Page 9 of Bewitched by the Wicked Witch (The Bewitching Hour #4)

Five

Callum

I sat on the thinly cushioned metal chair watching the clock as the receptionist, Mrs. Findley, clicked away on an old keyboard. Her weathered face examined me harshly through thick spectacles.

Uncomfortable under her scrutiny, I shifted my gaze downward to the small coffee table, magazines sprawled across it.

I grimaced as I spotted the Warlocks We Love charity magazine, my face plastered in the corner.

They'd worn me down, year after year, until I finally gave in.

I shoved it to the bottom of the pile without opening it.

I let out a strained sigh, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve. My thoughts drifted back to why I was here, the knot in my stomach tightening. What could they possibly want from me now?

"Should be any moment now," she said, going back to tapping keys with painful slowness. I groaned silently. Sloths moved faster.

"Callum Renshaw," called a man's deep voice as the door opened. I stood and moved toward the partially opened door, Mrs. Findley's narrowed eyes following me as I stepped through.

Once inside, my gaze took in the man standing beside the door, dark hair slicked back, expensive tailored suit, icy pale blue eyes. He looked like someone I knew, but I couldn't recall where I'd seen him before.

We assessed each other briefly, power crackling in the air, before he smiled and gestured toward his desk.

"Mage Agent Renshaw, a pleasure to finally officially meet you," he said, extending his hand. I knew who this man was and didn't clasp my hand to his. One touch and all my dirty secrets would be his.

"Mr. Crowley, the pleasure is all mine," I nodded, careful not to touch him.

Dru Crowley smiled, pleased at my reaction, and motioned for me to follow him to his desk.

I moved the chair thirty degrees from his before settling into it and leaning back, waiting.

He steepled his fingers, expecting me to become uncomfortable.

I didn't. I let a grin spread across my face instead.

His lips twitched before he pressed them together. "You're probably wondering why I called you to my office?" He leaned back and watched me, then followed my relaxed pose. I swallowed hard, wracking my brain about what I could have done. No one came to his office unless they were in trouble.

But nothing came to mind. I shook my head.

"I have an assignment for you. One that I think only you will be motivated to uncover the truth about," he said, opening a yellow manila folder with my picture clipped to it.

"Says here you attended Magnus College. What were your magical studies?" he asked, studying the information.

"Magical law," I said, still searching my mind for what I might have missed.

"Says your unique gift is precognition and strong psychic abilities." He lowered the folder, one eyebrow raised.

"Not exactly," I began, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. "I see things, details, clues. I have strong intuition that pulls me in the right direction, and things talk to me."

"Things?" Both eyebrows shot up.

"Objects tell me a story. They give me leads." I shrugged, not adding that I also had a connection to the dead or that touching people revealed their deepest secrets.

"Yet you can also perform magic like most witches," he added skeptically.

I nodded, again trying not to let irritation show.

His fake smile stretched across his face, showing too many teeth. "Splendid."

"May I ask why I'm here, sir?" I finally asked. With only six months left to complete my contract, I had little time to figure out how to get back to Sage. I suspected they'd try to extend it again.

"I have a special assignment for you. Do you know Sage Blackstone? Her father was a member of the high council here before his untimely death. Her grandmother is a founding family member of Old Hollows." He studied me carefully, a knowing gleam in his eyes .

The mention of her name hit me like a physical blow.

I shifted in my chair, not having heard Sage's name spoken aloud in anything but a threat in five long years.

But she had been a constant presence in my mind, her beautiful dark hair and light brown skin, those bright blue eyes that were such a striking contrast to her lovely face. My heart ached.

The memory of our last conversation haunted me. The way her eyes had gone from love to confusion to devastation in minutes. How she'd stood there, waiting for an explanation I couldn't give.

"I don't understand," she'd whispered, her voice breaking. "Last week we were talking about our future, and now you're saying there isn't one?"

I'd wanted to tell her everything. About the threats, about the choice I'd been forced to make. About how leaving her was killing me just as much as it was killing her. But I couldn't. They'd made it clear that any attempt to contact her would only make things worse for her.

So I'd stood there like a stone, letting her think I simply didn't love her anymore. Letting her believe she wasn't worth fighting for.

"Tell me the truth, Callum," she'd demanded, those blue eyes blazing with pain and anger. "At least give me that much. Tell me why you're throwing us away."

But I couldn't. So I'd said nothing, and she'd finally turned and walked away. The sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway had been the loneliest sound I'd ever heard.

"I do," I finally nodded, worried the man in front of me knew far more than I wanted him to .

After a long moment where he inspected me, peeling back layers I wanted to keep hidden, he finally said, "Yes, then I think you are the perfect warlock for the job."

I finally looked past Dru Crowley to his office, something I usually did first. Then I saw it, a photo. Dru, another man with kind eyes and warm brown skin, and a little girl grinning with one tooth missing. Sage, in pigtails.

"He was my friend," Mr. Crowley said, following my gaze as he picked up the photo. For a moment, I witnessed a grown man go misty-eyed before he blinked it away. "And I think you will be the only one who will help his only child."

This was about Sage. The woman I still loved who hated me. But why?

"Her grandmother, Bertie Blackstone, stepped down as head of the town council a few years back. Sage, as I'm sure you know, has always been..." he trailed off, searching for the right word, "an unusual child."

I felt myself smile. Yes, she was unusual in all the best ways. Crowley shared my smile, mischief twinkling in his gaze. "No one knows this, not even her I suspect, but she's my goddaughter and I've been the worst godfather one can be."

I stayed silent, not judging. I'd done Sage wrong too.

"Recently, Old Hollows has had some missing girls. They say runaways, not from prominent families. I'm told they have shifter blood."

"What does this have to do with Sage?" I asked, leaning forward, my heart pounding.

"I'm getting to that," he said with mild exasperation, weariness showing in the dark circles under his eyes. "Sage hasn't made things easy for herself in that town with her magic. She's... well, she always had a dark sense of humor."

"When did things get bad? I remember them treating her poorly as a child, but she's an adult now."

"From what her grandmother told me, after she returned from college, she was different. No longer working to change people's opinions of her," he stated pointedly, his eyes narrowing on me.

"Then why send me?" I asked, though inside my heart was breaking as I remembered telling Sage we were over, watching her face crumble.

"Because, Mr. Renshaw, when we break something or someone, it's our responsibility to fix it," he glared at me.

"How do you expect me to do that?" I demanded, anger taking hold. "Do you think I wanted to hurt her?" My body tensed as that day hit me again like a freight train.

"I think we all make hard choices for those we love. But they're not always the right choices," he said, his expression softening. "I understand self-sacrifice and regret. I wasn't in this position five years ago. But I am now."

I stared at him, mouth falling open. He knew why I'd walked away. They'd conscripted me, forced me to choose between my service and Sage facing a trial by fire. I'd taken this job to save her from this very organization he now had power in.

His eyes flicked to the photograph again.

"I can't get my friend back, but I can help his daughter.

" The mask slipped for a moment, showing a man tired and plagued with regret.

"I have a proposal for you." He smiled warmly, placing the picture back on the shelf.

"One her Uncle Dru should have done long ago. "

I realized then from where I remembered him. He'd been the only person to speak out in defense of Sage and me at that high council meeting. I leaned forward. "I'm listening."