Page 32 of Uncharmed
Annie was determined that she would deal with this.
Not that she doubted for a second that Maeve could handle herself and would reality-check the man into questioning his own existential worth, but it was unthinkable.
Part of her was even slightly grateful for an interaction where she could rely on the spell again, to navigate things successfully in a perfectly polite and friendly manner.
At least it had come back to help her last night; Hal had backed down so quickly, the effects of renewed Splendidus Infernum helping to defuse the tension of her spoon-based threats.
The memory of Hal’s snarky comment about her pyjamas ensured that she dressed quickly and made herself look more put-together, conjuring jeans and a pink shirt and sweeping her hair into a curly ponytail and headscarf before heading downstairs to make a coffee-based peace offering.
He had, albeit unwillingly, given them his home after all.
Manoeuvring the front door open with her hip, she tiptoed out onto the porch with two mugs of her favourite maple spice blend, placing one down on the wooden boards next to the swing.
Hal was still fast asleep on his back, an arm swung lazily behind his head to rest on.
He hadn’t even bothered to conjure himself a pillow or a blanket, covering himself with his heavy, sheepskin jacket instead.
He was at least two foot too long to even be attempting to sleep on the swing.
Somehow he’d managed it though; he was clearly used to sleeping uncomfortably for his field work.
Leaning on the porch rail, watching his chest rise and fall in a slow rhythm of sleep, Annie took the chance to size him up a little better than she’d been able to in the dark.
He was, she noted with a wrinkled nose, still filthy from head to toe and, judging by the way that he’d managed to fall asleep in such a ridiculous position, he must have been roughing it while out on his banshee scouting.
But, beneath all of the caked-on mud and smudges of grubbiness, he did have nice hair, she had to admit.
Long and scruffy to his shoulders, pushed back but stubbornly still falling into his face while he slept.
Long, thick eyelashes that were wasted on a warlock, a slightly crooked nose and, behind the tangle of beard, she could see a strong, square jawline.
‘Stop watching me sleep.’
Hal lifted his hat and lazily opened one green eye. His surly voice croaked extra deep with his first words of the morning and Annie startled backwards in her slippers.
‘Stop pretending to be asleep!’ she retorted, embarrassed to be caught out.
He closed his eyes again and shifted his body with a grimace. ‘I wasn’t pretending. But the smell of my first decent cup of coffee in three months would be enough to wake me from the grave.’
‘In that case, special delivery,’ Annie said, gesturing to the cup she’d left beside him. It felt a little like she’d taken a chance with feeding a wild animal and then returned to a safe distance. He peered through one eye again and then glanced back at her from under his brow.
‘Room service, hey?’
‘It’s probably the least I can do.’ She leaned against the porch post and moved her weight onto her other leg, trying to appear nonchalant.
Hal leaned down to pick up the mug and swung his legs over to a seated position with a groan.
Holding the coffee in one hand, he used his other to push down his shoulders and adjust his neck muscles.
‘Actually, you’re right,’ he groaned. ‘You’re on coffee duty for the foreseeable.’
‘That seems fair, seeing as we’ve accidentally invaded your home. Sorry about that, by the way.’
He looked at her for a moment over the top of his mug while he blew on the steam, then gestured with a nod towards the wicker armchair at the end of the porch.
It had previously been splintered and unbraided, covered in cobwebs and animal droppings, but Annie had made light work of the transformation.
Now it was a gleaming brown, with a red gingham cushion to match the curtains.
He brought it a foot closer towards him with quick magic and she accepted the wordless invitation to join him.
‘Early riser, then, huh?’ Hal asked, taking a first tentative sip and then leaning back with his eyes closed and a low hum of pleasure.
Annie, mortified to find that she was staring, turned fixedly out onto the meadow.
Thankfully her attention was stolen by a whole family of hares lolloping their way through the rustling grass, the dawn dew catching the tops of their ears.
A hedgehog was snuffling its way along the shallow steps of the porch and a pair of bats swooped low enough to skim the tops of the wildflowers.
A hush of lemon-meringue clouds in the pink and pale-blue sky was just starting to brighten behind the band of trees.
‘I’m not a big sleeper,’ Annie said.
‘Yet somehow you look as well rested as a woman who just got back from an all-expenses-paid trip to paradise. Lucky girl,’ he said, eyes still closed with his head resting back on the top of the swinging bench. She blamed her own paranoia for the possible tone of scepticism in his voice.
‘I take my skincare very seriously,’ she said casually. ‘Now, where do we start in our negotiations?’
‘I don’t know about any negotiations. Let’s just start with what you’re actually doing here, shall we?
’ Every time Hal looked at her, his gaze lingered a second longer than would have been considered polite, as though he had to force himself to look away.
The spell was working and she felt the relief of it.
It did feel strange, somehow more potent than usual, but Annie had been holed up with Maeve and had felt none of the usual response to her perfection for days on end.
Sometimes she forgot how powerful it could be.
‘It’s simple. I’m here until Maeve doesn’t need me any more. She’s only fifteen. This is all very new to her and she’s showing certain...tendencies that aren’t safe to be left to flower around non-wicchefolk.’
‘Tendencies.’ Hal nodded with a smirk. ‘I’m assuming that’s your gracious way of saying the kid loves to blow stuff up. So glad my house could be of service for that particular habit.’
‘I haven’t seen her explode a single thing,’ Annie said defensively, circling the rim of her mug with a thoughtful finger. ‘Oh, actually...’ She recalled the pumpkin. ‘Generally, it tends to be more...flame-related.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘But we’re making progress already. We’re on day...’ Annie bit down on her lip as she calculated on one hand, ‘...seven of no spontaneous fires around the place, so you really have to admire the development there, at least.’
‘Seven whole days? Now I’ll rest easy.’
‘Oh, wait...I forgot about the kitchen.’
‘That explains my singed curtains. Can I ask where her parents are?’
‘She doesn’t know her father; her mother left a long time ago.
Selcouth picked up on the arrival of her magic, but have no tracings of heritage to work with, not a single wicche relative to help uncover its nature.
They decided to step in when she accidentally caused flamey chaos at her foster home. ’
‘And that’s where you come into all of this?’
‘For one reason or another, Morena thought we’d be a good fit. I think it’s just about having someone here with her, to give her a safe space so that she can spend some time away from normal life and experiment. Throw her magic around a little, see what makes it soar.’
Hal gave her an upside-down smile. ‘Very poetic.’
‘Thank you. But, as you can see, we are now in a pickle.’
‘And I’m sensing that I don’t get a whole lot of choice in this pickle. What if I’m not a pickle guy?’
‘Well, then you are wrong, because pickles make everything better. Besides, it’s coven orders. Can’t argue with that.’ Annie shrugged innocently, paired with her best and most angelic smile.
‘Is that so?’ He paused. ‘Alright, a man knows when he’s defeated.’
‘Ha,’ Annie said triumphantly, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded.
‘No need to look so pleased about it. Obviously I’m not going to turf you out. If you both need a place to stay, then so be it. I can set myself up out here until Selcouth says it’s time for you to go. Got a tent in my rucksack.’
‘We can’t ask you to do that. This is your house. There must be...’ Annie struggled to think of a counter-offer.
‘It’s not a problem. Haven’t exactly got the room in this place for conjuring new furniture. Like you said, this is about Maeve – I don’t want to make either of you feel weird about some guy being here.’
Hal smiled and continued: ‘Consider it the Bancroft Compromise. My dad always used to say that for when my mum got her way and it involved absolutely no compromise in the slightest.’ His half-smile quickly turned into a frown, as though he wasn’t sure why he’d just shared that.
‘I am however saying this on the assumption that it won’t be for too much longer.
If you’re still here for New Year then I might have to set a banshee on you. ’
‘I don’t think it will be for that long, but...Look, if Maeve is comfortable with it – and I mean genuinely comfortable; trust me, I’ll know if she’s lying – then you should at least sleep on the sofa.’
He leaned back again, stretching an arm over the top of the swing. ‘This bed isn’t so bad.’
‘Unless you happen to be a secret contortionist, then that’s not true. I’ve heard plenty of wicchefolk vouch for you before. And I’m confident that no warlock who’s ever encountered Morena Gowden would dare to upset her charges. Take the couch,’ Annie insisted.