Page 6

B ullseye

Sage's Supernatural Stop-N-Go looked like someone had taken a regular truck stop and fed it a handful of rainbow-colored mushrooms. The building itself seemed to shift colors depending on the angle of view, and the neon signs advertising "Magically Delicious Coffee" and "Hexed Ham Sandwiches" flickered in languages that probably predated written history, all casting eerie glows in the desert night.

"She sure has interesting decorating taste," Bullseye said as they approached the entrance, stepping around a gargoyle that was apparently the door greeter. It tipped its stone hat politely.

"Sage believes ambiance is important," Hazel replied. "She says if you're going to run a business that caters to the supernatural underground, you might as well embrace the aesthetic."

The moment they walked through the door, a petite woman with silver hair and violet eyes materialized behind the counter—literally materialized, in a shower of sparkles that made Bullseye's nose itch.

"Hazel Thornfield!" the woman exclaimed, her voice carrying a slight accent that sounded like it came from somewhere that probably didn't exist on most maps. "What in the seven hells are you doing here? And why do you look like you've been through a blender?"

"Hello, Sage," Hazel said, glancing around the truck stop. "I need a favor."

"Don't you always." Sage's gaze shifted to Bullseye, and her eyebrows rose appreciatively. "And who's your friend? Because honey, if that's what's causing your magical aura to do that sparkly thing, I approve."

Bullseye felt heat creep up his neck. Hazel's magic had been doing something to him all night, making his minotaur instincts more aware of her presence, her scent, the way she moved.

"My magical aura is not doing a sparkly thing," Hazel protested, though her cheeks had turned pink.

"Sweet child, your aura is practically disco-balling right now." Sage grinned, revealing teeth that seemed to have tiny stars embedded in them. "Either you've been eating glitter, or you've got it bad for the walking mountain of muscle beside you."

Bullseye's chest rumbled with a satisfied sound he couldn't quite suppress. The idea that Hazel's magic was responding to him sent a primitive thrill through his system.

"Smart frog," Sage said approvingly when Hopper made a disparaging comment. "I like him. So, what kind of favor are we talking about? Because I just saw about thirty patrol cars go screaming past here, and something tells me they weren't chasing speeders."

"We need a place to lay low for a few hours," Hazel said. "And maybe some... alternate clothing options."

"Lay low from who?" Sage's expression turned serious. "Please tell me you didn't hex Sheriff Lawman again."

"Not exactly," Hazel hedged.

"She ran out on his son's wedding," Bullseye supplied. "It was actually impressive."

Sage's eyes lit up with delight. "You finally told little Smokie to take a long walk off a short cliff? Oh, this is the best news I've heard all month!"

She led them through the main dining area, past tables full of supernatural creatures conducting their nighttime business—werewolves, vampires, and various beings that were harder to classify in the dim, neon-washed lighting.

"Tuesday nights are always a little weird," Sage said cheerfully.

They passed through a doorway marked "Private - Violators Will Be Transformed Into Something Unpleasant" and found themselves in what appeared to be Sage's living quarters. The space was surprisingly cozy, with overstuffed chairs that looked designed for beings much larger than the average human.

"Expansion charms," Sage said, noticing Bullseye's confused look. "Very handy when you're entertaining minotaurs."

When Hazel settled into the chair closest to his, her knee brushed against his leg, and Bullseye felt that familiar jolt of electric awareness. Her scent—something like wildflowers and magic—wrapped around him, making his mouth go dry.

Sage waved her hand, and a coffee service appeared on the table between them—actual china cups with coffee that smelled like it had been blessed by caffeine gods.

"So," Sage said, settling into her own chair with a cup that steamed purple, "let's hear the whole story."

As Hazel launched into their evening's adventures, Bullseye found himself studying her profile.

In the warm light of Sage's living room, she was even more beautiful.

Her magic had settled into a subtle glow that seemed to emanate from her skin, and when she gestured, tiny sparks danced between her fingers.

"—and then we were flying," Hazel was saying, "which was amazing until the helicopter showed up."

"Lieutenant Fangsworth," Sage said knowingly. "That boy couldn't catch a cold in a blizzard."

"So you'll help us?" Hazel asked.

"Honey, I'd help you just for the entertainment value." Sage's violet eyes fixed on Bullseye. "But there's more to this story, isn't there? Because no offense, sugar, but you've got 'professional troublemaker' written all over you."

Bullseye nearly choked on his coffee. "That obvious?"

"The way you keep checking sight lines to the exits, the fact that you're carrying multiple communication devices, and the general air of 'I regularly outrun federal agents for fun and profit' kind of gives it away.

" Sage grinned. "Plus, Hazel's taste in men has always tended toward the exciting side of disaster. "

Something possessive and satisfied curled in Bullseye's chest at being lumped in with Hazel's romantic history, even if the comparison wasn't entirely flattering.

"I do not have a type," Hazel protested.

"Wood nymph. Storm wizard. That vampire who turned out to be married to three different people in four different centuries. And now a minotaur who's clearly running from something bigger than wedding drama."

Bullseye's CB radio crackled to life. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman calling Bullseye. You copy?"

He unclipped the radio. "Go ahead, Snowman."

"Just wanted to update you on my status, good buddy. Got the cargo loaded and I'm eastbound on I-10. Everything's secured and looking good. How's your situation?"

"Currently taking a break for supplies and strategic planning," Bullseye replied, very aware that both women were listening intently.

"Roger that. I'm hearing chatter about increased Smokey activity in your area. Might want to keep your head down."

"What kind of chatter?"

"Word is, that bear sheriff put out an APB on a black Trans Am. He's calling in favors from every supernatural law enforcement agency in the Southwest. This is personal for him now."

Bullseye grimaced. "Any word on timeline?"

"Still on schedule for our thirty-six hour window, but things are heating up. Some truckers are reporting checkpoint activity. You might want to find an alternate route."

"Copy that. Thanks for the heads up, Snowman."

"No problem, Bullseye. Keep the shiny side up."

"Snowman?" Sage asked with obvious amusement after he clipped the radio back.

"It's a CB handle," he said defensively.

"It's perfect," Hazel said, and the warmth in her voice made something twist pleasantly in his chest. "Very... you."

"So," Sage said, leaning forward, "what kind of cargo requires thirty-six hour deadlines and that level of law enforcement interest?"

Bullseye and Hazel exchanged glances. "The highly regulated kind," Hazel said finally.

"Enhancement potions," Bullseye added. "Experimental stuff. Worth enough to make it very illegal to transport."

Sage whistled low. "That's serious money. No wonder half the state is looking for you." She paused, then grinned. "This is fantastic! I haven't had this much excitement since that dragon biker gang decided to use my parking lot for a turf war."

"You're not concerned about harboring fugitives?" Hazel asked.

"Honey, half my regular customers are fugitives. Besides, Grizzley Lawman arrested my nephew last month for 'aggressive flower arranging.' I owe that bear some payback."

The sound of vehicles pulling into the parking lot drifted through the walls. A lot of vehicles, with the distinctive whine of official sirens.

"Speak of the devil," Sage said cheerfully, moving to peek through the curtains. "Looks like we've got company."

Bullseye was on his feet instantly, every instinct screaming danger. "How many?"

"Four patrol cars, two SUVs, and what appears to be a mobile command unit shaped like a giant acorn." Sage let the curtain fall back. "That would be Sheriff Lawman's pride and joy."

"They're not here for us," Hazel said, but she didn't sound convinced. "Right?"

"Magic," Sage said simply. "Your aura might be pretty, honey, but it's also distinctive. Any decent tracker could follow that trail." She brightened. "On the other hand, my establishment has some very interesting magical protections. Want to see them in action?"

A loud voice boomed across the parking lot, amplified by what sounded like a magical megaphone.

"Attention Sage's Supernatural Stop-n-Go. This is Sheriff Grizzley T. Lawman of Fairweather County. We have reports of suspicious activity. Please cooperate with our investigation."

"All right, here's what we're going to do," Sage said, moving to a wardrobe that definitely hadn't been there moments before.

"Hazel, you're going to put on that blue dress and the glamour jewelry—it'll mask your magical signature.

Bullseye, you get the enchanted shirt and vest. Then you're both going to walk out there, order some pie, and act like the most boring couple in supernatural history. "

"Boring?" Hazel looked offended.

"Trust me, honey. Boring is invisible." Sage winked. "Besides, if you two can't pull off looking like a couple, I'll eat my witch's hat."

Bullseye felt heat rise in his face. Pretending to be Hazel's boyfriend was dangerous territory. His minotaur instincts were already way too interested in making that fantasy a reality. Every time she looked at him, every casual touch, every breath of her scent made him want to claim her properly.

"We can do boring," he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt.

"Speak for yourself," Hopper muttered. "I've seen this witch try to act normal. Remember the time you tried to blend in at that human coffee shop and accidentally enchanted the espresso machine to sing opera?"

"That was one time!" Hazel protested.

"That's what makes you perfect for each other," Sage said with satisfaction. "Neither of you knows how to do anything the easy way."

Outside, Sheriff Lawman's voice boomed again. "We’re going to conduct some interviews outside and then we’re coming in."

“Thanks for the warning,” Bullseye muttered.

“He’s hoping to flush us out,” Hazel said.

"All right, you two, time for the quick change. Bathrooms are through that door—spelled for privacy and rapid costume changes."

Bullseye grabbed the black shirt and leather vest, while Hazel picked up the blue dress and what appeared to be a necklace made of color-shifting stones.

"What exactly is this jewelry supposed to do?" she asked.

"Magical camouflage. It'll make your aura look like garden-variety hedge witch instead of 'powerful enough to make cars fly.'"

"I am not boring," Hazel muttered, heading for her bathroom.

"No," Bullseye said quietly, watching her go, his chest tight with want, "you're definitely not."

When she disappeared behind the bathroom door, he realized Sage was staring at him with knowing eyes.

"You've got it bad," she said matter-of-factly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Honey, I run a truck stop. I've seen every kind of attraction there is, from pixie crushes to dragon mating bonds.

And you, sugar, are looking at my friend like she hung the moon and stars.

" Sage's expression turned serious. "Just be careful with her, okay?

Hazel's been hurt before. That whole thing with Smokie wasn't about love—it was about trying to find somewhere safe to belong. "

Bullseye's hands clenched into fists. The idea of anyone hurting Hazel made his minotaur side roar with protective fury. "I won't hurt her."

"I believe you," Sage said softly. "But sometimes the worst hurt comes from the best intentions."

Before he could ask what she meant, Sheriff Lawman's voice cut through the air again.

"Time's up. We're coming in."

"Show time," Sage said. "Go get changed, sugar. Let's see how boring you two can be."

Bullseye headed for his bathroom, mind racing. Pretending to be Hazel's boyfriend was either going to be the easiest acting job of his life, or the most difficult. Because the hardest part wouldn't be convincing anyone else they were together.

The hardest part would be convincing himself it was just pretend.

When he emerged in the enchanted shirt and vest—both of which fit perfectly and hummed with protective magic—Hazel was already waiting.

The blue dress hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth go dry, and the glamour jewelry had indeed dampened her magical signature to something subtle and harmless-seeming.

She looked beautiful. And she looked like she belonged to him.

"Ready?" she asked, and there was a slight tremor in her voice that suggested she was as affected by their proximity as he was.

"Ready," he said, offering her his arm like a proper boyfriend would.

When she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, her touch sent heat racing through his system. Thirty-six hours suddenly didn't seem like nearly enough time.