Page 10

B ullseye

The sound of approaching engines was getting louder, which meant they had maybe thirty seconds before whoever was hunting them crested the ridge and spotted the Trans Am.

Bullseye's mind raced through their options: fight, flight, or try to hide behind rocks that probably wouldn't conceal a motorcycle, let alone a muscle car.

"Can you do that flying thing again?" he asked Hazel, gunning the engine.

"Not without at least a few days to recover," she replied, gripping the dashboard as they bounced over the rough desert terrain. "But I might have something else. How do you feel about temporary invisibility?"

"I feel like it's our best option right now."

"It'll only last about ten minutes, and it's going to feel really weird." Hazel was already pulling magical energy around them, her hands glowing with soft blue light. "Also, we have to stay perfectly still while it's active. Any movement breaks the spell."

"Define perfectly still."

"Like, don't even breathe heavy."

"This ought to be good," Hopper croaked from her shoulder. "Last time she tried invisibility magic, she accidentally made herself transparent but not her clothes. Very awkward at the grocery store."

The engines were getting closer. Through the rearview mirror, Bullseye could see dust clouds marking the approach of at least three vehicles.

"Do it," he said, pulling behind the largest boulder he could find and cutting the engine.

"Hold onto me," Hazel said, her magic flaring brighter. "This works better with physical contact."

Bullseye didn't need to be told twice. He reached for her just as the invisibility spell kicked in, and suddenly the world went soft and hazy around the edges. His hand found her waist, and she pressed closer to him, her back against his chest.

Being perfectly still while Hazel was pressed against him was its own kind of torture.

She fit against his chest like she belonged there, her head tucked just under his chin, and every breath she took made her body move in ways that were decidedly distracting.

Her magic was wrapping around them both like a warm blanket, and underneath that, he could smell her shampoo—something floral that made him want to bury his face in her hair.

Three black SUVs crested the ridge, moving fast and kicking up clouds of dust. They were sleek, expensive rental vehicles, and had the kind of tinted windows that screamed "law enforcement with unlimited overtime budgets."

The vehicles spread out in a search pattern, their occupants clearly looking for something. Or someone.

Through the windshield of the lead SUV, Hazel could see Sheriff Lawman's massive frame squeezed behind the wheel, his face red with determination and fury.

One of the SUVs stopped less than twenty feet from their hiding spot. Doors opened and several figures emerged—Sheriff Lawman, federal agents in serious suits, and oh goddess no, Smokie himself in a wrinkled tuxedo, looking like a dejected teddy bear.

"I'm telling you, Daddy, they came this way," Smokie was saying, his voice carrying clearly in the desert air and making Hazel's stomach clench with recognition. "I can still smell her perfume on the wind."

"Son, you couldn't track a wet bear through fresh snow," Sheriff Lawman replied, his voice tight with irritation. "Let the professionals handle the tracking."

"But Daddy, I know Hazel better than anyone. We were going to be married! I understand her... her feminine mystique and whatnot."

"Your understanding of feminine mystique is why she ran away in the first place, boy."

"That's not fair, Daddy! Mr. Snuggles said she just had pre-wedding jitters!"

Sheriff Lawman turned to stare at his son with the expression of a man questioning his life choices. "You discussed your relationship problems with a teddy bear."

"Mr. Snuggles is an excellent listener! And he has very insightful opinions about—"

"Son, if you mention that blasted bear one more time, I'm going to use it for target practice."

One of the federal agents was using some kind of magical detection device, sweeping it back and forth like a metal detector. "Sheriff, I'm getting readings of recent magical activity in this area. Powerful concealment magic."

Against his chest, Hazel tensed. Her magic flickered slightly, and Bullseye could feel her concentration wavering. He tightened his arms around her, offering what comfort he could without moving enough to break the spell.

"See, Daddy?" Smokie said proudly. "I told you she came this way. My future bride is very magical. Very... enchanting. Like a beautiful woodland sprite who—"

"Boy, she left you at the altar," Sheriff Lawman growled. "She ain't your future anything except your future restraining order violation."

"You don't understand our connection, Daddy. What Hazel and I have is special. Sacred. It transcends normal human—"

"What you had was an arranged engagement and a cake that cost more than my patrol car. Now stop mooning around and help me find her so I can arrest her for destruction of property!"

"I don't want her arrested, Daddy! I want her back! Maybe if we just talked to her, explained how sorry we are—"

"WE ain't sorry about nothing! SHE'S the one who turned our kitchen into a frog convention and embarrassed this family in front of half the county!"

"The frogs were kind of cute though," Smokie said wistfully. "Very... nature-y. Hazel always did love nature. Remember that time she tried to domesticate those wild raccoons?"

"I remember the time you had to get rabies shots because of those damn raccoons!"

"They were probably fine, Daddy. The vet said the chances of actual rabies were very low."

"You needed fourteen shots, boy! Fourteen!"

"Should we wait them out?" one of the federal agents asked, clearly trying to get the conversation back on track.

"No point," Sheriff Lawman replied. "Concealment spells don't last long. We'll sweep the area again in twenty minutes, after whatever they're using wears off. Nobody makes a fool out of the Lawman family and gets away with it."

"I still think if we just brought Mr. Snuggles, Hazel would listen to reason," Smokie said hopefully. "He has a very calming presence."

"I swear, boy, sometimes I wonder if you were switched at birth with someone else's cub."

"That's hurtful, Daddy. Mr. Snuggles says you should use more positive reinforcement in our relationship."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Hopper muttered so quietly only Hazel could hear. "The teddy bear is giving relationship advice now? And they wonder why you ran."

The group climbed back into their vehicles and roared off, leaving nothing but dust and the lingering scent of sage and righteous fury.

Hazel slumped against him as the invisibility spell dissolved, leaving them visible again but apparently undetected.

"Well," she said breathlessly, "that was terrifying."

"You did great," Bullseye said, his arms still around her. She hadn't moved away, and he wasn't in any hurry to let go. "How did you know they'd assume we were using concealment magic?"

"Because that's what any sensible witch would do in our situation." She turned in his arms to face him, which put them very close together in the confined space of the car. "Most people don't think to look for actual invisibility—it's much harder to maintain and requires more power."

"Good thing you're not most people."

"No," she agreed softly, her green eyes meeting his, "I'm definitely not."

"Also good thing they left before I sneezed," Hopper added helpfully. "Because I was about to blow that spell sky-high. Dust makes me twitchy."

The moment stretched between them, charged with the same electricity that had led to their kiss earlier. But before either of them could act on it, Bullseye's CB radio crackled to life.

"Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman with an urgent message for Bullseye. Do you copy?"

Bullseye reluctantly released Hazel and grabbed the radio. "Go ahead, Snowman."

"I've got some bad news and some worse news. Which do you want first?"

"Hit me with the bad news."

"Those witch types? They're not just looking for you. They're setting up roadblocks on every major route between here and our delivery point. I counted at least six checkpoint positions, all with some serious magical firepower."

"And the worse news?"

"They've got magical tracking equipment. High-grade stuff that can follow a signature through most concealment spells. Whatever they want to stop about our cargo, they want it stopped real bad."

Hazel paled. "High-grade tracking? That's... that's not legal for civilian use."

"When has legality ever stopped people with enough money and righteous fury?" Bullseye asked grimly. "Snowman, what's your current status?"

"I'm holed up at a truck stop about sixty miles east of Flagstaff. Got friendly truckers keeping watch, but I can't stay here long. These witch ladies seem real motivated to stop our shipment, if you catch my meaning."

"We copy. What's the new plan?"

"I've been talking to some of the local drivers. There's a back route through the Painted Desert—old mining roads, mostly. It'll add eight hours to our journey, but it should keep us off their radar."

"Eight hours?" Bullseye did quick mental math. They'd already burned twelve hours of their thirty-six hour window. "That puts us right at the deadline."

"Better late than caught, good buddy. Besides, I've got some ideas about how to make up time once we're clear of the surveillance net. But we need to coordinate our approach. This delivery isn't just a simple drop-off."

"What do you mean?"

"The clients want both vehicles present for the handover. Something about security protocols and chain of custody. We need to rendezvous at the pickup point, then travel together to the delivery location."

Bullseye's jaw tightened. That was news to him. "When were you planning to mention this?"