed his arms as he leaned back, his overly round belly straining against his suit shirt buttons. "Last week she hexed Mr. Miller's favorite cow, and it still refuses to produce milk. Instead, it ate the toupee right off his head when he went to milk her."

Councilman Bishop didn't notice as he continued, growing more animated.

"And don't get me started on the Hex and Brew coffee shop.

The witch practically lives there. Ever since she started going there, every coffee I buy comes with daily predictions.

And before you ask, no, I didn't ask for that with my coffee.

I wanted plain, normal, no-hex coffee. Instead, I get predictions like 'Today you'll fall into a hole and dirty your pant leg.

' And believe it or not, it happens every time. "

"And who might that be?" I asked, though my heart was already sinking. "This witch?"

"Sage Blackstone."

I blinked at him, torn between demanding answers and ripping his damn throat out for suggesting Sage was anything but perfect. Instead, I frowned, schooled my features, tipped my head in a jerked nod, then left with a new mission added to my list.

I needed to find out why they thought Sage was some evil doing witch and squash it in its tracks.

Several hours later, after making my way through half the shops on Main Street, the picture became clearer—and more troubling than I'd expected.

At the hardware store, the clerk had muttered about "that witch's dark magic" while ringing up my purchase.

The pharmacist had openly scowled when I mentioned Sage's name, launching into a tirade about hexes and curses.

Even the grocery store cashier had crossed herself and whispered about "staying clear of that one. "

Only Cindee at the coffee shop Bishop had mentioned seemed different. When I'd asked about Sage, her face had softened with genuine fondness rather than fear or anger. "She's got a good heart under all that bluster," she'd said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

It wasn't just Bishop who called her the town's black magic witch, the entire town had labeled her that way. A sharp ache twisted in my chest.

She'd dealt with that as a child. It wasn't something adults should continue to use against her. Unless they were blind to the truth and she had let them call her whatever they wanted, or worse, had given them a reason to.

I needed to confront Sage, and soon. Because as far as the whole town was concerned, she was guilty, and they were ready to light the pyre.