Page 36 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Twenty-Two

Callum

T he iron bars of my cell had become as familiar as old enemies, each one a reminder of how spectacularly this investigation had gone sideways. I'd been pacing for what felt like hours, my thoughts spinning in increasingly frantic circles while my magic remained caged and silent.

That vision of Beverly's lifeless body kept flashing behind my eyes like a broken film reel, her pale skin marked by dark magic, the faint glimpse of hands, a partial face.

The image would haunt me until her killer faced justice, but trapped in this iron cage, I was about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

The problem was, I'd seen too little and too much at the same time.

Someone in that mob had touched Beverly's corpse, someone who'd helped drag me away from Sage during the festival chaos.

But with my powers suppressed and my memory frustratingly incomplete, I was stuck playing a guessing game with no good answers .

My jailer, Hank, sat in a chair across from my cell with his eyes closed, apparently napping on the job. The man was an enigma wrapped in professional neutrality, clearly powerful, definitely competent, but following orders with the enthusiasm of someone attending their own funeral.

"How long have you been the local enforcer?" I asked, more to break the oppressive silence than from genuine curiosity.

He opened one eye, regarded me with mild annoyance, then closed it again without responding.

"I'll take that as 'not long,'" I muttered. "Look, Hank, she isn't guilty. You know that, right?"

"Makes no difference," he replied, his voice carrying the weariness of someone who'd had this conversation before. "I don't make the rules, Agent Renshaw."

"But I work for the people who do," I pressed, searching his face for any crack in his professional facade. "Doesn't that concern you even slightly?"

For the briefest moment, something flickered in his expression, doubt, perhaps, or regret. "I'm just following orders," he said quietly. "You'll stay here until it's over. I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do to change that."

"Until what’s over?" Dread pooled in my stomach as I lunged forward, slamming my hands against the cell bars. "Tell me what they're planning!"

His jaw tightened, and he finally met my gaze with obvious reluctance. "They plan to burn that witch of yours at the stake," he said quietly, the words dropping like stones into still water. "Then they'll release you."

The words hit me like ice water, freezing me from the inside out. "How can you stand there and say that? Without proof? Without any evidence whatsoever?" My voice cracked under the weight of disbelief and growing panic.

Hank looked up, and for the first time, I saw something human flickering behind his eyes, the burden he'd been carrying.

"She declared herself evil in front of the entire town.

They've latched onto that like drowning people grabbing life preservers.

And when the High Council representative appears to be compromised.

.." He shook his head, his voice trailing off into uncomfortable silence.

"I don't get to say no to council orders. Doesn't mean I enjoy any of this."

I staggered back from the bars, my heart plummeting as the full horror of the situation crystallized.

They were going to murder Sage. My brilliant, fierce, magnificently stubborn Sage, who'd already endured decades of persecution simply for being born with the wrong family name.

The thought of her vibrant spirit extinguished in a blaze of ignorant cruelty was beyond unbearable.

Panic clawed at my throat as I gripped the cold metal, my knuckles turning white with desperate force. This couldn't be happening. Not when we'd just found each other again after five years of missed opportunities.

"Please," I managed, my voice raw with emotion. "You have to let me out. I can't let them do this to her. She's innocent, I swear it on my life, on my magic."

Hank's expression remained impassive, though I caught another flicker of that human uncertainty. "Innocent or guilty, it's out of my hands now. The council has spoken, and the people have made their feelings clear. One way or another, they believe justice will be served tonight. "

I slumped against the stone wall, despair threatening to drown me completely.

But just as hopelessness began to take hold, a sudden commotion from the corridor snapped me back to attention.

Shadows flickered along the dimly lit passageway, accompanied by soft footsteps and hushed whispers that sounded blessedly familiar.

"Sage?" I breathed, scarcely daring to believe what I was seeing.

She stepped into the faint light like a vision from my most desperate prayers.

She'd embraced her reputation completely, the pointed witch's hat, the flowing black dress, the dramatic makeup that transformed her into something both beautiful and slightly terrifying.

Paige flanked her left side while Cosmo prowled at her right, now grown to panther size with eyes that reflected starlight.

"Hello, darling," Sage said, her voice carrying that particular blend of affection and dark amusement that never failed to make my heart race. "Fancy meeting you in such a charming establishment."

Hank leaped to his feet, power crackling around his hands as he prepared to defend his position. "You! How did you escape the mob?"

Sage's lips curved in a smile sharp enough to draw blood.

"Oh, you know me, Hank. I'm absolutely full of unpleasant surprises.

Now, are you going to be a cooperative little warlock and hand over those keys, or shall we demonstrate why threatening a Blackstone witch is generally considered poor life planning? "

"I have my orders," Hank replied, his magic forming defensive barriers. "The prisoner stays put until the council says otherwise. And you have an appointment with a funeral pyre."

"Mmm, hard pass on that particular social engagement," Sage replied with mock politeness.

Cosmo yawned with elaborate indifference before fixing Hank with a predatory stare.

"Orders, schmorders. Don't you ever tire of being a mindless bureaucratic lackey?

Live a little, embrace your inner anarchist." He turned to Sage with obvious anticipation.

"This fellow's clearly an intellectual disappointment.

May I eat him? I promise to make it relatively quick. "

Hank had enough survival instinct to look genuinely terrified as he swallowed hard and stepped backward, only to find Cosmo now blocking his exit route.

"You know, Cosmo, that's remarkably tempting," Sage mused, taking a step forward with exaggerated menace.

Despite our dire circumstances, I couldn't help but admire her fierce beauty.

The dramatic costume was one she'd worn to our last Halloween party together; she'd chosen it, she'd said, to embrace what she couldn't change.

The thick eyeliner made her look deliciously dangerous in the low light, and the corset still accentuated her figure in ways that made concentration difficult.

Paige stepped forward with her hands raised diplomatically. "Please, Hank. You know this isn't right. Sage is innocent, and Callum is trying to help solve the actual murders. If you release them, we can work together to find the real culprit."

For a moment, conflict warred visibly in Hank's expression. I held my breath, hoping Paige's earnest appeal might reach whatever conscience he possessed. But then his face hardened with renewed resolve.

"I'm sorry, but pretty words won't change my duty," he said, raising his magic-wreathed hand. "Orders are orders."

Sage's response was swift and decisive. Energy crackled from her fingertips, striking Hank square in the chest and sending him flying backward into the stone wall with enough force to create an audible impact. His body went limp as he slumped unconscious to the floor.

"Is he dead?" I demanded, stretching my hand out through the bars to check his pulse. Relief flooded me when I found him breathing steadily.

"Unfortunately not," Paige muttered, crossing her arms with obvious disappointment.

"I can remedy that oversight," Cosmo growled, stalking forward with predatory intent.

"No!" I commanded, earning myself a withering feline glare.

"Who are you to issue orders to me, warlock?" he spat, clearly still nursing some grudge.

"He's right, Cosmo. Leave him breathing," Sage said, stepping over Hank's unconscious form to retrieve the keys from his belt. "We have bigger problems than one misguided enforcer."

I watched in admiration as she unlocked my cell with practiced ease, her movements fluid despite our urgent circumstances. "Looks like I'm rescuing you again," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "Just like that time I saved you from Betty 'goody-two-shoes' Harrington in college. "

"And as I mentioned then, competent women taking charge are incredibly attractive," I replied, pulling her into my arms the moment I was free. The rush of magic returning to my veins was nothing compared to the relief of holding her again.

"Ugh, can you two save the romantic reunion for after we've escaped the lynch mob?" Paige announced with exaggerated disgust.

Cosmo snickered, his tail swishing with amusement. "Let them have their moment, dear Paige. It's not every day our warlock Romeo gets to play damsel in distress to his dark witch Juliet."

I reluctantly released Sage, though I kept one hand on her waist. "The overgrown cat has a point, much as it pains me to admit it. We need to move before someone discovers Hank's unexpected nap."

"Familiar, not cat," Cosmo grumbled with wounded dignity.

"There might be old service tunnels," Sage said hesitantly as we moved down the corridor. "The principal mentioned connections between these downtown buildings. We can get Paige somewhere safe, then figure out who's actually behind all this."

As we hurried through the narrow passages, I became increasingly aware of something dark and oppressive hanging in the air like thick smoke. The same malevolent energy I'd sensed during my vision seemed to be growing stronger, more pervasive.

"Do you feel that?" I asked Sage quietly, noting how she instinctively moved to shield Paige.

"The dark magic? It's been getting stronger since the festival," she confirmed, her voice tight with concern. "Whatever's happening, I think it's building toward something significant.

"I need to get Paige somewhere safe first," she continued, scanning the darkness ahead. "Then we can focus on hunting down the real killer."

The weight of everything that had happened, the mob, the arrest, the planned execution, settled on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

"Sage, the town council is operating completely outside High Council authority.

They've essentially declared martial law and appointed themselves judge, jury, and executioner.

This is bigger than just local politics. "

"Which means whoever's behind the murders has been planning this for a long time," she replied grimly. "Long enough to corrupt the entire power structure of Old Hollows."

As we navigated the labyrinthine tunnels, one thought kept circling back through my mind: the vision, the glimpse of hands over Beverly's body, the sense that the killer had been close enough to touch during the chaos at the festival.

Someone in that mob wasn't just a misguided townsfolk caught up in hysteria. Someone there was a murderer who'd been playing a very long, very dangerous game.

And we were running out of time to stop them from claiming their next victim.