Page 20 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Thirteen

Sage

T he 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 gravity and 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, finally settling 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?"

I bit back a smile at the typical deflection.

Even though the tea was already perfectly prepared and we had everything we needed, Gran had always sent me on similar errands when I was young and she needed a moment to collect her thoughts or speak privately with someone.

Poor Paige had no idea she was being temporarily banished.

Once Paige had disappeared into the kitchen and we could hear her rummaging around, Gran settled into her chair with her steaming cup of perfectly brewed tea warming her hands. She turned to Callum with renewed focus, her fingers tightening around her delicate teacup until her knuckles went white.

"The pureblood movement," she murmured, and a shadow passed over her lined face like clouds covering the sun. "I'd hoped that particular poison had been purged from our community long ago."

"But it wasn't, was it?" I asked quietly, already knowing the answer from the grim expression on her face. "Not completely."

Gran sighed heavily, the sound carrying the weight of decades of disappointment and struggle.

She settled back in her favorite armchair, the one that had molded itself to her form over the years.

"No, I suppose not. There would always be those who clung to the old hatreds, the backwards ideologies that divided our community.

I did my best during my time as head of the town council; I tried to create a place where all magical beings could coexist safely.

But then they recognized your magic, saw how much it resembled our ancestor's power, and they turned their fear and suspicion to you. "

She paused, her eyes growing distant with painful memories. "Soon after that, they orchestrated my removal from the council, and Reid Bishop took my place."

"Wait," I said, leaning forward with confusion clear in my voice. "Didn't you step down voluntarily? That's what everyone said, that you wanted to retire and enjoy your golden years."

"That's certainly what they wanted everyone to believe, and I never bothered to correct the narrative," she explained with a gentle shrug of her shoulders.

Her weathered hands, marked by years of spellcasting and hard-won wisdom, rested gracefully in her lap.

"Sometimes it's better to leave on what appears to be a positive note rather than air the community's dirty laundry. "

"But that's exactly what they're doing to Sage now, isn't it?

" Callum leaned forward, his voice tight with frustration.

"Creating their own narrative. Every person I've spoken to in town today has pointed the finger at her, calling her evil and dangerous.

They're not interested in the truth, they just want someone to blame. "

Gran's expression softened with understanding. "Yes, dear boy. History has a way of repeating itself in small towns like this one. Fear makes people desperate for simple answers, even when the truth is far more complicated.”

His troubled green eyes darted around our small circle before finally settling on mine, silently pleading for answers I wasn't sure I was ready to give. The pain in his expression cut through me like a blade.

"Do you believe them?" Gran asked, leaning forward slightly as her penetrating gaze fixed on Callum's face. It felt like she was searching for something deep within his soul, testing his true character.

Callum was quiet for a long moment, and I held my breath as he seemed to seriously consider the question. Part of me wondered with growing dread if he might actually think there was some merit to the town's accusations. But then he shook his head firmly, his jaw set with determination .

"No. The Sage I knew would never hurt innocent people, especially not children. I've heard enough stories about her childhood, about the cruelty she faced from people who couldn't understand or accept someone who was different from them."

"People change," I said flatly, tired of them discussing me as if I wasn't sitting right here in the room.

"Sounds like you're trying to martyr yourself, child," Gran warned, her tone sharp with disapproval.

"No, I was just making a point," I protested.

"A terrible one," Paige added helpfully as she returned from the kitchen, and I shot her a withering glare that she completely ignored.