Page 9 of Witch Bound and Down

A minotaur who smelled like leather and motor oil and something wild that made her magic want to purr.

"How much longer can you keep this up?" Bullseye asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones.

"Long enough," she managed, though sweat was beading at her hairline. Below them, Sheriff Grizzley's patrol car looked like a toy, joined by what appeared to be half the Arizona State Supernatural Highway Patrol. "Your sheriff friend is persistent."

"He's not my friend. And persistence is what makes him dangerous."

Hopper shifted on her shoulder. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we've got company. Three o'clock high."

A sleek helicopter rose to meet them, rotors beating the air. Through the cockpit window, Hazel could see a vampire pilot, his pale skin practically glowing in the moonlight.

"Seriously?" she muttered. "Of course they'd send a vampire up at night. Perfect vision in the dark."

"Someone who really wants to catch us," Bullseye said. His CB radio crackled.

"Attention, unidentified black Trans Am. This is Lieutenant Fangsworth of the Arizona Supernatural Aviation Unit. You are flying in restricted airspace without proper enchantment permits. Land immediately or we will be forced to take action."

"Lieutenant Fangsworth?" Hopper snorted. "Sounds like he got that name from a vampire baby book."

Bullseye grabbed the radio. "This is, uh..." He glanced at Hazel. "What's a good handle for someone who's definitely not a smuggler?"

"Concerned Motorist?" Hazel suggested.

"Concerned Motorist here," Bullseye said into the radio. "We're experiencing some unexpected automotive levitation. Trying to find a safe place to land."

"Automotive levitation?" Lieutenant Fangsworth's voice dripped skepticism. "Sir, do you think I was turned yesterday? Land that vehicle immediately."

"Working on it," Bullseye replied, then clicked off. "How attached are you to the flying thing?"

An enchanted net shot past their windshield, glowing with binding spells.

"Time to go down," Hazel said, her magic flickering as exhaustion set in. The Trans Am began to descend, wobbling slightly as her concentration wavered.

"Hold on," Bullseye warned.

They hit the desert highway with a bone-jarring thud that Hazel felt in her teeth. The Trans Am bounced twice before settling onto the asphalt. Behind them, headlights pierced the darkness as their pursuit closed in.

"Nice flying," Bullseye said, genuine appreciation warming his voice. "Most people can barely levitate a coffee cup."

"Most people you know?" Heat curled in her stomach at the way he said it, like she was something special.

"Enough to recognize quality work." His dark eyes met hers, and that electric sensation sparked between them again, her magic reaching toward his supernatural energy like a flower turning toward the sun.

The CB radio crackled. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman calling Bullseye. You copy, good buddy?"

Bullseye grabbed the radio. "Snowman, this is Bullseye. Go ahead."

"Just passed the Cactus Flats weigh station, and let me tell you, it's crawling with Smokies. Word's gotten out about your little airshow. Every badge in three counties is looking for a black Trans Am."

"Roger that. Any word on our timeline?"

"Still on track for the pickup, but the heat's getting thick out here. You might want to find yourself a place to lay low."

Hazel listened to the coded exchange, pieces clicking into place. The urgency, the timeline, the way Bullseye's jaw tightened when he talked about their cargo.

"You're smugglers," she said after he signed off. "Actual smugglers."

"I prefer 'transportation specialists,'" Bullseye replied, checking his mirrors.

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