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The sketch pad displayed surprisingly accurate images of both of them, though Hazel noticed with relief that her current appearance was different enough to avoid immediate recognition.

"Hazel Thornfield," Sheriff Lawman added, his voice carrying across the dining room. "Five foot six, brown hair, green eyes, prone to magical outbursts and poor life choices. If anyone's seen her, there's a reward."

"How much of a reward?" called out the centaur.

"Enough to make it worth your while," the sheriff replied. "This woman is dangerous. She assaulted law enforcement officers with weaponized amphibians and fled custody."

"Weaponized amphibians," one of the werewolves repeated with obvious amusement. "That's a new one."

Hazel forced herself to lean into Bullseye's side like a woman who was more interested in her boyfriend than police business. His arm came around her shoulders immediately, and she had to fight not to purr at the feeling of being surrounded by his warmth and strength.

The questioning continued around the room, but no one had seen anything useful. The glamour held perfectly as Sheriff Lawman and Agent Fernandez made their rounds, and Hazel began to think they might actually pull this off.

Then Sage appeared at their table with two plates of apple pie that smelled like heaven and probably contained enough sugar to fuel a small aircraft.

"Here you go," she said, setting the plates down. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Hazel said, picking up her fork. The pie was actually delicious, but she barely tasted it. All of her attention was focused on the warm weight of Bullseye's arm around her shoulders and the way his thumb was stroking absently against her upper arm.

They were just two more customers enjoying a quiet evening, completely unremarkable and uninteresting to law enforcement.

That's when the werewolves decided to get curious.

"Hey," one of them said, standing up and stretching. "Think I'll grab some coffee."

His path to the counter took him directly past their table, and as he walked by, Hazel saw his nostrils flare slightly. He paused, a frown creasing his features, then continued to the counter.

"Something's not right," she heard him mutter to his packmates when he returned.

The second werewolf looked up from his meal. "What do you mean?"

"That couple by the window. Something's off about their scent."

Hazel's blood turned to ice water. Enhanced werewolf senses—she should have thought of that. The glamour could disguise their appearance and magical signatures, but it couldn't completely mask their natural scents.

"Off how?" the third werewolf asked, now looking directly at their table.

"Can't put my finger on it. Like they're wearing magical cologne or something."

Sheriff Lawman's attention snapped toward the werewolves' table. "What did you say?"

"Nothing important," the first werewolf replied quickly, but it was too late. The sheriff was already moving toward them, his small eyes fixed on Hazel and Bullseye with new interest.

"Excuse me," Sheriff Lawman said, approaching their table. "Mind if I ask you folks a few questions?"

"Of course not," Hazel said, hoping she sounded helpful rather than terrified. "Though I'm not sure how much help we'll be. We've just been here having pie."

"How long have you been here?"

"About twenty minutes," Bullseye replied smoothly. "We're on our way back from visiting my mother in Phoenix. Stopped for coffee and dessert."

"And you are?"

"Mike Stevens," Bullseye said without missing a beat. "This is my girlfriend, Hannah."

Agent Fernandez had joined them now, his enchanted notepad ready. "Either of you happen to see a black Trans Am in the last few hours? Late model, heavily modified, probably driving at excessive speeds?"

"Can't say that we have," Bullseye replied. "We've been taking the scenic route, staying off the main highways. Hannah likes to look at the desert flowers."

"I'm a nature photographer," Hazel added, warming to the story. "Wildflower season is just starting."

"At night?" Agent Fernandez raised an eyebrow.

"Some of the best magical blooms only open under moonlight," Hazel said smoothly. "You have to know where to look."

It was a good cover story—believable, boring, and uninteresting to law enforcement. But Sheriff Lawman wasn't buying it. He leaned closer, his nostrils flaring slightly like he was trying to catch their scent.

"Funny thing," he said slowly. "My boys over there seem to think you smell like magic. Specifically, concealment magic."

The glamour flickered.

Hazel felt it happen—a tiny slip in the magical disguise that made her hair shimmer briefly back to its natural color before the illusion reasserted itself. But it was enough.

"Well, I'll be damned," Sheriff Lawman breathed, recognition dawning in his small eyes. "Hazel Thornfield."

Agent Fernandez was already reaching for his handcuffs when Hazel's magic flared instinctively. "Blamo," she hissed, and the federal agent went flying backward into a table of startled vampires.

"Magic," Sheriff Lawman said, pointing at her with grim satisfaction. "That's witch magic. Strawberries and trouble." His nostrils flared again. "I knew it."

Every eye in the truck stop turned toward their table. The glamour was failing completely now, her magical disguise dissolving like morning mist. Hazel felt Bullseye tense beside her, his arm tightening around her shoulders.

"Well, shit," he murmured.

Sheriff Lawman was staring at them with fury, his small eyes taking in Bullseye's face as the illusion fell away completely. "You," he said, pointing a meaty finger at their table. "Both of you. Don't move."

"Time to go," Bullseye said quietly, but before they could make a move, Sheriff Lawman was advancing on them with the determination of an enraged grizzly bear.

Which, Hazel realized, he basically was.

"Hazel Thornfield," he said, his voice carrying across the now-silent truck stop. "You're under arrest for destruction of property, assault with a magical weapon, and ruining my son's wedding."

"Ruining his wedding?" Hazel stood up, her temper flaring despite the danger. "I did him a favor. That wedding was a disaster waiting to happen."

"The cake alone cost three thousand smackeroonies."

"The cake was hideous. It looked like a marshmallow threw up on a disco ball."

Sheriff Lawman lunged for her, but Bullseye was faster. He stood up and put himself between them, all six and a half feet of protective minotaur male.

"I don't think so," he said quietly, and there was something in his voice that made everyone in the truck stop go very still.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Sheriff Lawman demanded. "Besides an accessory after the fact?"

"I'm the guy who's not going to let you lay a hand on her," Bullseye replied. "So I suggest you back off."

Hazel's heart did something complicated in her chest at the protective edge in his voice. No one had ever stood up for her like that before—not her parents, not her ex-boyfriends, certainly not Smokie.

"Wait a minute," Agent Fernandez said, picking himself up from the floor and staring at Bullseye with sudden recognition.

"I know you." He pulled out a tablet and swiped through what looked like mugshots.

"Bullseye Maverick. You're wanted for questioning in connection with the Phoenix potion heist last year. "

"Time to go," Bullseye said again.

"Both of you, hands where I can see them," Agent Fernandez ordered, reaching for his cuffs again.

But before anyone could move, Sage's voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Boys, boys," she called out sweetly. "Let's keep this civilized. Sheriff, you're welcome to try to arrest my customers, but I should probably mention that this establishment has some very specific magical protections in place."

"What kind of protections?" Sheriff Lawman demanded.

"The kind that get very cranky when law enforcement officers harass paying customers without proper warrants." Sage's smile was bright and cheerful. "You do have a warrant, don't you, Grizzley?"

The silence stretched out. Agent Fernandez cleared his throat. "Actually, Sheriff, we're here on a preliminary investigation. We don't have arrest warrants yet."

"Then I suggest you get some," Sage said pleasantly, "because otherwise, you're just a bunch of folks in uniform bothering my customers. And my establishment's protections take a very dim view of that sort of behavior."

As if summoned by her words, the truck stop's lights began to flicker in a distinctly ominous pattern. The werewolves grinned, showing their teeth. The centaur stamped his hooves approvingly. Even the gargoyle door greeter seemed to be leaning forward with interest.

Sheriff Lawman looked around the room, clearly weighing his options. Finally, he pointed at Hazel again. "This isn't over, young lady. I will find you, and when I do, you're going to pay for what you did to my son."

"What I did to your son," Hazel repeated, "was save him from a lifetime of misery with someone who doesn't love him. You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you? You humiliated him. You broke his heart."

"His heart will recover. His ego, maybe not so much, but that was probably overinflated anyway."

"Oh, this is entertaining," Hopper croaked from her shoulder, where he'd been unusually quiet. "Nothing like a good public argument to really sell the 'laying low' strategy."

Sheriff Lawman looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "You are a menace to society. And now I'm in hot pursuit."

"Drama queen," Hazel shot back. "Seriously, it was one wedding. It's not like I burned down the whole venue."

"You turned the kitchen into a disaster zone."

"Hopper summoned every frog in the county. They got to have the adventure of a lifetime."

"And the frogs are probably still telling stories about their big adventure," Hopper added cheerfully. "Really brought the community together."

Bullseye's hand found hers under the table and squeezed. When she looked at him, he was grinning.