Page 41 of Enchanted to Meet You

It felt good to say it. Strangely, invigoratingly good.

“Well,” the grandmother said, beaming. “I’m so happy to hear that. It’s been a while since Jessica had a nice fellow. And where did you two—?”

Mercifully, Derrick’s phone rang. When he looked down at the screen and saw who was calling, he said, “Pardon me, ma’am, but I have to take this.”

“Oh, please.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled as she reached for her own phone. “Go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

Derrick did mind her, however. The enemy was everywhere and could look like anyone, including this kindly grandmother—or a former high school football player who now sold cars for his father-in-law. You could never be too careful.

Derrick excused himself, laid down his book, lifted a protesting Pye from his lap, and stepped outside the shop to take his call, making sure to catch Jessica’s eye on his way out so she’d know where he was. She nodded as he lifted his phone to his ear—and even though he was halfway out the door, he didn’t miss the amused glance she exchanged with twentysomething Becca, the bubbly brunette who’d been sneaking surreptitious glances at him ever since he’d set foot in the place.

Did no one in West Harbor take anything seriously?

“Hello,” he said into the phone when he was safely on the sidewalk outside the shop. He could still see Jessica inside through the enormous plate glass display windows, adjusting the hem of a gown the young mother was trying on. “Did you get my message?”

“Of course I got it.” The person on the other end of the phone sounded grim. “Why do you think I’m calling? Are you honestly telling me that Rosalie Hopkins—”

“Exactly what I wrote to you.” He didn’t want to say it out loud. The foot traffic on West Harbor’s main thoroughfare wasn’t as bad as it had been over the weekend, but it was still surprisingly brisk for a Monday. Derrick had to stick close to Enchantments’ doorway to keep out of the way—and to keep his end of the conversation from being overheard.

“We always suspected. But that kind of power—and that kind of blatant disregard for life...” The caller seemed perplexed. “We haven’t seen anything like that since—”

“That’s why I wrote. Between that and the Bringer of Light’s exceptional gifts—if they’re true—I have a feeling we might need to accelerate things a bit.”

The caller’s voice sharpened. “Accelerate them how?”

“Well, to start with, maybe by telling Jessica Gold the truth.”

He didn’t want to say it. He knew the kind of reaction he was going to get.

But he had to say something, because Jessica deserved the truth. If the woman was going to put her life on the line—and that was clearly what she was doing, thanks to Rosalie—she needed to know who she was really working for.

But the caller, as he’d predicted, disagreed. Strongly.

“No! Absolutely not! Do you want to get her killed?”

“She was very nearly killed earlier today,” he said tersely into the phone, while turning to look through the display window. Jessica was now having an animated conversation with the toddler’s mother while making subtle changes to the gown she’d tried on. Before Derrick’s eyes, the woman bloomed, becoming pretty as a rose. But not as pretty as her stylist. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“Then stay there. Continue doing what you’re doing. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Derrick fought for patience. “Please explain to me how I’m supposed to do that. This isn’t the Middle Ages. Did you know that following a woman everywhere she goes can be considered harassment?”

The caller scoffed. “How is it harassment when you’re saving her life?”

“When she doesn’t know that’s what you’re doing because she doesn’t realize the enormity of the threat against her.” Derrick reached up to squeeze the bridge of his nose. His eyes hurt. Was it all the caffeine, the lack of sleep, or the absurd amount of stress he was under? Probably all three. “Look, I was thinking: What if we changed things up and simply eliminated the threat against her?”

The response was immediate—and exactly what he’d expect. “No! You know how I feel about bloodshed.”

“I’m not talking about bloodshed.” Probably. “A simple binding spell would keep the woman from doing any more harm. And it would be what she deserves—she’s a menace.”

“You know what the penalties are for casting a binding spell on a Council member?”

“Lucky for me I’m not a Council member, then, isn’t it?” he quipped.

“Very funny. But you know it’s too risky. You’re right that she’s a menace—but she’s a menace with powerful magic that we might need on our side when the time comes... if we can turn her, that is.”

Derrick raised his eyebrows. “You aren’t suggesting thatItry to—?”

“No. She’d never listen to you. But the girl—she might listen to her.”