Page 18 of Witch Bound and Down

The werewolves at the corner table looked up with mild interest but didn't seem particularly concerned. Sheriff Lawman's presence at Sage's wasn't exactly unusual.

"Sheriff," Sage said pleasantly, emerging from behind the counter. "What brings you out this way tonight?"

"Official business," Sheriff Lawman replied, his small eyes still scanning the room. "We're looking for a black Trans Am. Late model, heavily modified. Someone reported seeing it in your parking lot."

Hazel's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to remain calm. The glamour was still working—she could feel it humming around them like a protective bubble.

"Lots of folks drive Trans Ams," Sage said with a shrug. "Can't say I pay much attention to what's parked outside."

"This one's special," the federal agent said, stepping forward with his credentials already out. "Agent Fernandez, Supernatural Crimes Division. The vehicle belongs to a person of interest in an ongoing investigation."

"Well, you're welcome to look around," Sage said agreeably. "Though you know the rules about harassing my customers without proper warrants."

Sheriff Lawman's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Just asking questions. For now." His gaze swept the room again, passing over Hazel and Bullseye without pause. The glamour held.

"Mind if we talk to some of your customers?" Agent Fernandez asked. "Just routine inquiries."

"Be my guest," Sage replied. "Though I should mention that most folks come here for the peace and quiet. They don't much appreciate being bothered."

The werewolves snorted in agreement. "Speak for yourself," one of them called out. "We love a good interrogation. Makes dinner more interesting."

Sheriff Lawman ignored the commentary and began making his way around the room, the federal agent at his side. They spoke quietly to the centaur and his date, showed them what appeared to be photographs, and moved on when both shook their heads.

Under the table, Bullseye's hand found Hazel's knee and squeezed gently—a gesture that was probably meant to be reassuring but instead sent electricity shooting straight up her thigh. She tried to look bored and uninterested in the law enforcement drama playing out across the restaurant.

"We're looking for two individuals," Agent Fernandez announced to the room at large, pulling out what appeared to be a magical sketch pad. "A witch named Hazel Thornfield and an unknown male accomplice. They were last seen fleeing in a black Trans Am."

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?"

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