by Amy Boyles
“I don’t know.” I felt my knees weaken.
He heaved me up. “Don’t do that. Don’t give up. That’s not the Pepper Dunn I know. You keep trying to reach Betty. There may be another reason why you can’t talk to her and it just needs to be unlocked.”
“But how do I do that?” I said.
His smile warmed me to my toes. “You have an entire shopful of creatures. Sometimes animals can reach other animals even if they can’t reach people. Try that. See if the other creatures at Familiar Place can talk to her. Maybe they’ll discover something you can’t.”
I leaned my head on Axel’s chest. “Okay. I’ll do it. But what about Shelly’s things?”
“What do you mean?”
I leaned back. “She showed Betty how to make the potion. Where would she have done that?”
“Her house.” Axel rocked back on his heels. “Wherever she was staying in town. Of course. I’ll see what I can find out about her ingredients. See if I can recreate it.”
“Axel, she had to have written down or saved the potion somewhere. You know how it is. I mean, I realized that when I was tinkering with my own potion—you have to record every detail, every change you make. Otherwise you’ll never remember what you were doing.”
“She doesn’t work at the school anymore so she wouldn’t have an office there.”
“But she might have one at her house. It’s at least worth trying to find out.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You’re a genius. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I’ll see if Bo can help with that. And in the meantime you should see if you can communicate with Betty.”
I frowned. “I know what I need to do, but there’s more than that.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going to check the Keating. I’ve got the book. I want to make sure the poppet spell is in there.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. The clean scent of his hair wafted up my nostrils. “Don’t work the spell.”
I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it. I only want to look and understand it. Plus, you and I both smelled the sulfur scent. I want to take a look at the spell and see what I can learn from it.”
“Like?”
“Like how far away you have to be to have a poppet. What you need to have from the person to create one. Things that could help us.”
Axel smirked. “I know one thing that will definitely help us.”
“What’s that?”
“Tracking down Gale East and finding out what she knows about poppets.”
I smiled. “I think you’re right. But where am I going to find her?”
“Oh, Pepper,” he teased, “don’t you know that when witches don’t get to show off their New Year’s potions for the contest, they’re very unhappy.”
A bubble of hope ballooned in my chest. “They are?”
“Yes. Witches make sure they can one-up each other. They’ll want to prove how smart and talented and overall superior they are.”
I laughed. “So where will I find them?”
His luscious lips spread into a smile that reminded me of sunshine. “Easy. At the witch coffeehouse getting nice and warm, drinking coffee and showing off their potions.”
TEN
Before I could throw myself into the line of potion makers at the coffeehouse, I first had not only to grab my own potion but to also read up on poppets.
All I knew was that crap better not take too long because I had Betty to save, for goodness’ sake. Whoever killed Shelly had the potion that could save Betty.
Sorry, not could, would. It would absolutely save Betty and I needed that to happen. Like yesterday.
I raced back to the house on my cast-iron skillet. Betty was tucked snugly under my arm. Note to self—get her back in water ASAP. Toads and frogs needed water, right? They had to keep their skin moist or else they’d dry out and die.
Ever seen a dried-up, dead frog? I have and it’s not cute.
Anyway, I reached the house and headed inside only to find my cousins in a full-blown argument.
“How dare you invite him here and put me to sleep!” Cordelia slammed her fist on the table.
Amelia shrugged as if drugging her cousin was no big deal. “It was only herbal tea. Besides, you were asleep. You didn’t care who was here.”
Cordelia’s face crimsoned to such a dark shade I thought her head might pop off and rocket into space. “That’s not the point! How many times do I have to say it? They don’t care about us. I don’t know why our dads are here now, but they left us back then. They want something, Amelia. Can’t you see that?”
Amelia’s face crumpled. I wanted to reach out and wrap her in my arms. Thing is, Cordelia was wrong. Their dads hadn’t been in their lives because Mint and Licky had forbidden it.
But I wasn’t supposed to know that.
So what could I do? What could I say that might smooth things over? There were only a few options. One, I might tell them that Mint and Licky had left their fathers, but that would create an entirely new bowl of problems like, why did I know that? As well as a litany of other accusations I wasn’t particularly interested in sifting through.
Two, I could simply say that Cordelia needed to calm down. Explain that I was sure their dads wanted to be a part of their lives for a good reason. Cordelia would ask how I knew that, and I would explain it was a witch sense sort of like Spiderman’s spidey sense. Cordelia would respond by punching me in the face.
So two was definitely out. Three, I could just tell my cousins what their fathers were—genies—and let them accuse me of keeping secrets. Once again I was back to keeping knowledge from my two best friends on earth.
It really ticked me off that my aunts had placed me in such a stupid position. Whichever way it turned out, when my cousins realized I knew stuff about them that even they didn’t know, let alone suspect, there would be fiery heck to pay.
The question was—did I want to pay sooner or later?
Was it best to rip off the Band-Aid or slowly peel it back?
I was always one for ripping—best to get the pain over quickly.
As my cousins bickered with one another, I readied myself. Had to get the words just right. Had to mix and max so that it worked the way it needed to and if something was going to happen, it would happen the exact way it should.
Wishes were a funny thing. I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but it seemed a pretty good guess.
Though Mint and Licky hadn’t given me any specifics on wish making, I knew that if one of them had started a sentence with “I wish,” then one of their husbands granted it. Unfortunately it hadn’t been granted the way the sentence had been spoken. But that was a risk I was willing to take.
Amelia and Cordelia had been around their fathers a few times, and they were worked up. Like, seriously worked up. They were wound to the point that I knew I’d be able to have an impact.
I inhaled a deep breath and said very loudly, “I wish I had black hair.”
My cousins stopped arguing and slowly turned their heads to me. Betty the Toad stared at me as well. She knew the secret—that Cordelia and Amelia’s fathers were half genie. She knew it, but Mint and Licky didn’t know she knew.
Say that three times fast.
“What did you say?” Amelia cocked her head at me.
“I said”—I cleared my throat and spoke as clear as I could—“I wish I had black hair.”
“Why would you wish for that?” She frowned. “Your hair is so pretty.”
“Yeah, at least be blonde like the two of us.” Cordelia raked her fingers through her hair. “Everyone knows blondes have more fun.”
“I was only wishing for it.” I deflated. It didn’t work. I never should even have tried.
“But why would you wish for it when you can just do it?” Amelia’s face squinched in confusion. “You’re a witch. A head witch at that.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I stroked Betty’s head and glared back at her. Good
thing the toad couldn’t speak. She’d probably be telling them why I blurted out such a stupid sentence. “I just thought maybe I could wish for something, and you know, it would stop the two of you from arguing about your dads. Your dads are witches, right? What sort of witches are they?”
Cordelia scoffed. “Heck if I know or care. They’re stupid witches. Selfish witches. Annoying witches that I don’t want to have anything to do with.”
“Stop it.” Amelia’s expression darkened. “Stop it right there. Our dads are good people. They are kind, and so what? They made a mistake. I know you like to think you’re Miss Perfect, Cordelia. But you’re not.”
Then it happened. The simple fact that the two of them were talking about their dads caused something to change in the air. Magic whirled around Amelia’s hands. It looked like shooting stars streaking around her fingers. Or like a whirling tornado of gossamer.
It was freaking cool.
Amelia noticed and raised her palms. “What’s going on?”
“I wish I had black hair.”
Amelia’s eyes flared. Panic splashed across her face. Her lips trembled. “I don’t know why, but I feel an urge to help you, Pepper. It’s so stupid. But I feel the urge to grant your wish.”
She raised one of her hands. Power danced over her flesh. She pointed the finger at me. My scalp tingled, and I knew it was happening. I knew Amelia was granting my wish.
“Am I supposed to be impressed by this?” Cordelia flipped a long strand of hair over one shoulder. “It’s simple magic.”
The tingle washed down my scalp to my back. The magic surrounding Amelia faded, and she stared at her hands and then at me.
“That was so weird.” She clutched her chest. “I didn’t work magic. It didn’t feel like it. I felt, I don’t know—compelled to grant your wish.”
Cordelia glanced at me and laughed. “Only you didn’t do it right.”
“Why not?” I said.
“Look in the mirror,” Cordelia said.
Amelia’s fingers flew to her mouth. “Oh no. Pepper. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“It can’t be that bad.” My stomach roiled as if a gallon of worms were rooting in it. Of course it could be that bad. I’d remembered what Mint and Licky had told me about their husband’s wishing ability. Around them, wish granting had gone sour and become chaotic, for lack of a better description.
I glanced in a mirror. My jaw dropped. My hair was white. Pure white. Not black. Not chic. Not platinum. But old-lady white. It was horrible.
“I can change it back.” Amelia’s voice rose three octaves. She took my hands. “I know I can.”
I tamped down the panic fighting to clamber up my throat. “It’ll be okay. I know you can fix it. No problem.” I smiled widely. “It’s as simple as me saying, I wish I had red hair. My hair. I wish I had my hair color back.”
“Oh my gosh, I feel that weird thing stirring in me.” Amelia flapped her hands. “It’s coming.”
“Probably a stomach bug,” Cordelia said in a bored tone. But she didn’t look bored. She watched the entire spectacle like a hawk on the hunt.
Magic poured from Amelia’s hands. I felt the tingle again. When it was finished, I glanced at Amelia, who grimaced.
My hopes plummeted to the floor. “It’s not better, is it?”
“It’s black,” Amelia croaked.
“Well at least that’s the original color she wanted,” Cordelia said. “Step aside and let me handle this.”
She shoved Amelia away and cracked her knuckles. She wiggled her fingers, but I didn’t feel a tingle of any sort.
“It didn’t work,” Amelia said flatly. “You didn’t fix her, Cordelia. It’s worse.”
Oh God. How could it be worse? Was it green? I glanced in the mirror. Back to white. It was back to old-lady white.
Cordelia glanced at her hands. “I don’t understand. It should have worked. I’ve never had a problem with my magic before. I’ve even reversed spells that you’ve done, Amelia. I’ve been able to make it happen in the past. Why didn’t it work now?”
I had a very bad feeling that this was part of the wishing magic. Unfortunately I wasn’t the person to explain it to them even though I knew the secret.
Cordelia’s gaze slowly dragged from her hands to me. “You know something, don’t you, Pepper?”
I scoffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Amelia pointed at me. “You do. You made a wish, and then you made it again. Why did you do that? Why didn’t you just work the magic yourself? And why is my magic broken? I don’t understand.”
I sighed. “Look. I’m not the best person to explain this to you.”
“Explain what?” Cordelia folded her arms. “What aren’t you the best person to explain to us?”
I cringed and tucked a strand of bright white hair behind one ear. “Well, you see—”
“What she’s trying to say is that you girls have special powers.”
The three of us whirled around. The front door was open and standing there were Bean, Amelia’s father, Morgan, Cordelia’s dad, and Mint and Licky.
“We should’ve told you girls a long time ago,” Mint whispered.
“But the timing never seemed right,” Licky added.
“We’re sorry.” Mint wove her fingers through her hair.
Licky smiled. “But now we can tell you.”
“Tell us what?” Cordelia fisted her hands. “If someone doesn’t start talking soon, I’m going to disown all of you.”
Amelia looked impressed. “Wow. That’s a lot of people.”
“The holidays will be quieter,” Cordelia said. “No cooked turkeys running around the dining room.”
Amelia snorted. “You’d miss it.”
Cordelia hitched a shoulder. “I doubt it.” She pinned her attention back on the gang in the doorway. “What is it? What is it y’all have to tell us?”
Morgan, an extremely tall and fit bald man, stepped forward. “My dears, what we have to tell y’all is that you’re special.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “There’s got to be more to it than that. This is America. Everyone is special here.”
“But you are more special,” Morgan said. “Your blood holds very special genes.”
Cordelia crossed her arms. “What kind of special genes?”
Morgan smiled. “My beloved, in your veins dwells the blood of the ancients. You are witches, but you are more than that. You are wish granters—genies. You have the ability to bestow wishes on people.”
Amelia and Cordelia exchanged a long glance. Finally Amelia looked back at the throng of people. “I always knew I was special.” She pointed at me. “Now tell me how to fix her hair.”
ELEVEN
While my cousins and their parents had a quiet chat in the living room about being part genie and what that meant, I grabbed Betty and headed into the kitchen to peruse the Keating.
Hugo played outside in the backyard. Mattie was curled up on a floor-heating vent.
“Warmest place in town,” she said through a yawn. “What in the world happened to your hair?”
I tugged on a strand. “Oh. A wish gone wrong.”
“Looks like that wish went more than wrong. That wish turned sour on you and died.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel better.”
The cat blinked. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more sensitive. What you got there, sugarbear?”
“This? Oh, it’s Keating’s Book of Spells.”
“Gives me the willies just thinking about it.” Mattie stretched and jumped on the table. “Why in all the great big world do you have that book?”
“Well, I need to learn about poppets.”
“Page three hundred and six.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I know the Keating. Your mother had a copy.”
I nearly fell to the floor. “You’re kidding?”
“I am not.”
I peeled back the
cover and glanced at the table of contents. “But there are spells in here for summoning demons, creating love potions, conjuring the dead.”
“Your mother went through a period of experimentation in her teenage years.”
That made sense. I shrugged. “Most kids do, I guess. But Betty let her read this?”
“Of course not,” Mattie snapped. “Your mother snuck it in like contraband.”
“Wow. Did she ever make a poppet?”
“No.”
I stared at Mattie. She blinked slowly and proceeded to lick a paw and wash her face.
“You answered too quickly. So my mom made a poppet.”
“Maybe.”
I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair. “Listen, I’m not judging. I’m only trying to make sure Shelly Seay was killed by the use of one. That’s all. And maybe how far away they’d need to be in order to effectively use a poppet.”
“Three hundred and six,” Mattie repeated. “That’s the page which will explain everything you need to know.”
I flipped through the book. The yellowed pages were brittle and disintegrating at the ends. As I turned, I was careful not to tear any of the sheets.
“Here we are, page three hundred and six. The use of poppets.” I scanned the page. “Says here poppets can be made of many things—clay, cloth, even aluminum foil if you need quick protection.”
“Hmmm. Keep reading.”
“This just gives a list of ingredients for basic spells—protection, how to stop a gossip, money. It doesn’t say how to use a poppet to kill someone.”
“Turn the page,” Mattie instructed.
Hugo scratched at the back door. I rose and let him inside. Then I returned to my seat. The dragon slumped to the floor in front of me, and I propped my legs on him.
“Oh wow. It’s right here. How to use poppets to destroy your enemies. You weren’t kidding. Okay. Let me see the ingredients. A feather from a black crow, a buzzard’s beak—ew. This is gross.”
“Only a fool reads the Keating to put themselves in a good mood.”
I glared at Mattie. “I’m reading to understand what happened. At the potion contest, Axel and I smelled sulfur. It was strong and gross. Horrible. I don’t see anything in here that could’ve smelled like that.”