Spells on Shelves

Chapter 12 || A Few More Holes

At eight the next morning, I waited with a backpack full of supplies at my feet as Paxton rolled up in a massive black jeep.

I mentally checked my belongings. Supplies, check. My jade pendant was tucked safely under my sweater, which also concealed my two revolvers. 

As an extra precaution, a small pouch with wolfsbane dangled from my wrist. I was about to sit in close quarters with a shapeshifter witch hunter, after all.

Cameron had shown me pictures of the ritual site so I'd packed five heavy quartz, each the size of a coconut and just as heavy. Paxton jumped out, snatched up the bulging bags up with one hand and dropped them in the seat.

I settled into the passenger seat. If I had shapeshifter strength I wouldn't need two hands to carry it either. Or almost pull a muscle doing so.

With all that magic being thrown around, digital systems were crashing left and right. People either drove old-school mechanical cars or splurged on MEMCs—magically-enhanced mechanical cars.

I was sure this one was a MEMCs. My magic felt sort of iffy. Like someone put a box over it. "What kind of car is this?"

Paxton wheeled out of the parking space, wordlessly reached into the driver's door, and dropped a brochure in my lap.

Armored Mercedes G-Class. Apparently, so brand-new that he still kept a brochure.

I flipped through the pages.

State-of-the-art magic sensors, a ten-pound anti-magic field crystal of the highest grade, and...a ward equipped with a ballistic defense system.

Okay then, Paxton was loaded.

My gaze flicked across the holes in his faded sweats. Then again, being a witch hunter probably paid well. What had Taji said? Something in the low millions.

No matter how many jobs I picked up in the towns I visited, I could never dream of affording something like this.

We took the exit down Pine Street, past the river and the gas station, and then turned onto a road, leaving Brookside behind. Colorful canopies stretched for miles on the landscape below. Definitely postcard material.

Today was one of those rare, warm October days. The azure sky accentuated the vibrant fall colors of the trees, rich hues of orange, red, and yellow, with only a few green specks in between.

Paxton's left elbow was propped on the windowsill, supporting his head, his other hand casually rested on the steering wheel. His sleeves had moved up, revealing more of his tan skin and what looked like a swirly pattern of black. 

It reminded me of scales. Like a tattoo. But shapeshifter didn't have tattoos. 

I focused back on the scenery. None of my business. He was still a witch hunter.

Then again, I'd never pictured myself driving through a beautiful fall forest with a witch hunter. One who had yet to try and intimidate or annoy me.

Suspicious.

Sure, he talked as if the kids' opinions mattered to him, but I wasn't fooled. Unless Marietta's pie had worked its delicious magic and softened him up—which was possible, given that it was the best I'd ever had—he was working a different angle.

Maybe he had switched tactics. Instead of intimidating me, he was now trying to charm me into spilling all my secrets. Be nice and charming. Seduce me to make me talk.

I scooted away as far as the car would allow, peeking at him through the curtain of my hair. Tired eyes, five-o-clock shadow, his shirt and sweatpants riddled with holes—well... maybe not. The only thing he really had going for him were his sharp jawline, straight nose, and full lips—