Page 19 of Witch Bound and Down

"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."

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