Page 7 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Some witch-only towns outside Old Hollows still barred other paranormals, desperate to keep their bloodlines "pure." Gran called them bigots. But those places were fading. Progressive leaders were rising, overturning segregation laws one by one.

I was proud to say that Gran had come up with the idea of introducing shifters all those years ago, back when she was the undisputed head of the town council. She had stepped down a few years back, and Reid Bishop, the Bishop family leader, had taken over.

Gran had hoped I would step into a position on the council and help to open the town to more paranormals, but the way the town viewed me and ostracized me for my magic meant it would never happen. They would never allow me on the council, and Gran couldn't lead it forever.

Town rules said only a founding family member could lead the council.

Gran held the role for over two hundred years before stepping down.

They elected Reid, and within a few years, he'd undone everything she'd built for the shifter community.

Shifters lost their council seats, their rights chipped away.

Hope for change faded fast. Some started leaving.

Gran didn't say it, but I knew it hurt her when I wasn't everything she hoped I'd be. She never mentioned it, but the pain that I couldn't carry on her work was evident in the sadness in her gaze every time she looked at me.

Now half-shifter witches were missing, and things did not look good.

But I said none of this to Paige, because Paige descended from a shifter grandfather.

Her relation to us, the Blackstones, was the only thing keeping her from having to live in what they considered the shifter slums, a trailer park just outside town but still within the magical boundary.

I thought back to the rune on the wall outside Hexes and Brews, that dread churning within me once again. This symbol seemed more connected than I'd like, but try as I might, I still couldn't remember where I'd seen it before.

A memory flickered at the edge of my consciousness, papers scattered across my father's desk the week before the accident.

I'd been eight, bored, wandering into his study while he was at a council meeting.

Strange symbols covered the documents, circles with intersecting lines that had made my young magic recoil instinctively.

When I'd asked him about them later, he'd gone pale and quickly gathered the papers away .

"Just old historical research, little star," he'd said, using his pet name for me. "Nothing for you to worry about."

But his hands had been shaking as he locked the papers in his desk drawer. And three days later, he and my mother were dead in what Gran insisted was just a terrible car accident on the mountain road.

I shook my head, but the memory wouldn't leave me alone this time.

My parents had been researchers, historians fascinated by Old Hollows' past. What if those symbols weren't just historical research?

What if they'd discovered something about the town's darker secrets—something that connected to these disappearances?

The thought sent ice through my veins. My parents' deaths had never sat right with me, but Gran had always shut down any questions. "Some things are better left buried, little star," she'd say whenever I brought it up.

But maybe it was time to dig up the past.

"The question is," I said, pulling up local news on my computer, "who's really behind this? And why are they targeting girls like you?"

The screen filled with search results—missing persons reports, council statements, and buried deep in the local forums, whispers about ‘cleansing’ the bloodlines and ‘returning to the old ways.’

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the underground lair's temperature. This wasn't random. This was organized, purposeful, and aimed directly at witches like Paige and me.

I studied Paige closely before speaking, my voice soft but firm.

"Go to school, Paige, but be careful, and I'll pick you up today.

" I connected to Cosmo through our bond as she stood, her worry no less diminished as she headed toward the elevator door.

Her shoulders slumped. "Can you let Cosmo out on your way? "

She nodded as she walked across the dark hardwood I'd laid myself years prior when I'd secretly built this part of my house.

A villainous witch needed a hidden lair, right?

"Paige," I called out before she stepped into the elevator.

Her pale blue eyes—Blackstone blue, they called them, met my own blue eyes as I held her gaze.

So much was conveyed in a look as I held her stare.

I understand. We will fix this. I will keep you safe. We will help your friends.

She nodded in understanding.

When she turned to step fully into the elevator and the door began to close, I sent a message to Cosmo through our bond as he followed her.

Follow her and keep her safe. I may have given him a voice, but our special telepathic bond that only witches and familiars shared still had its uses.

In this case, Paige wouldn't protest or worry more if she didn't know.

I let Cosmo know to follow her to school and make sure she made it safely. He grumbled at me and complained it was too cold for his pretty paws, yet I remained unmoved when his long tail disappeared into the elevator as it opened again at his approach.

"Thank you, Sage," Paige called out as the elevator door began to close. "I know you want everyone to think you're bad and black-hearted, but I know the truth. But—." Her voice cut off as the elevator closed fully on her and Cosmo as the emptiness of my underground lair pressed in on me .

The hunt was on. The only question was whether I'd be the hunter or the prey.

I sighed, turned to my computer, and began my work of magically breaking down other people's networks.

First, I connected to my brilliantly made and magically enhanced satellite that sidestepped the town wards that kept it cut off from the rest of the world.

Next, I began mining the magical cryptocurrency I'd created, Hex Coin, which was only available to supernatural creatures.

Uber exclusive. A supernatural cryptocurrency that took magic to find and mine.

It had made me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams.

The cryptocurrency work was more than just about money, though.

It gave me access to supernatural networks worldwide, information that might prove crucial in finding these missing girls.

If someone was targeting mixed-blood witches, they might be doing it elsewhere too.

The money I made allowed me to donate heavily to the town, keeping the council and residents from looking too closely at my activities.

But as I worked, pulling up databases and following digital trails, my mind kept returning to that memory of my father's papers. The symbols. The fear in his eyes.

Maybe it was time to visit Gran and ask some hard questions about what really happened to my parents. Because if their deaths were connected to these disappearances, then this went deeper than just some bigot targeting shifter-blood witches.

This might be about something my family had discovered long ago. Something worth killing for.