Page 5

H azel

Flying through the clouds in a Trans Am hadn't been on Hazel's bucket list, but then again, neither had running from her own wedding.

The car sailed smoothly through the air, wrapped in her magic like an invisible bubble, but the strain was building behind her temples.

Levitation spells weren't meant to last this long, especially not on something as heavy as a muscle car with a minotaur in it.

A minotaur who smelled like leather and motor oil and something wild that made her magic want to purr.

"How much longer can you keep this up?" Bullseye asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones.

"Long enough," she managed, though sweat was beading at her hairline. Below them, Sheriff Grizzley's patrol car looked like a toy, joined by what appeared to be half the Arizona State Supernatural Highway Patrol. "Your sheriff friend is persistent."

"He's not my friend. And persistence is what makes him dangerous."

Hopper shifted on her shoulder. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we've got company. Three o'clock high."

A sleek helicopter rose to meet them, rotors beating the air. Through the cockpit window, Hazel could see a vampire pilot, his pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight.

"Seriously?" she muttered. "Of course they'd send a vampire up at night. Perfect vision in the dark."

"Someone who really wants to catch us," Bullseye said. His CB radio crackled.

"Attention, unidentified black Trans Am. This is Lieutenant Fangsworth of the Arizona Supernatural Aviation Unit. You are flying in restricted airspace without proper enchantment permits. Land immediately or we will be forced to take action."

"Lieutenant Fangsworth?" Hopper snorted. "Sounds like he got that name from a vampire baby book."

Bullseye grabbed the radio. "This is, uh..." He glanced at Hazel. "What's a good handle for someone who's definitely not a smuggler?"

"Concerned Motorist?" Hazel suggested.

"Concerned Motorist here," Bullseye said into the radio. "We're experiencing some unexpected automotive levitation. Trying to find a safe place to land."

"Automotive levitation?" Lieutenant Fangsworth's voice dripped skepticism. "Sir, do you think I was turned yesterday? Land that vehicle immediately."

"Working on it," Bullseye replied, then clicked off. "How attached are you to the flying thing?"

An enchanted net shot past their windshield, glowing with binding spells.

"Time to go down," Hazel said, her magic flickering as exhaustion set in. The Trans Am began to descend, wobbling slightly as her concentration wavered.

"Hold on," Bullseye warned.

They hit the desert highway with a bone-jarring thud that Hazel felt in her teeth. The Trans Am bounced twice before settling onto the asphalt. Behind them, headlights pierced the darkness as their pursuit closed in.

"Nice flying," Bullseye said, genuine appreciation warming his voice. "Most people can barely levitate a coffee cup."

"Most people you know?" Heat curled in her stomach at the way he said it, like she was something special.

"Enough to recognize quality work." His dark eyes met hers, and that electric sensation sparked between them again, her magic reaching toward his supernatural energy like a flower turning toward the sun.

The CB radio crackled. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman calling Bullseye. You copy, good buddy?"

Bullseye grabbed the radio. "Snowman, this is Bullseye. Go ahead."

"Just passed the Cactus Flats weigh station, and let me tell you, it's crawling with Smokies. Word's gotten out about your little airshow. Every badge in three counties is looking for a black Trans Am."

"Roger that. Any word on our timeline?"

"Still on track for the pickup, but the heat's getting thick out here. You might want to find yourself a place to lay low."

Hazel listened to the coded exchange, pieces clicking into place. The urgency, the timeline, the way Bullseye's jaw tightened when he talked about their cargo.

"You're smugglers," she said after he signed off. "Actual smugglers."

"I prefer 'transportation specialists,'" Bullseye replied, checking his mirrors.

"And what exactly are you transporting that requires aviation units and half the state's law enforcement?"

"The less you know, the better."

"I just used enough magic to power a small town keeping us airborne, and you think I don't have a right to know?"

Bullseye was quiet, hands tightening on the wheel. When he spoke, his voice was softer. "Magical potions. Enhancement elixirs, healing draughts, some experimental stuff. All highly regulated, mostly illegal to transport cross-country."

"And you're doing this because...?"

"Because the payout is eighty thousand gold, and I need the money." He glanced at her. "What about you? Why run from your wedding? Smokie seemed harmless enough."

Hazel's laugh had no humor in it. "You think a guy who sleeps with a teddy bear and calls his father 'Daddy' is harmless?"

"When you put it like that..."

"It's not the teddy bear. It's the fact that he thinks marrying me means he owns me. Controls what spells I cast, which friends I see. His father already had my magical license suspended twice for 'inappropriate use of witchcraft.'"

"What did you do?"

"Turned a catcalling werewolf's fur hot pink for a week." Her grin was sharp. "Apparently that's 'malicious mischief.'"

Bullseye's chuckle rumbled through the car, and Hazel felt it in places that had nothing to do with her ears. "Remind me not to catcall you."

"Don't worry. I like your natural coloring."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and heat flooded her cheeks. Something about this minotaur made her reckless, made her magic hum with possibilities she'd never considered.

"So what happens when we get caught?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"We don't get caught."

"But if we do?"

"Then you tell them I kidnapped you. Play the victim."

Hazel turned to stare at him. "You'd take the fall for me?"

"You didn't ask for this," he said, eyes fixed ahead. "Besides, I've been in worse scrapes."

Something warm and dangerous unfurled in her chest. This minotaur she'd known for barely an hour was willing to sacrifice himself for her, while Smokie couldn't even remember her favorite flower.

"That's very noble," she said softly. "Also completely unnecessary. I'm not going anywhere."

"Hazel—"

"No, listen. You think I want to go back to a life where my magic is regulated and the most exciting thing I'm allowed to do is arrange flowers for the church social?" She shook her head. "I'd rather be a fugitive."

The CB radio crackled again. "Breaker one-nine, this here's Moondog calling any units in the Phoenix area. Got myself a convoy of Smokies heading east on I-10, looking mighty determined."

Another voice: "This is Stardust, seeing the same on Highway 87. Whatever y'all did, you sure stirred up the hornet's nest."

"Copy that, Moondog and Stardust," Bullseye replied. "Much obliged."

"No problem, Bullseye. Keep the shiny side up and the greasy side down."

More voices joined in, truckers and haulers across three states sharing road conditions and police sightings. A secret network, all watching each other's backs.

"They're helping us," Hazel said, wonder in her voice.

"That's what we do," Bullseye said. "We watch out for each other."

"Even when you're breaking the law?"

"Especially then."

There was something appealing about that loyalty, that belonging. The Three Counties United Witches Society was more about social climbing than real sisterhood.

"Take the next exit," she said suddenly.

"What?"

"Trust me. I know a place we can lay low."

Bullseye looked skeptical but took the exit. "Where?"

"Supernatural truck stop about five miles up. Run by a former coven member of mine. Sage owes me a favor, and she hates law enforcement."

"Why?"

"Long story involving a werewolf deputy, a love potion, and a very unfortunate marriage proposal."

The truck stop appeared like a mirage in the desert night, neon signs advertising "Enchanted Eats" and "24-Hour Potion Refills" casting colorful light across the parking lot.

The lot was packed with magical vehicles—vampire-black Peterbilts with tinted windshields, fairy-dust pink pickups that sparkled under the neon glow.

"Welcome to Sage's Supernatural Stop-N-Go," Hazel said as they parked between a dragon-scale semi and a sentient food truck. "Best coffee this side of the Mississippi and absolutely no questions asked."

Bullseye surveyed the eclectic collection of vehicles and owners under the neon lights. Pixie mechanics worked on a goblin's motorcycle while a centaur argued with a troll about octane ratings near the illuminated fuel pumps.

"Your ex-coven member runs this?"

"Sage believes in providing safe haven for anyone who needs it," Hazel said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "No matter what they're running from."

"Or transporting illegally?"

"Especially that."

As they climbed out, Hazel caught her reflection in the side mirror and winced. Her transformation spell was holding, but her hair looked like she'd been electrocuted.

"I look like I've been through a tornado."

"You look beautiful," Bullseye said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice made her breath catch.

"I look like a disaster."

"A beautiful disaster." His dark eyes were warm.

Her pulse kicked up, that electric sensation dancing along her skin. The way he looked at her—like he could see through all her defenses—should have been terrifying. Instead, it was thrilling.

"We should get inside," she said, voice slightly breathless.

As they walked toward the entrance, Bullseye's hand settled on the small of her back—protective, possessive, sending heat spiraling through her.

"Wait," he said, stopping just before the door.

"What?"

He turned to face her fully, his massive frame blocking out the neon light from the truck stop. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin. "I need to do this."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was hungry and desperate and tasted like danger and promises.

Hazel melted into him, her magic flaring bright as their supernatural energies tangled together.

His other arm came around her waist, pulling her against the solid wall of his chest, and she could feel the rumble of satisfaction in his throat when she kissed him back.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Hazel's magic was sparking visibly in the air around them.

"What was that for?” she asked, heart hammering.

"For luck," he repeated, but his eyes were dark with heat.

"Right. Luck." Her lips were tingling, her magic still reaching toward his like it had found something it had been searching for.

"Oh great," Hopper croaked from her shoulder. "Now we're really in trouble."

Hazel didn't care. For the first time in her life, trouble felt exactly like where she wanted to be.

The CB radio crackled one more time from the Trans Am: "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman. Just hit Los Angeles city limits. ETA to pickup in two hours. How copy, Bullseye?"

Bullseye glanced back at the car, then at Hazel, whose lips were still swollen from his kiss. He reached back into the car and toggled on the microphone."Copy that, Snowman. Bullseye is making a brief stop for supplies. Will catch up shortly."

"Roger that. Try not to get arrested while I'm gone."

"No promises," Bullseye muttered, following Hazel into the truck stop, his hand still warm on her back.