7. Freddie #2
Holy shit. Why was that wink so ridiculously hot? My heart does an obnoxious little pirouette behind my ribs, and I have to grip the edge of the table just to keep my face completely blank.
He leans in closer, his smirk fading into something sharper, more focused. “You’re a witch, right?”
“Allegedly…” I say slowly, dragging out the word while eyeing him suspiciously.
“So, is there any way you can figure out how to get me outside of this Veil?”
I let out a harsh scoff. “Are you out of your mind? Are you actually serious right now?”
Callum doesn’t blink. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“You’re casually asking me to commit high treason against the Council,” I say, dropping my voice into a low whisper so the kitchen staff doesn’t overhear.
“Do you know what the penalty is for tampering with a municipal Veil spell? They don’t just give you a stern talking-to.
They bind your magic, strip your registry, and throw you in an underground ward until your hair turns grey.
It’s not just a little slap on the wrist, Callum. ”
Callum’s shoulders slump as he stares down at his coffee. “Right,” he grunts softly. “Forget I asked. You’re right. I can’t ask you to do that.”
The total defeat written across his features hits me squarely in the chest. It must suck to be completely stranded in a town full of creatures and magic you don’t understand, knowing your family is back home and will eventually start worrying their heads off.
I love my family—as crazy as Delphi and this town can be, I couldn’t imagine a world where I was suddenly ripped away from them without a trace.
But…is it even possible?
How the hell would I sneak him past Mayor Brightfang’s border patrol guards on the ridge?
I don’t even know the advanced spellwork required to rip a temporary hole in the Veil.
And even if I did…what if messing with the boundary makes it collapse further?
What if more people went missing because of my stupid mistake?
I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.
If I did this, I’d have to be very careful.
I let out a slow sigh. “Look.”
Callum’s head snaps up, a guarded spark of hope glimmering in his eyes.
I lean forward across the table, resting my chin in my palm. “I’ll help you. But you’re going to help me in return.”
He doesn’t even pause to ask what it is. “I’ll do whatever you need.”
“Good. Because you’re a detective,” I say, tapping my fingernail against the wood.
“I want you to start investigating these missing people. Look into their files, talk to witnesses and see how it correlates to the Veil weakening. You’ve got an outside perspective—maybe you’ll pick up on something our town guards completely missed. Maybe it’s why Amberhollow let you in.”
Callum frowns, his thick eyebrows pulling together into a sharp crease. “Winifred, I don’t know how useful I’m going to be around here. I don’t know this town, I don’t know the locals, and I sure as hell don’t know how magic factors into a crime scene.”
I offer him a cat-like grin, raising my eyebrows up and down. “Well. Good thing you’ve got me, then, isn’t it?”
His eyes narrow at me. “That sounds like a dangerous idea.”
“Oh well. If I’m risking potential prison time for you, McKinley, you do what I say when I say it.”
Callum slowly crosses those massive arms over his chest and stretches the material of his shirt impossibly tight. “You’re pretty bossy, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I reply smoothly. “It’s one of my best qualities. It means I get shit done.”
He holds my gaze for a beat, taking a second to digest the terms. “If I do that…you’ll really work on finding me a way out of here?”
“I’ll do my absolute best,” I promise, raising a hand. “Full disclosure: I’ve never done anything like this before. Something this extensive when it comes to high-level spellwork takes real research. It could take a while.”
Callum nods once, reaching across the table and extending a large, calloused hand toward me. “It’s better than nothing. You’ve got yourself a deal, Winifred Rowley.”
I glare down at his palm, then flick my eyes back up to his. “It’s Freddie.”
Instead of pulling back, Callum leans in closer across the small wooden divide. Suddenly, the space between us gets very small, and his scent washes over me—an undeniably sexy mix of juniper and pine.
“Winifred is a beautiful name,” he says quietly, his deep voice carrying a gravelly warmth that goes straight to my stomach and makes my kneecaps feel like jelly. “And as long as I’m around, that’s what I’m calling you. So you might as well get used to it.”
I do my absolute best to keep my face masked in a cool, nonchalant look, but I know I’m failing miserably when a sudden wave of heat creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks. Damn it.
My eyes traitorously drop to his mouth. He has full, plush lips, framed by that neat dark mustache, with a distinct, subtle little seam right in the center of his plump bottom lip. What would that mustache feel like on my skin? Nuzzled into the crook of my neck? Pressed between my thighs?
Shit. This is bad. Horrible, actually. It’s obviously been way too long since I hooked up with anybody.
My love life has been as dry as the Sahara Desert for months, and my brain is apparently so starved for action that a grumpy detective using my full government name in his insanely attractive accent is enough to short-circuit my entire nervous system.
Callum keeps his hand extended between us, interrupting my scandalous internal tailspin. “Do we have a deal, Winifred?”
I fight down the blush and tentatively slide my hand into his. His hand completely engulfs mine. It’s rough and sends a tiny jolt of electricity zipping right up my arm.
I clear my throat, giving his hand a firm shake. “Let’s rock and roll, Callum McKinley.”