She frowned. Her gaze dropped to the hand that gripped her wrist. A delicate English ivy vine tattoo on her inner forearm came to life, real vines magically manifesting outside of her skin to crawl down to her hand as a physical vine, twining around his wrist. He didn’t freak out, although he probably should have. Then again, he’d had boyhood fantasies about the femme fatale villain Poison Ivy in the Batman comics and this was damned close. But what did really unsettle him was that he wasn’t used to hedge magic. Other than being around his father, he avoided magic most days. But hers felt nice… when it wasn’t hexing him.
“Who are you?” she asked. The vine continued to curve around his skin as though it was exploring him.
“My name’s Malcolm Wellesley. This is my familiar, Hades.” He flashed her a grin that on mortal women had them purring and sidling up to him. But this witch didn’t purr or sidle. She simply gazed back at him, her honey eyes seeing clear through him.
Hades stood up and put his paws on the counter to better smell the nearest pie. The pumpkin one, of course. Hadn’t the dog had enough pumpkin for one night?
“And you are?” he asked. He really wanted to know her name. He leaned in a little. Her pupils widened and her cheeks pinkened with an adorable blush. The English ivy vines still coiled around his wrist, working their way up his forearm.
“Callista Wynter…” she said at last. “But everyone calls me Calli.”
“Calli.” When he said her name, the vines around his wrist tightened slightly, but not in a bad way. It felt more like it was gently hugging him.
“Huh. It’s never done that before,” she murmured.
“They don’t usually hug strangers like that?”
Calli shook her head. “They showed up when I was twelve. They move sometimes, but hardly ever emerge from my skin like that to become actual vines…”
A soft huff from Hades drew their attention. He was licking his chops as he eyed the cookies in front of him. The vines around Malcolm’s wrist retreated into Calli’s arm and vanished.
“Sorry. He’s hungry,” said Malcolm. “We haven’t eaten in hours.”
“Can he have a cookie?” Calli asked.
“Yeah, sure. No chocolate in them, right?”
She shook her head as she removed a cookie from the baking tray and gave it to the dog, who scarfed it down instantly.
“By the way … where exactly are we?”
“This is Moonstone Falls. You said you came from Boston?” Calli asked. He nodded and she said, “We’re just a little north of Boston, about thirty miles or so.”
“Moonstone Falls…” he muttered to himself. “Wait, I know that name. But how the hell do I know it?” He swore he’d heard of this place, but couldn’t for the life of him remember how.
“I live on the far edge of town,” Calli said. “You won’t be able to rent a room at the Moonstone Inn until dawn unless you don’t mind talking to a—” She stopped.
“Talking to a what?”
“I really shouldn’t talk about it. Moonstone Falls isn’t like other towns.” Calli busied herself scooping cookies from the baking sheet onto a cooling rack.
Malcolm got up and came around the counter where she stood, crowding her space a little. She wasn’t short, perhaps five foot six, but he still towered over her at six foot two. As he cornered her, her pupils widened, her cheeks darkened with a blush and her lips parted as she drew in a sharp breath.
Damn…there was something hot about catching her a little off guard like that.
“So, this place is magical? It’s not like I’d tell anyone.”
She lifted her hazel eyes. “Yes, it’s a magical town, but it’s more than that. We live in a concentrated pocket of magical energy. It attracts all sorts of supernatural creatures, so we have protective wards around the town to keep out curious humans. Mostly for their own protection. We let some humans in, though. Those we get to know on the outside that mean no harm to us, or those who already know about the town and don’t have any negative energy toward us.”
“If this place is warded, should it have prevented someone from opening a witch portal from inside the protection of the wards?” he asked.
“It should have…” She chewed her bottom lip, and for a moment Malcolm forgot what they were talking about.
When he pulled himself out of a daydream about kissing her again, he glanced out the kitchen window at the back gardens, where his bike and sidecar were still turned on their side. “The Moonstone Inn doesn’t open until morning?”
“Yes. Only vampires can call for late-night bookings after ten. They have a vampire on staff to answer those calls. The rest of us are supposed to wait to call until the morning.”
“Ahh…” he cleared his throat. “Not to be a pest or risk another hex, but could Hades and I stay here? Just for tonight? We’ll be gone tomorrow.”
