Page 39 of Uncharmed

‘We can’t ask you to do that. This is your house. There must be . . .’ Annie struggled to think of a counter-offer.

‘It’s not a problem. Haven’t exactly got the room in this place for conjuring new furniture. Like you said, this is about Maeve – I don’t want to make either of you feel weird about some guy being here.’

Hal smiled and continued: ‘Consider it the Bancroft Compromise. My dad always used to say that for when my mum got her way and it involved absolutely no compromise in the slightest.’ His half-smile quickly turned into a frown, as though he wasn’t sure why he’d just shared that. ‘I am however saying this on the assumption that it won’t be for too much longer. If you’re still here for New Year then I might have to set a banshee on you.’

‘I don’t think it will be for that long, but . . . Look, if Maeve is comfortable with it – and I mean genuinely comfortable; trust me, I’ll know if she’s lying – then you should at least sleep on the sofa.’

He leaned back again, stretching an arm over the top of the swing. ‘This bed isn’t so bad.’

‘Unless you happen to be a secret contortionist, then that’s not true. I’ve heard plenty of wicchefolk vouch for you before. And I’m confident that no warlock who’s ever encountered Morena Gowden would dare to upset her charges. Take the couch,’ Annie insisted.

Hal stared at her through thoughtful eyes, fixed as though trying to read her better, then slapped the thighs of his trousers to close the matter. ‘So, the girl,’ he said gruffly. ‘She’s probably only encountered the Sage Witches so far, right? Why you for the job, instead of them?’

‘Good question. It was Morena’s call. I think she just knew that I wouldn’t say no.’

‘Ahh,’ he smirked. ‘So we can both blame Morena for screwing us over. Now it all makes sense.’

‘Excuse me, I haven’t been screwed over. I’m having a very good time with Maeve,’ Annie said, affronted by his bluntness. She wasn’t used to being around men like this. The ones she knew from the Sorciety were always so proper, with well-measured reactions to everything. Although perhaps ‘well-measured’ was her own optimistic code for . . . dishonest, complicated, even manipulative.

‘Come on,’ Hal chuckled. ‘Morena is definitely getting a kick out of putting a princess like you out here, just as much as she’s relishing the fact that I’ve come home to a candyfloss utopia. She knew exactly what she was doing. You’re telling me that you’re genuinely delighted to be here, putting your life on hold for the kid? You don’t exactly strike me as a gnarled old counsellor who thrives in the great outdoors, mentoring the chosen one.’

‘And what do I strike you as, exactly?’ She swung one leg over the other and tapped a foot up and down impatiently.

Hal furrowed his brow, considering her carefully. ‘I haven’t quite worked it out yet. To be honest with you, the Little Miss Perfect thing . . . it’s a little disconcerting.’

Annie faltered. That wasn’t the adjective that she’d been expecting. She had felt assured by the knowledge that the spell was working fastidiously in the background, but the safety net of mouldable, placated satisfaction that it normally provided didn’t seem to be there. Instead, Hal seemed as unsure of her as she was of him.

‘Well, you’ve got me wrong,’ she said, bristling. ‘And you’ve got Maeve wrong, too, so you need to work on your character reading.’

‘I haven’t said a word about the kid. I like her. She seems pretty fearless. Plus she called me a pirate and I’ll always take that as a compliment.’ For the first time, Hal failed at keeping his smile controlled in a tight line and it flooded out of his face into a cheeky, bright grin. Annie blinked hard. She forced herself to remain focused on the matter at hand.

‘You called her “the chosen one”,’ she said with an added sarcastic impression of his deep voice. ‘I didn’t like your tone,’ she snipped.

‘No tone included,’ he said matter-of-factly, draining the last dregs of his mug then returning it to the porch floor. He kicked off gently on the swing, sending it into a slow pendulum. ‘I meant it sincerely. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed?’

‘I’ve been trying to get her to like me since we first met. There’s very little I haven’t noticed about Maeve.’

‘And yet you think all of this is normal, do you?’ He gestured with a nod out towards the meadow, where a bundle of wolf cubs had just come scampering out of the woods and towards the cottage, followed by their mother, who was doing her best to herd them and give each one a grooming lick on the head. They glanced over to the cottage with twitching snouts, as though they were drawn to the scent of it, intrigued by what might lay inside.

Hal leaned towards Annie, forearms on his thighs to close the space between them, a glint in his eye and an intrigue in his smile that hadn’t been there before. ‘Because I gotta tell you, Blondie. That isn’t normal.’

Annie laughed. ‘You’re being a little dramatic. We’re witches, we’re in the woods, we’re using concentrated, active magic – rather lovely magic, too, may I add. There’s always going to be animals drawn to that.’ She faltered. ‘Isn’t there?’

‘Sure, there’s creatures and critters around here all the time – it’s part of why I set up camp at Arden Place myself. But this many? All at once?’ Hal rose from the swing and, after stretching out his chest, turned and leaned over the railing that ran around the porch to peer past the side of the house. He beckoned her over.

Annie stood up to join him, her hands holding onto the rail next to his. She clocked Hal’s scent for the first time, buried beneath the nature and outdoors that clung to his muddy clothes. An enveloping sort of scent, a crackling fireplace in winter, woody and amber, clove and chestnuts. She was mortified to realize that she’d unintentionally shifted closer to him as she tried to decipher it. She took an emphatic step away to counteract that.

Sure enough, a pair of fawns were gazing into the open window of Maeve’s bedroom. Her arm, strung with her stacks of beaded bracelets, was reaching over the sill to offer them slices of apple and a stroke on the snout. They nuzzled happily into her touch, although they were fighting for prime position against Karma, who had joined the window meeting to claim her own strokes as rightful priority. She kept whipping the fawns in the face with her tail to make sure they knew it.

‘Animals will always be drawn to magic, sure enough. But make no mistake: they’re not interested in your witchcraft or mine,’ Hal said, tapping his hands on the railing as though he were satisfied to have been proven right. ‘It’s her they’re drawn to. You need to keep an eye on that kid.’

Chapter Fifteen

SILVER SECRETS

Annie returned inside to deliver a coffee to Maeve, but more importantly to assess how the girl felt about the prospect of this unscheduled arrival sleeping on the couch. Their couch. His couch? She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it herself, caught off guard by his odd combination of easy kindness and general scowling. But uprooting Maeve again, just when it was starting to feel like an understanding had settled between them, was not the right solution either. Annie was comforted by how many times she had heard other Selcouth members sing Hal’s praises. She had once even heard Morena reluctantly admit that he was ‘irritatingly considerate’ and ‘offensively decent’, apart from the way that he insisted on traipsing mud through the entirety of Hecate House on every visit.

Maeve told Annie that she couldn’t give two hoots (in slightly less polite terms) where Hal slept, providing that he’d give her an insight into some of his adventures. Even a slightly sullen teenager could not resist a tale of exploring various realms, sleeping under the stars among some of its most legendary beasts.