Page 38 of Uncharmed

He closed his eyes again and shifted his body with a grimace. ‘I wasn’t pretending. But the smell of my first decent cup of coffee in three months would be enough to wake me from the grave.’

‘In that case, special delivery,’ Annie said, gesturing to the cup she’d left beside him. It felt a little like she’d taken a chance with feeding a wild animal and then returned to a safe distance. He peered through one eye again and then glanced back at her from under his brow.

‘Room service, hey?’

‘It’s probably the least I can do.’ She leaned against the porch post and moved her weight onto her other leg, trying to appear nonchalant. Hal leaned down to pick up the mug and swung his legs over to a seated position with a groan. Holding the coffee in one hand, he used his other to push down his shoulders and adjust his neck muscles.

‘Actually, you’re right,’ he groaned. ‘You’re on coffee duty for the foreseeable.’

‘That seems fair, seeing as we’ve accidentally invaded your home. Sorry about that, by the way.’

He looked at her for a moment over the top of his mug while he blew on the steam, then gestured with a nod towards the wicker armchair at the end of the porch. It had previously been splintered and unbraided, covered in cobwebs and animal droppings, but Annie had made light work of the transformation. Now it was a gleaming brown, with a red gingham cushion to match the curtains. He brought it a foot closer towards him with quick magic and she accepted the wordless invitation to join him.

‘Early riser, then, huh?’ Hal asked, taking a first tentative sip and then leaning back with his eyes closed and a low hum of pleasure. Annie, mortified to find that she was staring, turned fixedly out onto the meadow. Thankfully her attention was stolen by a whole family of hares lolloping their way through the rustling grass, the dawn dew catching the tops of their ears. A hedgehog was snuffling its way along the shallow steps of the porch and a pair of bats swooped low enough to skim the tops of the wildflowers. A hush of lemon-meringue clouds in the pink and pale-blue sky was just starting to brighten behind the band of trees.

‘I’m not a big sleeper,’ Annie said.

‘Yet somehow you look as well rested as a woman who just got back from an all-expenses-paid trip to paradise. Lucky girl,’ he said, eyes still closed with his head resting back on the top of the swinging bench. She blamed her own paranoia for the possible tone of scepticism in his voice.

‘I take my skincare very seriously,’ she said casually. ‘Now, where do we start in our negotiations?’

‘I don’t know about any negotiations. Let’s just start with what you’re actually doing here, shall we?’ Every time Hal looked at her, his gaze lingered a second longer than would have been considered polite, as though he had to force himself to look away. The spell was working and she felt the relief of it. It did feel strange, somehow more potent than usual, but Annie had been holed up with Maeve and had felt none of the usual response to her perfection for days on end. Sometimes she forgot how powerful it could be.

‘It’s simple. I’m here until Maeve doesn’t need me any more. She’s only fifteen. This is all very new to her and she’s showing certain . . . tendencies that aren’t safe to be left to flower around non-wicchefolk.’

‘Tendencies.’ Hal nodded with a smirk. ‘I’m assuming that’s your gracious way of saying the kid loves to blow stuff up. So glad my house could be of service for that particular habit.’

‘I haven’t seen her explode a single thing,’ Annie said defensively, circling the rim of her mug with a thoughtful finger. ‘Oh, actually . . .’ She recalled the pumpkin. ‘Generally, it tends to be more . . . flame-related.’

‘Brilliant.’

‘But we’re making progress already. We’re on day . . .’ Annie bit down on her lip as she calculated on one hand, ‘. . . seven of no spontaneous fires around the place, so you really have to admire the development there, at least.’

‘Seven whole days? Now I’ll rest easy.’

‘Oh, wait . . . I forgot about the kitchen.’

‘That explains my singed curtains. Can I ask where her parents are?’

‘She doesn’t know her father; her mother left a long time ago. Selcouth picked up on the arrival of her magic, but have no tracings of heritage to work with, not a single wicche relative to help uncover its nature. They decided to step in when she accidentally caused flamey chaos at her foster home.’

‘And that’s where you come into all of this?’

‘For one reason or another, Morena thought we’d be a good fit. I think it’s just about having someone here with her, to give her a safe space so that she can spend some time away from normal life and experiment. Throw her magic around a little, see what makes it soar.’

Hal gave her an upside-down smile. ‘Very poetic.’

‘Thank you. But, as you can see, we are now in a pickle.’

‘And I’m sensing that I don’t get a whole lot of choice in this pickle. What if I’m not a pickle guy?’

‘Well, then you are wrong, because pickles make everything better. Besides, it’s coven orders. Can’t argue with that.’ Annie shrugged innocently, paired with her best and most angelic smile.

‘Is that so?’ He paused. ‘Alright, a man knows when he’s defeated.’

‘Ha,’ Annie said triumphantly, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded.

‘No need to look so pleased about it. Obviously I’m not going to turf you out. If you both need a place to stay, then so be it. I can set myself up out here until Selcouth says it’s time for you to go. Got a tent in my rucksack.’