Page 31 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)
Twenty
Callum
A fter my encounter with the council and their thinly veiled threats, I found myself needing the comfort of Sage's sharp wit and analytical mind.
The Samhain festival seemed like the perfect cover for a clandestine meeting; nothing quite like discussing murder investigations while surrounded by people celebrating death and magic.
The crisp autumn air carried the scent of cinnamon and wood smoke as I navigated through the bustling festival crowds.
Townsfolk mingled among colorful stalls, their faces aglow with flickering jack-o'-lanterns and strings of enchanted fairy lights that cast everything in an eerie glow.
Children darted past in elaborate costumes, their laughter providing a strange counterpoint to the very real darkness we were investigating.
I scanned the crowd, searching for familiar raven curls while mentally rehearsing how to tell Sage that her town's leadership was even more corrupt than we'd suspected.
We'd agreed to meet here to compare notes and strategize our next moves, though given my council interrogations, I suspected our options were becoming increasingly limited.
Just as I was beginning to worry that she'd decided the whole enterprise was too dangerous, a flash of black caught my eye.
I turned, feeling my mood lighten considerably as Sage emerged from the throng like a gothic goddess, resplendent in a form-fitting black dress that hugged her curves with architectural precision.
Her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders in a way that suggested both elegance and restless chaos.
"Sorry I'm late," she called out as she approached, her eyes sparkling with characteristic mischief. "Had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction involving enchanted corsets and experimental potion brewing. Apparently they don't play well together."
I arched an eyebrow, my imagination immediately supplying several fascinating scenarios. "Do I want to know the details, or should I preserve my sanity?"
She smirked, linking her arm through mine with the casual intimacy that still made my heart skip beats. "Probably best to leave it to your imagination. Let's just say being the town's designated villain has unexpected advantages when it comes to last-minute costume alterations."
Only Sage could make a potential magical disaster sound like a fashion triumph. We began weaving our way through the festival, and I used the cover of ambient noise to fill her in on my delightful council interrogations.
"I'm telling you, Sage, they were hiding something significant," I said, lowering my voice as we passed a group of gossiping witches. "Especially Councilwoman Devon. The way she looked at me; it was like she was trying to perform unauthorized brain surgery with her eyes."
Sage nodded thoughtfully, her expression shifting to something more serious.
"I've never trusted that woman. She's always given me the distinct impression of someone who views mixed-blood witches as an unfortunate pest control problem.
Her ties to the old pureblood families make her particularly dangerous. "
"Exactly," I agreed, pausing as we reached a booth selling hot cider. The elderly vendor's face immediately soured when she noticed Sage, and she made a show of spitting to the side while muttering something about not serving ‘dark magic practitioners.’
I handed over coins for two drinks with perhaps more force than necessary, meeting the woman's hostile glare with my best federal agent stare. "Keep the change," I said coldly, "you'll need it for the charm school tuition."
As we moved away from the booth, I leaned closer to Sage. "Are you alright with this constant hostility?"
"Why wouldn't I be perfectly fine?" she asked with a shrug that didn't quite hide the tension in her shoulders. "Nothing unusual about being treated like a walking plague by my neighbors. Just another delightful Tuesday in Old Hollows."
I let out a long breath, filing this conversation away for later when we had more privacy and fewer potential witnesses. "So, based on my council meetings, Councilwoman Devon definitely deserves a prominent position on our suspect list."
"Speaking of suspects," Sage said, fixing me with a penetrating look that made me suddenly nervous, " Aren't you concerned that I might actually be guilty? That perhaps everyone's suspicions about the local dark witch have some merit?"
The vulnerability that flickered across her features hit me like a physical blow.
"That you are some dark magic practitioner bent on terrorizing teenagers?
" I shook my head firmly. "Absolutely not.
You're still the woman I fell in love with all those years ago, and you don't have a genuinely evil bone in your entire body.
I didn't believe their prejudiced nonsense for a second. "
She relaxed slightly, a faint smile tugging at her mouth, one of those rare, genuine expressions I used to earn so easily during our school days.
It pulled me back to those early memories, when her smiles had been precious commodities that took patience and persistence to achieve.
She'd never quite believed I could choose her over social expectations or family pressure.
And I knew I'd shattered something fundamental in her the day I had walked away to accept the High Council position, convinced I was protecting her.
Maybe I was still making mistakes with equally catastrophic potential.
As we huddled together, sharing investigative theories in hushed tones, a sudden commotion drew our attention like a moth to a particularly ominous flame.
The crowd parted with the dramatic flair of a badly staged play, revealing Tommy Bishop striding toward us with the confidence of someone who'd never faced real consequences for their actions.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, his nasal voice carrying over the suddenly hushed murmurs of onlookers. "If it isn't the town villain and her bewitched federal lapdog. Plotting your next move in this charming charade, are you?"
I felt Sage stiffen beside me, her fingers tightening around my arm like she was anchoring herself against a storm. I placed my hand over hers in silent support while fighting the urge to introduce Tommy's face to my fist.
What struck me immediately was Tommy's timing, appearing at the exact moment we were discussing our investigation. Either he possessed remarkably convenient luck, or someone had been monitoring our activities more closely than we'd realized.
"Tommy," I acknowledged, keeping my tone carefully neutral while my magic hummed beneath my skin like a caged predator. "How delightful to see you spreading joy and goodwill at a community celebration."
Tommy barked out a harsh laugh that sounded like a hyena with digestive issues. "Oh, I'm spreading something far more valuable than joy tonight. I'm delivering justice."
A ripple of unease moved through the gathered crowd like a slow-spreading infection. Sage and I exchanged a wary glance as my stomach dropped with the kind of dread usually reserved for tax audits and root canals.
Tommy's smile widened with the predatory satisfaction of someone about to reveal their masterpiece of malice.
"Citizens of Old Hollows," he called out, his voice carrying the self-righteous authority of someone who'd never been told to shut up.
"For too long, we have cowered in fear, plagued by the dark machinations of evil in our midst. But tonight, justice will finally be served! "
He thrust a dramatically accusatory finger toward Sage like he was directing a particularly overwrought opera. "Sage Blackstone, you stand accused of the disappearance and murder of our innocent young women. What do you say to these charges?"
Gasps and shocked whispers erupted from the gathered townsfolk with all the subtlety of an explosion in a library. Protective fury surged through me as I stepped forward, planting myself between Sage and the increasingly hostile crowd.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," I shouted, my voice trembling with unleashed rage. "Sage has been working tirelessly to find the missing girls and bring them home safely. Where's your proof? Where's even a shred of actual evidence?"
Tommy's expression turned smugly triumphant, his eyes narrowing with malicious glee.
"Evidence? Who needs mundane evidence when the truth is obvious to anyone with functioning brain cells?
She's a Blackstone, evil runs in her bloodline like a hereditary disease.
Darkness and depravity are her birthright. "
The crowd's murmurs transformed swiftly into angry shouts and jeers as mob mentality took hold. "Evil witch!" they cried, their voices rising in a frenzied chorus that would have made a medieval inquisition proud. "She's responsible! Make her pay for her crimes!"
I looked around in horrified disbelief as faces I'd met during my investigation contorted with fear and hatred. They surged forward like a living wave, hands grasping at Sage, trying to drag her away from my protective stance.
"No!" I roared, throwing myself toward her while my magic crackled around me like defensive lightning. "She's innocent!"
"You see?" Tommy announced to the crowd with elaborate flourish. "She has bewitched the very man the High Council sent to investigate her! What more proof do you need of her corrupting influence?"
Before I could respond, rough hands seized my arms while others grabbed Sage. I lunged forward, my fingers closing around Tommy's wrist in a grip designed to leave bruises.
"Listen carefully, you sniveling excuse for a human being," I growled, leaning close enough that he could see exactly how serious I was. "If you think I'll stand by and watch you persecute an innocent woman based on nothing but prejudice and small-minded fear, you are catastrophically mistaken."