Page 43 of Rewitched

Big on eye contact, this guy, Belle thought to herself. She ushered him through the open door. “I don’t love the idea of having a ‘watchman.’ It sounds horrendously outdated, like I should be living in a turret and playing the lute while you charge around with a sword. Can’t we call it something else?”

“Sure.” He nodded agreeably. “How about protector? Keeper? Handler?”

“On second thought, let’s stick with ‘watchman.’ ” Belle grimaced. “What does the job really involve?”

“I thought you’d never ask. Traditionally, it tends to involve bringing down some great evil, an endeavour on behalf of Selcouth. Spending the weekend trying to prevent the inevitable end of mortal existence itself. That sort of thing.”

Rune cleared his throat as a woman walking a terrier turned the corner and shuffled past them apologetically.

“So you’ve got off pretty lightly with this one, then,” Belle said. “Watchman for little old me, meeting and greeting a man who’s going to bring my homework up to scratch. Probably not the most immediate threat to mortal existence…” She was struggling to remember what one normally did with their hands when speaking normally in a normal conversation.

“I wouldn’t speak too soon.”

“True. Maybe my great villain origin story is just around the corner. Alas, I knew it was inevitable.”

This earned a side smirk.

She switched off the lights, leaving the spotlights on the suitably spooky display that she’d purposely neglected to take down. The windows gave out a glow against the chilly evening.

“Look, as much as I appreciate you swinging by unannounced, once again, despite me literally begging you to never come here again…I don’t need a ‘watchman,’ ” Belle told him, with added emphatic air quotes. “In fact, I actively hate the idea.”

“I’m not huge on it, either, trust me. There’s a million and one things I could be doing with my time instead.”

“Like what? Brooding in the shadows of some underground vampire den? Or wherever it is you pass the nights?”

“I do not live in a den.” He sulked. “If anything, it’s more of a lair.”

“Right.”

“You won’t see me much. Most of the watchman duties are done from Hecate House. I’m only here to point you in the right direction,” Rune assured her, his voice a fraction softer and more sincere. “I just wanted to make sure you know that you can reach me. All you have to do is ask.”

“I think your hero complex is showing,” Belle scoffed.

Yes, maybe she was feeling a little defensive, still licking her wounds after the EquiWitch trial, but she’d never relied on anybody for anything—particularly not a man. Now she had inadvertently found herself relying on two of them to help her keep hold of magic that was rightfully hers, anyway. Her pride prickled like heat rash.

But as frustrating as it was, if the coven considered her to need an extra, extra helping hand, the reasonable part of her brain debated that it wouldn’t hurt for it to be someone like Rune. One of their most promising warlocks, rising up the ranks, specialising in forms of protective magic. The idea of him keeping an eye on her was unsettling, awkward. But maybe practical. She’d be stupid not to take all of the help she could get.

“I can tell you’re not convinced, and I’m trying not to take offence,” Rune said, as though reading her mind. “But trust me. They’re your lessons to learn. I’ll just be around if you need anything. Extra protection, guidance, advice…”

Belle gave him an overly dramatic side-eye. This guy. “Only if I ask for it?”

That smirk again. This guy. “I’ve cleared my schedule, just for you.”

“I’m honoured to hear it.”

“Trust me. I want to help.” He looked surprisingly sincere. It was maybe the first truly genuine thing he’d said to her so far, delivered without any attempt at mystery or bravado.

Belle defrosted a fraction. Perhaps sensing her thawing, Rune held out a hand to shake hers, which she accepted. A crackle of magic snapped between their palms as they connected, his grip warm and strong. Belle wasn’t sure, but she felt as though he held on a moment too long.

“Well, thanks for stopping by and scaring the good grace out of my soul.”

“Anytime. I’ll leave you to meet the infamous Mr. Day. And I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. Hey, Gowdens’ orders. Don’t hex the messenger.” Rune held up both of his hands in mock surrender.

With a swift glance over his shoulder and around the corner, he shot Belle a quick wink, snapped his forefinger and thumb together languidly and vanished. Where he’d stood, a few rogue sparks of magic tumbled between the cracks of the pavement.

“Bye, then.” Belle spoke to thin air.

Batting all lingering thoughts of Rune and his annoying dimples away, Belle pulled a small card with Artorius’s address from her pocket. Caspar had provided the necessary information, a second letter from Selcouth arriving on her pillow that morning in a flurry of sparks, much to Jinx’s distaste. Heaving her stuffed backpack farther up onto her shoulder again, she stumbled on the cobbles under its weight. She hadn’t been entirely sure what to bring to meet her new mentor, so had packed everything possible as a sensible compromise, including her own hefty grimoire, which accounted for the weight of a small boulder.