12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Callum

"Hey Macy, we're here," I announced, walking up to a short, curvy woman, who had her back to us, consulting her tablet. She had long, bright pink hair that was secured on top of her head in a messy bun.

She turned, a sunny smile on her cute face. When she saw Michael, her dark brows rose all the way up to her feathery fringe of bangs. She was wearing a shirt that matched mine, only hers was hot pink with black lettering. "Michael fucking Endicott. Callum, you have so much tea to spill."

"Later," I muttered, shaking my head. "Michael, this is my best friend, Macy. Macy, Michael, though obviously, she knows who you are."

Smiling, he took her hand in his, "It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry if I don't remember you from school. I'm guessing that's how you and Callum met?"

She nodded, "He latched on to me in first grade and I haven't been able to shake him yet."

"Hey, you're still here, lady, don't blame me for your poor life decisions," I joked with her easily.

"So, Michael," Macy gave him a heated once over, that I would have to be blind to miss and I didn't like one little bit, "what brings you to my little witchy walking tour, and with my bestie?"

Since we had arrived over a half-hour before the start time of the tour, none of the people attending Macy's tour were there yet. The start spot was a popular restaurant, and people wandered the streets, as well as there being a dozen or more different walking tours that were assembling or in some stage of their tour.

Lowering my voice, I whispered, "I did a thing."

Macy raised a brow, smirking, "His name is Michael and he's not a thing."

Michael raised his hand, the picture of innocence, "I'm not the thing he did. But for the record, I wouldn't be opposed."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I straightened my glasses when they went sideways from the motion and muttered, "I can see introducing you two is going to be a mistake. "

Macy cackled, unrepentant, and that was part of her charm. "Quick, tell me, before the people converge on us and I have to play the all-knowing goddess of all things witchy."

"You are super extra tonight." I was glad I would be leading up the rear of the tour, basically helping check people in, answer any questions before the tour started, and then mainly look out for any stragglers when we moved on to the next stop. It was amazing how many people ended up in the wrong tour at one stop or the other. But with so many different walking tours going on at the same time, it was bound to happen. It was one of the reasons we wore the shirts, as well as good marketing.

"Michael needed help," whispering, I ducked my head to be closer to her height, so she could hear me better. "The spell kind."

"Callum, you didn't!" Macy hissed, well versed on my wonky spell casting.

"Oh, he did," Michael nodded, and I shot him a glare. He just grinned, not intimidated by my glare at all. Not that anyone ever really was.

Macy gave him a quick once over again, like she hadn't already clocked every single inch of him and probably had stored his measurements in her head. "Well, I don't see any extra appendages. No fur or tails. And he looks like the same hottie he was in school." She licked her lips, "Maybe even better. Nicely matured. So, what's the prob? "

"The prob is I tried to break a tiny little bad luck spell someone placed on him, and I ended up binding us together instead."

Macy blinked rapidly a few times, then cocked her head at Michael.

"It's true," he nodded, "we can't get more than ten feet away from each other or my head explodes." He made an exploding motion with his hands by his head, "Bam! Instant, blinding pain."

Turning to give me a sly look, she said, "I mean, there are worse things you could have ended up doing."

Michael nodded, clearly agreeing with her. "I'm not complaining."

"So, Michael," Macy sidled up to him like they were old friends, "what did you do that made someone put a bad luck spell on you?"

His cheeks colored a little and he winced. "I picked up a guy at a club, took him home, and then asked him to leave. You know, after."

Macy gave me a look, and I shrugged, "Super abridged version, but basically. It's not a strong spell and not from a born witch. Daphne will unravel it when she's home. Until then, we're stuck with each other."

"Still not complaining." Michael winked at me. Winked! The way my stomach flipped flopped from that wink was…disconcerting .

A few people started arriving, and Macy pointed her finger at me. "We'll talk about all of this later. I brought your flowers, by the way. They're in my bag." Mouthing Michael is gay? at me, she raised her brows in a silent question.

Shooing her with a wave of my hands, I turned to Michael, "Any questions before we get started?"

"Several," he was watching the crowd grow and gather around us, Macy checking people in on her tablet efficiently. "First though, flowers? What's that about."

"One of our stops is the Witch Trials Memorial. I like to leave flowers on benches there for the victims. It's just my way of remembering them."

He frowned, "A lot of innocent people died because of mass hysteria and children's lies."

"There's always been witches in Salem, Michael. From the very beginning." I told him quietly, not disagreeing with his statement. "Where there's enough smoke and finger pointing, there's bound to be a little bit of fire. I'm not saying the people that were executed were witches, because they weren't. But…just because the lies were aimed at the wrong people, doesn't mean they were lies."

He stared at me for a long minute, a strange look on his face. "I never thought of it like that but it makes sense in a way."

"Salem is still full of witches, Michael," I chuckled, waving an arm towards all the many storefronts. " You can't turn around without bumping into something witchy."

He opened his mouth to protest, and I cut him off. "Did you honestly think it was all for show, for tourists, to make money? That's just smart business cashing in on what is right in front of everyone's noses. Macy is about to get started."

Macy started her welcoming, well memorized speech, playing up on pointing out that she was a witch (she wasn't), and introducing me. People always got weirdly more excited when I joined her and she introduced me as witch Callum. Male witches tended to be looked on as an oddity. She then explained once more what the tour would consist of, because even though it was spelled out on the website when people signed up and bought tickets, there was always someone who forgot what they read.

The tour would last about two hours, and we would be stopping at the famed Witch's House, Howard Street Cemetery, which was noted to be one of the most haunted cemeteries in the town. We'd breeze by the haunted Ropes Mansion, which was used in the filming of the movie Hocus Pocus , and would then have the most time to spend at the Witch Trial Memorial. We would end up back here where we started. There was some grumbling when people realized the Witch's House was closed to tourists, but Macy told them with a smile what the museum's hours were and where they could buy tickets.

Michael was mostly quiet on the tour, listening to Macy intently, and taking in the sights like he'd never seen them before. It was possible he hadn't, not really. He had said he had never been that interested in our town's history, and had likely never bothered to pay any attention to any of the famous sights. A lot of locals tended to avoid the higher traffic tourist spots if they could.

When we got to the Memorial, people milled around, some taking pictures, while others asked questions of Macy.

I placed a flower on one of the benches that had been built inside the perimeters, reading the name inscribed, along with the execution date. Even though I had them all memorized.

"She's very knowledgeable," Michael commented, his voice low and quiet.

Moving to the next bench, I placed another flower, and Michael followed, reading each bench as we moved down the line. "She was a history major in college. Did her thesis on the witch trial. She's probably forgotten more about Salem than I ever knew."

Michael looked around the memorial, at the handcrafted granite walls that surrounded three sides, at some of the flowers and trinkets that had been placed on the benches by other visitors. "I can't believe I've never been here before. It's surprisingly peaceful. I feel like I saw a side of Salem I've never bothered seeing before. It's really very interesting."

"It is peaceful here," I agreed with him, placing my last flower. "No ghosts or ghouls hiding out. It's one of my favorite places to come to."

He took my hand in his now that I had deposited all my flowers, and brushed a stray lock of my hair off my forehead. "Do you think we could maybe take one of the other tours before…before your family returns? I'd like to see some of the other famous sights."

"We could do that," I agreed, "if you want."

The tour was heading out, and I gently prodded a couple who were still meandering around, taking pictures, so we could finish up for the night.

"This concludes the 1692 Witchy Walking Tour." Macy's voice was loud and clear at the front of our group, as we came to a stop in front of Turner's Seafood at Lyceum Hall. These Turners were no relation to me, but the building was rumored to be haunted. Regardless, it had been built on what had at one time been Bridget Bishop's apple orchard, one of the innocent people executed in the famous witch trials. I figured if anyone was going to haunt the place it was probably Bridget, and not the rumored tavern owner.

"Thanks for being with us tonight," Macy continued to engage the crowd, "and please leave us a review if you enjoyed yourself. If anyone would like to book a tarot card reading with Callum, he has his calendar with him, and any tips are appreciated but not expected. I'll be here for fifteen minutes to answer any questions you may have on anything we saw tonight."

A handful of people came over to me, interested in booking readings during their stay in town. Ready with my calendar open on my phone, I booked them in and took down their information.

"Is the food good at Turner's?" One woman asked, as the few stragglers from the restaurant filed out and they locked the doors behind them. Turner's closed at nine, as did more than a handful of restaurants in Salem.

"It is," I nodded, then lowering my voice, I whispered, "it's haunted. If you eat there you might get lucky and catch sight of the ghost." This tour participant had asked endless questions about ghosts and the haunted buildings. I figured she'd love the possibility of being able to see a ghost in person.

The one time my family had eaten there, nothing supernatural had been going on. It had been a very nice, ghost-free evening.

The crowd finally started to disperse, but Macy was still answering questions for a few lingering folks. I collected some tips from a few people heading off to finish their evenings with a smile and a polite thank you.

Michael had been scrolling his phone the last ten minutes, frowning. Finally, when it was just us, Macy, and the couple who had question after question, he whispered, "I'm starving. What's the best pizza place in town? That's open after nine? I forgot how early everything closes here."

"Georgia's," I told him, winking when I caught Macy's eye and as she patiently answered another question from the couple. "They're open until ten."

Nodding, his scrolling stopped as he must have found the listing. "What do you like on your pie? No mushrooms though; I'm allergic. Can't even do them on your side, sorry."

"I like sausage." I said absently, then felt my cheeks heat when he gave me a smirk and realized what I had said. Shaking my head at him, I rolled my eyes. "You know what I mean."

His smirk turned into a full-blown smile, "I'm aware you like sausage."

"Just order the pizza," I instructed, but I couldn't help but smile with him.

"That's all you want is sausage?" he questioned, using his thumb to enlarge the toppings menu on his screen. "No olives, onions, pineapple? Please don't say pineapple."

"Anchovies," I told him, my voice serious.

He blinked hard, looking up from his phone with a startled look. "Uh, okay."

"I like the salty fishiness of them. Especially if you get the ones with the heads still on, and the eyeballs are dead staring at you as you eat them." I rubbed my belly, "Delish!"

He blew out a small breath, and I bit the inside of my bottom lip to keep from laughing. "One sausage and anchovy pizza coming up. I'm gonna get pepperoni on half and put yours on the other side, if that's okay?"

Not able to contain my amusement any longer, I broke into peals of laughter. "You'd better not even order anchovies on my pizza. Just get a sausage and pepperoni, on both sides. I'm a basic witch when it comes to my pizza toppings. But, damn, your face! And points for being on board with ordering that for me."

Michael shook his head at me, laughing as he put the phone up to his ear. "Dick! I was totally going to get that for you, too. I hope you weren't expecting me to kiss you after you ate it though."

The thought of Michael kissing me caused liquid heat to race through my body. What would it feel like to have his lips on mine? His tongue teasing, wanting to be let in? What would he taste like?

Michael's blue eyes heated when it dawned on him what he had teasingly said. His hot gaze never left mine as he ordered our pizza.

My mind was racing with so many thoughts, while I tried to come up with some flippant, joking response but came up empty .

I wanted Michael to kiss me. Couldn't hardly believe that I might actually find out what kissing him would be like. Would it live up to all my many, many teenage fantasies? Would it be even better?

"Michael?" A woman's curious, questioning voice called, "What are you doing here?"

He jerked at the sound of his name, eyes wide and panicked, his shoulders stiffening. He had his back to the woman, but I was facing him and could see her.

She was approaching us at a rather fast clip, her brow furrowed in confusion. She was of medium height, a bit fluffy with a few extra pounds that didn't detract from her figure at all. Her long blonde hair bounced around her shoulders, and as she got closer, I noticed her cornflower blue eyes. Identical to Michael's.

Widening my own eyes at him, I tried to question him without bringing too much attention to myself.

Between clenched teeth, he whispered, "I'm so sorry about this. Please, no matter what I say, just play along with it."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I couldn't do anything besides give him a small tilt of my head to indicate my agreement. Though I wondered what he was dragging me into.

Smiling widely, he turned to face the woman. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

Mom ?

Standing up straight, I pushed my glasses up, frantically running a hand over my hair. Trying unsuccessfully to flatten the flyaway strands the evening breeze had kicked up. Apparently, I was about to meet Michael's mom.