“Yes, the forest has much stronger energy after dusk.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Not if you have the right spiritual guide. And there are also less prying eyes.”

Did she say spiritual guide? What did she mean? I let the comment slide, and ask, “Not a fan of the crowds, uh?”

“Large congregations can be powerful, but when I’m in the woods, Artemis is the only companion I need.”

“Err, your dog?” I ask hopefully.

“No, silly.” Meadow laughs me off. “The Greek goddess of the moon and female independence.”

Err… how do I respond to that? Thankfully, I’m saved the task by the server bringing our food.

He puts down her plate first, then mine, saying, “Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Ma’am, I hope your steak isn’t too bloody.”

With the sweetest smile, Meadow replies, “Oh, the bloodier the better. We wouldn’t want to waste such a powerful conduit.”

Alarm bells have been ringing in my brain for a while now, but I ignore yet another reference to the supernatural and try to keep the conversation going.

“How’s your steak?”

“Great, yours?”

“Yeah, wonderful.”

A small silence follows, and I fill it with the only topic I can think of, reciprocating her earlier question. “What did you put as your ideal day off?”

“Oh, every chance I get, I drive up to Sleepy Hollow.”

The alarm bells ring again.

“Mmm, Sleepy Hollow, like the movie? Is that a real place?”

“Yes, it’s a small town up north. Can you believe we live in such a big city, but are blessed by having such a mystical place not thirty miles away? Naturally, all the stories about a headless horseman are crap.”

“Right,” I agree with her, relief washing over me.

“But the village has been touched by magic.”

And the anxiety is back. I can’t ignore the facts anymore. Meadow picked a long-dead witch as her alias, she likes to hike in the woods alone at night, talks of blood as a powerful conduit, and spends her free time in a folkloric village allegedly touched by magic.

I’m not sure how to phrase my next question and opt for the most direct route. “Do you… err… believe in magic?”

Meadow looks me straight in the eyes with that open smile and cute dimples. “Of course I believe in magic. I’m a witch.”

My stomach sinks, and no matter how delicious the steak tastes, I suddenly lose all my appetite. Apparently, having a witch as an office neighbor wasn’t enough; now, I’ve also gotten myself on a date with one. A more superstitious man could think he’d been cursed.

After Meadow’s casual admission, I have no idea how to move the conversation forward. So, when my phone vibrates in my pocket, I take it out. Normally I wouldn’t do this on a date, but… given the circumstances…