by Amy Boyles
“Then you haven’t reached the last ingredient.”
“Let’s see-dragon’s breath. Wait.” My mind whirled. “Dragon’s breath? That’s a weird ingredient.”
“You’re trying to kill someone, not make a peach cobbler.”
“I guess that’s true.” I scanned the list until I found what she meant. “Rotten eggs—which would smell like sulfur.”
“Ain’t you smart?”
I tapped my fingers on the page. “So that would’ve been the sulfur we smelled. But I’ve got to find the poppet. It isn’t enough that we think one was used. I need to know more.”
I nibbled my bottom lip as I remembered something Axel had said. “Mattie?”
“Yes, sugar?”
“Do you think you could talk to Betty? I can’t talk to her. I’m not sure why. Axel thought maybe another animal would be able to reach her.”
“I can try.”
The cat slinked over to Betty and touched noses with the toad. Betty didn’t move. After several seconds Mattie broke away.
“Girl, we’ve got a problem.”
That didn’t sound good. “What do you mean, we’ve got a problem? That’s Betty in there.”
Mattie padded to the other side of the table and stared at the toad. “I cain’t get through to her. I don’t know what it is. I’m not sure if it’s the frog brain—”
“Toad. She’s a toad,” I clarified.
“That’s what I said. I ain’t sure if it’s her toad brain or what, but I cain’t hear one lick of sound coming through that there brain of hers. Usually I can hear something. Or sense something, but there ain’t nothin’ there for me to sense.”
I did my best to ease the rising panic in my chest. This was bad. No, this wasn’t bad. This could be horrible.
Wait. Maybe I needed to take a few breaths and get a grip. Yes. I needed a grip. To calm down.
“But surely that doesn’t mean anything,” I said. “Surely you can’t hear her just because she’s a toad and you’re not an amphibian.”
“You’re not a cat, but you can talk to me.”
I scoffed. “Everyone can talk to you because you’re a talking cat.”
Mattie rubbed her whiskers. “What I’m saying is that I think it’s more than simply the fact that Betty’s a toad that’s the problem.”
“Okay. So what is it?”
I did everything I could to shove down the dread rising in my throat. It didn’t work. My chest flushed from nerves.
“I think that Betty the toad is a problem because she’s forgetting who she is.”
I grimaced. “You think she isn’t communicating because she doesn’t remember she’s Betty?”
“Right,” Mattie said, “and if we don’t save her soon, we’ll lose her forever.”
TWELVE
That was all I needed to hear. Betty had to be freed ASAP. I had called Axel, but there wasn’t an answer. I would be forced to use the bands I’d bought him and myself for Christmas. There was no doubt about it. But since I couldn’t reach him, maybe there was something else I could do that would at least help us along.
I rushed from the kitchen with Hugo at my heels and ran smack into my cousins and aunts and I guess uncles, even though we weren’t blood related.
“Pepper,” Amelia said, “do you want me to fix your hair?”
Morgan squeezed Amelia’s hand. “We’ve discussed this already. It’s not how wishes work.”
Crap. If I had a horrible feeling about Betty, I had an almost-horrible feeling about my cousins as one-quarter genies. A feeling, I would like to add, that I had brought upon myself when I wished for hair of another color.
Stupid me. Seriously. I should’ve known better.
I shoved my hands in my coat sleeves. “Don’t worry about it right now, Amelia. We can discuss it when I get back. But Betty and Mattie are in the kitchen. Can y’all look after them?”
“We’d love to,” Cordelia said. I looked for a glimmer of sarcasm in her words, but she smiled widely. “Seriously. We’d love to watch them. Go on.”
I grabbed my cast-iron skillet and nudged Hugo out the door. “Come on, boy, let’s go have a chocolate mocha.”
Gargoyle’s Grind was located on Bubbling Cauldron, along the main strip. It was a cozy little joint that featured live music, open mic nights and even open witchcraft nights for witches interested in testing a new spell on folks and for folks who enjoyed watching and learning new spells.
It also happened, on this day, to be the home of the potion contestant support group. Where witches who’d wanted to dazzle the world with their latest potion had witnessed their dreams die in flames when Shelly Seay was murdered.
And I was about to join them.
It only took a few moments to spot the circle of witches. They took up one side of the shop, having pushed several four-tops together to make one gigantic table.
I ordered a coffee for me and bought a dog biscuit for Hugo. Yes, he likes fresh meat better, but he would take a doggie treat, especially one covered in icing, anytime he could.
I led him to the back of the table, where there happened to be one open spot.
The young man, Anthony, the one who had led Saltz Swift away to start the judging, was speaking.
“I didn’t make a potion this year. I wished I had, but I wanted to be the stage manager of the show. So I commend all of you for making potions. There have been some great ones. Some I’d never heard of, and also others I wished I was smart enough to have come up with.”
His head of curls bobbed as he nodded toward Gale East. “Tell us what you brought, Gale.”
Gale’s gaze dropped to her hands folded in her lap. “It’s nothing, really.”
“It’s definitely something,” Anthony prodded her gently. “It’s an achievement to even enter the contest.”
“I don’t know.”
Anthony pushed up his sleeves. “Do you realize how many people say they’re going to enter the contest but don’t?”
Gale lifted her eyes shyly. “How many?”
“Hundreds. Thousands.” Anthony might’ve been reaching with the thousands comment, but hey, who was I to judge?
Gale slowly smiled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You could almost see Anthony’s gusto. “Absolutely. So tell us what you made.”
Gale rubbed her face like she was trying to smooth out wrinkles, and smiled. “I created a potion that will help anyone find a magical creature.”
A few oohs and ahhhs drifted from the table.
She cleared her throat. “How many times have you been in the middle of an important spell and realized you didn’t have a feather from a griffin? Or fur from a talking bunny?”
Lots of murmurs of “me” and “and the time” popped up.
Gale tapped a fist on the table. “Me too. So many.”
Who were these witches that they didn’t read the spells before they started them? That was like making a recipe before reading the whole thing.
Oh wait. I’m sure I’ve done that before and realized I was missing something or needed something.
Okay, so maybe Gale Wind—I mean, East—had a point.
She pulled a porcelain bottle from her purse. “So I wanted to make it easy and help witches find these creatures. I wanted to take the guesswork out of creature searching.”
A lady with wiry gray hair clapped. “Bravo!”
Gale’s gaze cut to Hugo, who lay stretched on the floor, happily gobbling his dog treat. She glanced at me. Her eyes flared. Oh, the hair. Right. I still had old-lady white hair. I shrugged and smiled.
“May I demonstrate on your dragon?” Gale nodded to Hugo.
I waved my hand. “Go right ahead.”
She opened the porcelain box. I couldn’t see the liquid from where I sat, but Gale pulled a cotton ball from her pocket.
She concentrated on pouring the bluish potion onto the cotton. “I’ve tried lots of things, but cotton works the best. You could maybe try an old T-shirt if
you had to. That might work too.”
The ball rose from her hand. It was now a golden color and reminded me of a tiny sun. I wondered if it had its own heat.
Gale spoke directly to the orb. “Find me a dragon, for it is a dragon I seek. It must breathe fire and have scales from head to toe for the spell I need.”
The ball whizzed to the ceiling like a gunshot. It darted left and right before coming to a quick stop. It spun around, then dropped with amazing speed back to Gale.
“Go,” she said, “I will follow.”
Then the orb sailed over to Hugo and hovered over his head. Hugo snapped at the orb as if biting at annoying flies.
Gale’s mouth split into a wide grin. “That’s it. That’s how it’s done.”
The table erupted into applause. Even I clapped. That had been pretty impressive.
She opened her palm, and the cotton ball zipped to her and sank into her cupped hand. Gale crushed the ball and looked up at all of us proudly. “Thank you. Thank all of y’all.”
Anthony’s gaze flickered to me. “A new guest snuck into our midst. Please, introduce yourself.”
Oh Lord. All eyes were on me. Adrenaline rocketed through my body. I hated speaking in front of folks. It was the worst. But I had no choice. Betty must be saved.
“Umm hmmm. I’m Pepper Dunn. I don’t normally look like this. I usually have red hair. I’m way too young to have a few grays let alone a full head of them. Let’s call it a wish gone wrong.”
Several silver-haired witches glared at me.
“Sorry. Anyway, I’m here because of my grandmother. Many of you may know her. Betty Craple.”
A few murmurs of recognition rose from the table.
“Yes, well, she was turned into a toad by Shelly Seay, and now she’s trapped.”
A knot filled my chest. It bore down on me, suffocating, cutting off my air and filling me with pain.
It was horrible. I always thought things would work out. That everything would be fine, but what if it wasn’t? What if Axel and I couldn’t find a solution? What if Betty was stuck as a toad forever? What if Shelly’s potion was never discovered and no one was pinned for her murder?
I knuckled away several tears. “Anyway, I’m here not because I have a potion to share. I did make one but…I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m here because I need your help. Shelly Seay was murdered. I know she was, and unless we can discover who killed her, my grandmother will remain a toad forever.”
I received a few sympathetic smiles, but that was it. Anthony waited a few seconds.
“If anyone knows something that will help Pepper, please be sure to tell her.” He crossed his arms on the table and tapped his fingers. “Now, who’s next?”
When the meeting finished up, I approached Gale. It was way too coincidental that her potion had originally targeted Hugo and then the poppet spell had needed dragon’s breath.
Was it possible that she’d been able to snag some of Hugo’s breath when the potion went after him?
She’d just shouldered her purse when I shot her a wide smile. As I sidled up, I realized I’d forgotten how small Gale was. Maybe only five feet tall or so with messy dark hair that just brushed her chin.
“Hey, Gale. That was so cool. Love your potion.”
She laughed nervously. “Yeah, well, it turned out a lot better than the other day, didn’t it? I hope I didn’t scare you then.”
“No, not at all.” Hugo bounded up beside me, and I patted his head. “But it’s so funny about that. I was looking at an old spell book the other day and came across one that needed dragon’s breath. If I didn’t already have one—a dragon, I mean—I’d have a hard time finding some.”
Gale puffed out her chest with pride. “Which is why you’d need my spell.”
“Yeah.” My gaze drifted away. “You know the spell book was a really interesting one. What was the name of it?” I tapped a finger to my chin. “I remember!” I snapped my fingers. “It was Keating’s something or other—Book of Spells, I think. Ever heard of it?”
Her eyes flared. Of course she’d heard of it. Gale had checked it out.
She recovered by tucking a stubby strand of hair behind her ear. “Nope. No. I’ve never heard of it. Sounds like an interesting book.”
“It is,” I mused. “Very interesting. Lots of unique spells.”
Her gaze darted to her watch. “Oh, well. Look at that. I have to get going.”
I grabbed Hugo’s leash. “See you around.”
I watched her walk off and didn’t hear the person padding up behind me until I felt something brush over my shoulders.
I jerked back. Anthony smiled. “You had some hair on you. Just getting it off.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure at all if I was grateful or creeped out. What guy brushed loose strands of hair from a stranger’s shoulders?
But my uncertainty was quickly replaced when he nodded toward Gale. “Interesting potion.”
“It was.” I put as much cheer into my voice as possible.
“Listen.” Anthony’s speech lowered. He fingered his glasses up his nose and glanced side to side. “That Gale. I don’t want to tell you anything that may worry you, but she’s strange.”
“How do you mean?”
“She was always working spells that were kind of dark, sinister.”
I pointed to Hugo. “You mean the sort of craft that would involve him?”
“Among other beings.” He shivered. “I don’t want to make you nervous or say she’s guilty of anything, but when she was at the school of magic, Gale dabbled in dark stuff. Really dark stuff. Shelly Seay was her mentor.”
That took me by surprise. “Her mentor?”
The knot in Anthony’s throat bobbed when he swallowed. “They were really close.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Oh, well I work at the school.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not anybody special. I do a lot of the class scheduling. No one pays much attention to me, so I have time to pay attention to them.”
I studied his soft, round face that reminded me of dough, his bright eyes that were sharp yet kind. Anthony seemed absolutely harmless.
I leaned in. “What else can you tell me about Gale?”
He cleared his throat. “I can tell you it was because she worked a spell full of dark magic that she was expelled from school.”
“What sort of spell?”
He licked his full lips. “A poppet spell.”
THIRTEEN
“What happened to your hair?”
“Do we have to discuss it?”
Axel and I sat at Spellin’ Skillet grabbing a quick bite to eat as we regrouped.
He pointed to my white tendrils. “I like it.”
I nearly raked my fingers down my face. I mean, was he kidding? “You’re only saying that.”
“No, I’m not. It’s like stardust.”
“I look a thousand years old.”
“Only to an old man.”
I choked on a sip of sweet tea. “That might be the almost nicest compliment I’ve ever received in my life.”
He winked. “You’re welcome.” Axel cut into a country-fried steak. “So how’d the hair happen?”
“My cousins are officially genies. Well, part genies.” I scooped a forkful of creamed corn and popped it in my mouth. Oh, sheer bliss. Corn and cream and butter. Seriously, there was absolutely nothing wrong with this combination.
“How do you manage to eat fried foods and stay so fit?” I said.
“I run. I’m also part werewolf.” He waved his fork. “That helps.”
“Aren’t you lucky.”
He hitched a dark and luscious brow. “I guess I am. Now, did your cousins figure out the genie thing on their own?”
“You just have to pry, don’t you?”
“Love, I know when you’ve had something to do with things.”
I shuddered. The word love on his tongue made my body turn to jelly. “T
hey were arguing, and well, I guess I kind of forced it.”
“Kind of?”
Heat flushed my cheeks. “They were going to kill each other over their dads. Do we trust them? Do we not? Well, I made a wish and Amelia granted it.”
“Very badly.” He sliced into an asparagus spear. “Problem is, I think only the genie who granted the wish can fix it.”
I groaned. “Then I have no chance of ever getting my original hair back.”
He grabbed my hand. I fissure of fire blazed over my flesh. Our gazes snapped like locks into place.
“I will make sure you’re taken care of,” Axel murmured. “If I haven’t made that clear before, you should know. That is my duty in life.”
“You’re only duty?”
“Let’s not push things.” He laughed. “Yes, it’s my main duty. Keeping you safe and protected.”
“Along with fighting crime, of course.”
Mischief sparked in his eyes. “Of course.”
We hadn’t said the word love that much since we’d confessed it and Axel had then vanished without a trace for weeks, but I knew he loved me.
Before I could focus on that too much, however, Axel brought me back to the now. “So, did you recite poetry at Gargoyle’s Grind?”
“How’d you know?” I laughed. “No. But I did discover that Gale East—”
“The one who checked out Keating?”
“Yes. She was expelled from the school for the use of poppets. So you were right. She didn’t flunk out after all.”
Axel rose. He whipped on his jacket. I followed suit.
“What’re you doing?”
He tossed back the last bit of coffee in his mug. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re going to have a little conversation with Gale East.”
I shouldered my purse as my phone buzzed. I slid it from my pocket. “Hello?”
“Pepper.” Cordelia’s voice rose in panic.
“What’s wrong?” I tried not to let her panic overcome me. I gritted my teeth and tightened my neck. I knew it had to do with Betty. It just had to.
“Betty looks sick.”