Quit Your Witchin'

by Dakota Cassidy

Win’s sigh of impatience resonated in my ear. “And that makes any sense how, Stevie? Use your logic, please. You’re right. Why would she send me to look after you if she’s no longer responsible for you? For that matter, why would she ask me to look out for you if she’s as callous as you claim?”

  “To keep an eye on me. To keep my mouth shut, maybe? Who better than an insider to spy on me to see if I was digging around where I shouldn’t be digging? Maybe she popped in yesterday to be sure you’d shown up for your duties.”

  “So you’re proposing I’ve inserted myself into your life because Baba Yaga asked me to? Did I also see to it Madam Zoltar was murdered in order to gain entry to your illustrious world?”

  And another fair point. “I’m just saying, it makes sense. Maybe not the murder, but BY asking you to spy on me is totally plausible. It could definitely benefit her, if she thought I was trying to figure out how to get my powers back. Maybe she doesn’t want me to have my powers back. I’m just asking you for some honesty, is all. I won’t hate you if you’re on BY’s payroll. Promise.”

  “That’s utterly preposterous! Are you mental? I’m insulted, and on that very question of my integrity, I’m going off to the plane where people don’t make such hasty, unfounded accusations!”

  My shoulders sagged. I’d hurt his feelings. Totally not my intent. “There is no such plane, Win.”

  Silence. He’d gone off in a huff.

  “You’ve done it now, Boss. You blew it.”

  The rush of adrenaline I’d experienced moments ago, when I was one-hundred percent on my theory, evaporated. “How do you know I blew anything? I was just spouting a theory that makes total sense.”

  “It does not, Stevie, and you know it. Baba doesn’t work that way. She’s a direct hit and always has been. So she knew his full name. Like that’s a shock? You don’t suppose she asked around the afterlife to see what you were up to? Who you were up to stuff with?”

  “But my theory certainly makes sense,” I defended, though somewhat weakly.

  “It doesn’t make sense because of Madam Zoltar. I mean, there’s coincidence and there’s coincidence. And why the fribbles would BY care what you told anyone about what happened to you, anyway? No one in the human world would believe you, and no one in the witch world will touch you with a ten-foot wand at this point. So now you and your impulsive theories have upset Winterbutt. Not nice, Stevie Cartwright. Also, by the way, I don’t like you right now.”

  “I was making a valid point.” Which grew less valid as I absorbed what I’d said on impulse.

  Maybe it was Win talking to me as though he had a right to tell me what I could and couldn’t do—or maybe I was still edgy about BY’s visit. She was a reminder of what I’d lost and it rubbed me the wrong way, and now I was taking it out on Win.

  Either way, coffee at Strange Brew didn’t sound as good as it had just moments ago.

  But Forrest waved to me from the window, motioning me to come in, his smile warm.

  I liked Forrest. I liked him a lot. I also figured he’d probably know where a guy like Jacob spent his free time when he wasn’t running from the permit-department man.

  “You owe Spy Guy an apology, Stevie,” Belfry reminded. “You accused him of something uncool. He’s our friend, and you don’t treat your friends like suspects. You’re getting just a little carried away these days, Boss.”

  I pressed my finger to the Bluetooth and held the other up at Forrest, signaling him to give me a minute. “You’re absolutely right. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, Bel. I just wanted to ask him before it ate me up. I don’t want any more secrets in my life.”

  “Well, good job, Jessica Fletcher. Sometimes you speak before you think. Now apologize.”

  Bel was right about that, too. I got wrapped up and spoke before I really thought things through. Certainly not the first time I’d done that, probably not the last. Regret stirred in my chest, heavy and tight. “Win? You there?”

  The warm breeze whistled down the sidewalk, the tulips and daffodils in pots lining the storefronts bending in cheerful colors, the echo of his silence profound.

  My shoulders slumped in defeat. “Aw, c’mon, Win. I’m sorry. I really am. I should have prefaced the question by saying it doesn’t matter if BY sent you—”

  “Ixnay on the BY-ay, Stevie. Gravy sakes, just apologize for saying something stupid, would you?”

  I let my head hang as Win’s absence grew louder. “I’m sorry, Win. I didn’t mean to insult you. Please don’t be angry.”

  “Better.” Belfry chirped his approval.

  I cocked an ear, and still nothing but the faraway sounds of early afternoon in Ebenezer Falls greeted me. “He’s pretty mad.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll get over it. At least I hope so. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s never gonna let you pick out the colors for the guest bath without his nose in the middle of it. So he’ll be back.”

  I chuckled. That made me feel a little better. “Okay, so in the meantime, let’s keep my mind busy and my mouth out of trouble and go poke around and see what we can find out about Jacob and where he hangs out. We need to talk to him.”

  I pushed my way into the coffee shop, smiling as Forrest held up a steaming mug of coffee in the enormously round ice-cream-colored cups that were the shop’s signature.

  As I sat down at one of the wrought iron tables in a chair Forrest held for me, I saw a tow truck attaching a hitch to Tito’s truck and my heart sank.

  I needed to find out whodunit and I needed to do it pronto.

  And I needed Win to accept my apology.

  Nothing felt right without Win in my ear.

  Chapter 9

  So, I’ve decided Win was right.

  I decided this while Jacob, of Deep Sea Diver fame, had me up against a wall on his tiny hot mess of a fishing boat, a.k.a, his place of residence.

  Let me explain.

  After Forrest told me Jacob lived here on the docks, I decided to snoop around and see what was what. I thought maybe I could cajole some answers out of him. You know, play the “cute” card. I hated doing it, but I’m not above using some of the wiles my mother passed down to me if it meant helping Juan Felipe and Mateo, and most especially Maggie, who was living with some serious guilt right now.

  Win says I suck rocks at being flirty, but I was willing to give it my best shot.

  Anyway, I was doing what I do—peeking into the windows on his rusty boat, not touching anything, mind you, casually stepping off the dock and onto the deck when, out of nowhere, a hand wide enough to fit around my neck with a kung-fu grip snatched me up, dragged me down some rickety stairs and hauled me up against an equally rickety wall.

  As the boat rocked and the water swelled, making my coffee-filled stomach slosh, I fought to breathe.

  “Who the hell are you?” Jacob, as described with great flourish by Chester, asked.

  I lifted my chin to ease the pressure of his grip, and because my face was so hot from his hold on me, I was sure my skin was going to melt off. “Let go of me!” I rasped out.

  Jacob snarled, his yellowed teeth clenched, his thin upper lip dotted in sweat. “Not until you tell me why the hell you’re snoopin’ around my boat, lady!”

  My legs trembled uselessly as I made an attempt to claw at his fingers. “I can’t…talk…if…you won’t. Let. Go!”

  Jacob didn’t ease up, not even a little. If anything, he squeezed harder, and that was when it dawned on me. I should have given those sit-ups Win tried to drill into me a real effort, because my core was pathetically weak as I dangled like a worm on a hook.

  “Who are you? Answer me or I’m gonna squeeze the life right outta ya!” Jacob roared in my face with so much force, my bangs lifted upward from his expelled breath.

  Which, by the by, smelled like Johnnie Walker Red.

  “Stevie, listen! Use your knees, love. You’re in the perfect position to do so. Use them in a full upward motion until you connect with parts southerly. Put y
our arms and hands against the wall he has you pressed to, use it as leverage, and knock his boys until they clang!”

  Oh, thank God Win was back! Relief flooded me, giving me the focus I needed to do what had to be done.

  And as directed, I did just that. Pressing my palms flat against the stained wall of the cabin, I used my hands and shoulders to gain some momentum and lifted my knee, thankful I’d worn a dress. Utilizing every last ounce of energy I had, gagging and sputtering, I rammed into Jacob the Deep Sea Diver’s naughty bits as hard as I could with the cap of my knee.

  He yowled long and agonizingly shrill, tossing me so swiftly, I didn’t have time to brace myself before I landed on the floor with a crack to my tailbone.

  “Call 9-1-1, Stevie! Do it now!” Win briskly ordered the direction.

  Scrambling for my purse and poor Belfry, I clenched my teeth as a sharp dagger of pain got me right in the center my battered butt cheeks.

  But Jacob was back on his feet far faster than I would have given him credit for after the beating his two little soldiers had just taken.

  And if his face, contorted in a mask of rage, was any indication, master was displeased.

  He staggered, he stumbled, but he came back for more, his enormous body filling the small cabin as he lunged, big hands outstretched and ready to recapture my neck.

  But that was when a tiny dot of white fuzz zipped upward from my cute pink Birkin knockoff, wings flapping in a wild whir of motion, aiming right for Jacob’s block head.

  “Belfry, noooo!” I hollered, just as I attempted to regain my footing, only to become tangled in a jacket on the floor. I fumbled over the slicker, my feet getting twisted up until I tripped again, this time landing on my elbow.

  But my knight in shining fuzz paid no mind to my order—he went for Jacob’s ear, pinging it with his teeth like a bee stinging flesh before he popped back up in the air. As Jacob swatted at the annoyance, seething with rage, Bel took another swipe at him, this time to his neck.

  “What the…?” Jacob screamed his outrage as his focus now shifted to getting his hands on whatever was swooping in and taking tiny chunks of his flesh. He waved his arms wildly, knocking over pots and pans hanging in the tiny galley, taking out a stack of heavy ceramic bowls that crashed to the floor.

  “Stevie—get that phone!” Win yelled at me.

  I managed to slide across the floor and avoid Jacob’s clunky work boots. Grabbing my fallen purse, I dug out my phone and unlocked it, dialing 9-1-1.

  When the operator answered, I yelled, “Help! I’m at the marina! Send help!”

  “Location, Stevie. Give them your location,” Win said in my ear, and I know he was trying to keep me calm, but Belfry was going to end up like a bug on a windshield if we didn’t get someone to stop this raging bull.

  “Ma’am? What’s your location?”

  Jacob was intent on catching Bel, who had plucked at his cheeks, leaving them crisscrossed with tiny Belfry bite marks. “The marina!” I shrieked. “Send someone fast! It’s the boat in the marina. The one with all the screaming!”

  “Ma’am? I need you to calm down, please, and tell me your location,” the voice replied, even in tone.

  I tried to scoot up against the wall once more, thinking I might shimmy my way back up, but I swear I think I broke my tailbone, judging by the shooting pain running from the top of my butt cheek and down along my thigh.

  “Ma’am? What’s your location?” he asked once more, obviously attempting to keep me calm, which was only making me feel like my urgency was going unheard.

  Now, here’s the thing: I was a 9-1-1 operator before I was excommunicated, and while I dealt with more unusual issues, like wands exploding and cauldrons blowing frog guts all over the place, I knew I should be calm and give all pertinent information with succinct description.

  But Belfry had never been at stake before, so I sort of lost my nuts.

  “Ma’am! Your location!”

  All my training went out the window and I turned into a screaming shrew. “This isn’t real estate! I’m on an effin’ boat at the docks! You know, like, ‘Rock The Boat’, The Love Boat, floaty, in the water, life vests, Titanic boooat!” I screamed into the phone, unable to think any more clearly than that as Belfry continued to assault Jacob, tweaking his flesh at every available opportunity.

  One swat of Jacob’s meaty hand and Belfry was toast. “Belfry! Stop!”

  “Ma’am, who’s Belfry? Is he there with you? Is he in danger, too? Or is he the perpetrator?”

  I tried again to push my way back up the wall, but I’m telling you, I think I broke my butt.

  “Ma’am? Who. Is. Belfry?” The operator had grown more insistent now, his tone urgent as he enunciated words.

  Sweet Pete in a pasture, but I couldn’t get my head together. “No! Yes! Wait—no! I don’t know who he is! Please just send someone now!”

  Finally I managed to inch my way up the wall, the shooting pain running the length of my thigh making me want to scream and gnash my teeth. But I was up, and as I pitched forward, Belfry took a final stab at Jacob right between his bulging, bloodshot eyes.

  “Belfry! Stop this instant!” Win hollered with an anxious tone I rarely heard from him. If Spy guy was concerned for Bel, there was imminent danger.

  I fell into the hard wall of Jacob’s chest just as he reached up and took one last swipe at Belfry, only this time, my little warrior wasn’t quick enough and Jacob caught him in the palm of his hand.

  “What the hell is this thing?” he roared in anger, launching Bel across the cabin, where he hit the wall with a tiny whimpered squeak.

  As I watched my little friend hit that wall with the force of a softball, I think my head spun around in a circle a la Linda Blair in The Exorcist. So I admit, I flipped out…saw all the colors of the rainbow…would have spewed pea soup if I had anything but coffee and an apple/blueberry muffin in my stomach.

  As the 9-1-1 operator called to me again, I dropped the phone.

  “I will kill you!” I raged, charging at Jacob like I was a bull in Pamplona, driving my head into him and successfully knocking him to the ground, where I jumped on him and clocked him right in the eye. Then I grabbed one of the ceramic bowls from the floor and cracked it over his head.

  Of course, my victory was fleeting, and it was only seconds before he rolled me and pinned me to the ground, his enormous fist balled and ready to knock my fool head off.

  I closed my eyes to prepare even as I reared upward, attempting to knock him off me.

  Then two things happened at once. Win was in my ear, shouting more directions, and Jacob was suddenly shaking like he’d been hit with two thousand volts of electricity.

  He fell from me in a quaking puddle of limbs, his face frozen in rage, his fingers turning into claws before he slumped and went limp.

  Holy cow. Someone had tasered him. I’d cheer, but it hurt too much to expend the effort.

  “Belfry!” I whimpered.

  “He’s all right, Dove. Climbing back into your purse to hide as we speak,” Win reassured me.

  I breathed a sigh of relief then winced in pain when I tried to swallow.

  “Stevie!” someone yelled before a shadow cast over me. When I opened my eyes, I saw Sandwich kneeling next to me, his face riddled with concern. “What the heck happened and why are you on Dietrich’s boat?”

  I moaned, my butt on absolute fire. “Is that his last name?” It’s always nice to know the full name of the man who almost knocked you into kingdom come.

  Sandwich nodded, and I was sure a scolding was at the ready on the tip of his tongue. “Yes, Stevie. That’s his last name. Now what are you doing on his boat?”

  I tried to sit up, but I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be able to use my back end again. Sandwich offered me a hand, pulling me up to my feet. I had to clench my teeth together to keep from screeching, the pain was so intense, but I hobbled upright, gripping his arm when he led me to the corner, where a built-in benc
h sat behind a table.

  It was covered in whiskey bottles, wrappers from those pink, sugary snowballs (gak! Have some respect for your body and eat the classy empty-calorie treats, Jacob!), and a grease-stained cookbook.

  “Sit down and tell me what happened here.”

  I held up a hand. No way could I put my throbbing keister on the hard wood of the bench. “I think I broke my butt. I can stand, thanks. And well, I was sort of—”

  “Snooping around,” Win finished in my ear.

  “Snooping around,” Sandwich prompted almost directly after, a look of admonishment on his face.

  “Okay, fine,” I said on a roll of my eyes. “I was snooping. I watched them tow away Tito’s truck today and it made me crazy, thinking the Bustamante boys are going to suffer, and Maggie’s going to suffer, if they don’t have a way to earn a living. And you know how long things are tied up in red tape in evidence, Sandwich. So I just thought I’d—”

  “Try to move things along at the speed you think things should be moving along?” Sandwich supplied with a purse of his lips and a frown.

  Wrinkling my nose, I had to admit that was a fair assessment. “Okay, that too. Yes, I wanted to move things along, for lack of a better phrase. But out of nowhere, he grabbed me, dragged me down the steps and held me up against the wall, demanding to know what I wanted. I couldn’t have told him even if I wanted to because I couldn’t breathe. And then things got hinky. Something, I don’t know what, attacked him and he went ballistic. Swearing, yelling. You know, typical roid-rage stuff. I think he was seeing things because I didn’t see anything.”

  Phew. I was a crappy liar. I had to let my head hang low and pretend I was rubbing my aching temples.

  Sandwich nodded like he’d known all along what I was up to. “And who’s Belfry?”

  I made my eyes round and Thumper-ish. “Who?”

  Sandwich’s face said he didn’t believe a word I was saying. “The 9-1-1 operator said you mentioned a Belfry. Was it someone helping Jacob? Or was he or she with you?”

  “Oh, he must’ve misunderstood me. I don’t know any Belfry. There was no one but me and that lunatic here.”