Southern Wands

by Amy Boyles

  I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. It would be on Lacy, of course.

  I crossed to her limp body and proceeded to run my fingers along her pockets, searching for metal. I felt like a burglar, a really inappropriate one at that as I patted her down.

  No key.

  My mind raced. Slug’s trunk hadn’t been locked. I’d simply opened it. Placed my hand on it and the lid easily lifted. Or was I wrong? Had the trunk actually been locked the whole time but I’d been able to unlock it with the touch of my hand—or a hand that resembled Slug’s enough that the trunk unlocked?

  My stomach twisted. That was the answer. I knew it.

  The trunk had recognized Slug down to her touch, and that’s what had allowed me to open it. If I was going to delve inside Lacy’s, I would need her to unlock it for me.

  Or at least her hand.

  The trunk lay in the center of the room, and Lacy lay by the front flap.

  One of them would have to move, but which one?

  A minute later I was praying the sleeping spell was still working when I hiked my arms under Lacy’s limp frame and tugged her toward the chest.

  She mumbled softly. “Don’t make me drink that milkshake, all those extra calories.”

  I shook my head and continued to heave and yank.

  Deadweight, even living deadweight, was heavier than I’d anticipated. But I continued on, finally reaching the rectangular trunk.

  I exhaled and settled Lacy down. I grabbed her wrist and laid her hand on top. Hoping that was enough, I snaked my fingers underneath the lid and pushed.

  It opened.

  A squeal almost escaped my lips. I glanced down at Lacy. Her chest moved steadily, and her lids were firmly shut. I peered into the trunk and started madly searching for a fire stone.

  Rufus had described it to me in detail. It would look like a chunk of silvery flint, with sharp edges. The rock would almost appear molten, and the weight would be surprisingly heavy.

  I riffled through clothes and books, candlesticks and glass orbs, but I didn’t find a rock. I searched again, just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, pulling the clothing and other objects out to pile them on the ground. I was careful, making sure I remembered how each piece had been placed inside. I didn’t want to give Lacy a reason to think someone had been searching through her things.

  But even on a second search, I came up with nothing. No fire stone. I went about putting everything back. I’d just closed the lid when a low growl filled the tent.

  I glanced up to see Hugo awake. The dragon glared at me. Smoke curled from his nostrils.

  My gaze darted to Lacy. Her shut eyes and even breathing revealed the spell still held her fast.

  “Hugo,” I whispered, “it’s me, Pepper.”

  His growl deepened. It wouldn’t work. He would think I was Slug. My voice sounded like hers.

  But what about my scent? Surely that wouldn’t have changed. I should still smell like Pepper.

  I shot a furtive glance to Lacy.

  Still sleeping.

  I swallowed down a worry knot that was stuck in the back of my throat and crossed to the dragon.

  His lips parted, and he bared teeth. I would not be frightened of my own familiar. I extended my hand for him to sniff.

  Saliva dripped from his jowls.

  “Hugo, it’s me.”

  I placed my hand as close to his mouth as I dared. Hugo stared at me and slowly craned his neck to sniff.

  “Come on, boy,” I coaxed. “It’s me. Mama.”

  Hugo inhaled deeply. His gaze flashed up to me, and I smiled widely. “See? It’s me.”

  My dragon pulled back his lips, revealing more teeth. A second later his jaw opened.

  I ducked as a stream of fire flamed from his mouth.

  Panic filled me. Hugo screeched, his warning obvious. Get out or I would be scorched.

  I left Lacy on the rug beside her trunk and headed into the darkness.

  I knew I smelled like myself. Hugo would’ve recognized my scent. This could mean only one thing—Lacy had turned my own dragon against me.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Do you think that sheriff is doing anything to discover Bee’s killer?” I said to Lacy over breakfast the next day.

  Luckily none of the witches had figured out they’d been subject to a sleeping potion. I had wondered if Sherman’s forgetful spell would work on the guard who’d caught him and Rufus, but no alarms had been sounded after the sleeping spell wore off.

  Lacy sneered at my question. “Do you think I care? Bee was a fly in the ointment. If she’d been able, she would have made sure we didn’t come here. She needed to go.”

  Lacy peered at me. “I thought that’s what you wanted, the opportunity for a seat?”

  “I do,” I added quickly, “but if someone killed her, why? And will they target one of us?”

  Lacy waved away my concern. “I wouldn’t think it mattered to you. It doesn’t to me. For all we know, her own son killed her.”

  I laughed heartily at that, thinking it was a joke.

  Lacy stared blankly at me. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

  She snorted. “Of course not. Everyone knows Sherman wanted Bee to teach him how to use his powers better. Being only half head witch, you would think he had more practice, more control. But he’s a dimwit as well as a half witch.”

  Lacy threw back her head and laughed at her own joke. I paused but then realized that as Slug I would be laughing as well, so I did, being sure to lift my chin and chuckle as if her joke was the funniest thing I’d heard in my entire life.

  Trust me, it wasn’t.

  Lacy leaned over and patted Hugo’s head. My dragon was chained, which was good because every time he and I locked gazes, he growled.

  Which was what he was doing now.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Lacy said. “He didn’t have a problem with you yesterday.”

  I shrugged. “He’s an animal, Lacy, and a familiar to a silly witch, at that.”

  She stroked his head. “Yes, and it seems my plan to make him love me is working wonderfully. I only hope when he sees his old mistress again, he scorches her.”

  “I’m sure he will,” I murmured, knowing that whatever Lacy had done to my dragon put him in her clutches.

  “Tell me, what do you plan with the creature? I mean, once you’ve defeated Pepper, that is.”

  Lacy’s eyes filled with lust. “Once I’ve shown the girl that she can’t defeat me, with or without my wand, I’ll take her powers, leaving her a shell of what she once was. Of course once that’s done, I’ll also find whoever stole my wand, kill them and then this little guy”—she smiled sweetly at Hugo—“will be turned into a new outfit with matching shoes and handbag, of course.”

  “Of course,” I agreed.

  My stomach squirmed, but over cups of hot tea, Lacy and I threw our heads back and laughed at our beautiful wickedness.

  But what she’d said set my mind in motion. She hadn’t killed Bee, but she thought that Sherman had.

  I had my doubts about that. Sherman didn’t seem like a killer. Unless he was the best actor in the world, that was.

  I doubted he had that much talent.

  But it also got me thinking that maybe there were clues inside Bee’s tent, if it was still intact.

  But how could I get in there without anyone thinking me suspicious?

  After I left Lacy, I wandered through the Orders’ ranks, trying to figure out a plan. It didn’t occur to me until I was back in Slug’s tent, staring at the ground.

  From the corner of my eye I noticed something move. I glanced over and saw a little bit of white fur dart from one side of the tent to another.

  “Stevie,” I whispered. “Is that you?”

  The small guinea pig scurried out from behind the trunk. His nose twitched as he sat back on his haunches and brushed a paw over his whiskers.

  “It’s me,” he said. I wondered why he spoke sometimes and n
ot others, but then decided it probably had something to do with the size of his brain—it being very small and all.

  Was that prejudice, thinking that because his brain was small, his vocabulary was limited?

  Probably.

  “Did you follow me?”

  The little guy didn’t answer, but as he pawed his whiskers, something started protruding from his mouth.

  “What is that?”

  Stevie patted his mouth more and more until the thing came out.

  “A wand,” I said, surprised. “Bee’s wand.”

  It was. Long silvery strands wound around the long piece of wood. “It’s been missing,” I said. “How’d you fit it in your mouth?”

  “Big cheeks,” he said.

  No one had been able to find Bee’s wand since the night of her murder.

  Here it sat. Right in front of me and Stevie had found it. I traced my fingers over the silvery strands. The core wood felt charged, and the silver hummed as if ready to be used.

  “Where did it come from?”

  Stevie turned and started to dart from the tent. “Wait,” I called. “Not now. We can’t go out in the middle of the day.”

  The guinea pig turned and trotted back to me, stopping at my feet. He stared up at me curiously. I tapped the wand against my thigh, thinking.

  “We’ll go at nightfall. In the meantime”—I stowed the wand in my robe and picked up Stevie—“you need to stay out of sight. Think you can do that?”

  Without missing a beat, the rodent scurried into my robes and hid. Now all I had to do was wait.

  When darkness fell, I released Stevie from my robes. The little guy had been a real trooper, staying quietly tucked away for the better part of the day.

  But as soon as I felt it was safe to release him, I allowed the rodent to scurry on out into the camp.

  He darted from the skirt of one tent to another. I followed, staying close. My gaze swept the area to make sure no one had caught sight of the little guy.

  I grimaced just thinking what Lacy would do if she saw him. Poor little Stevie wouldn’t last on the planet another second if Lacy had her way.

  Finally the guinea pig dashed into a dark brown tent. It was a rich color and the material was suede. This was the thing about tents in the Order—no one knocked. If one witch wanted to visit another, she’d sweep the entrance flap aside and stride on in.

  Needless to say, none of them had issues with modesty.

  I opened the flap, but the tent was empty except for Stevie sitting in a chair.

  “You found it here?”

  The guinea pig hopped up and down to say yes. I frowned. Whose tent was this? I glanced around the room, wondering if I would another fire stone hiding somewhere.

  There was no way I’d be able to get into the trunk. Even so, I moved to the center of the room where a trunk sat and placed a hand on it. When I lifted, it didn’t budge. No surprise there.

  I was standing in the middle of the room, still debating what to do when I heard someone enter.

  “What are you doing in here? You can’t be seen with me.”

  I turned around to find Sherman blocking my path.

  My heart fluttered up into my throat. He’d had the wand. His mother’s wand—one he could’ve only received if she’d died.

  Perhaps that wasn’t true. Maybe Bee had given him the wand before death.

  But why wouldn’t Sherman have said so? Why wouldn’t he have simply admitted that he’d been hanging on to it?

  It made no sense. No one knew what had happened to Bee’s wand. Lacy had accused me of stealing it, but no one had found it. Until now.

  Sherman had it.

  I had to be honest with myself.

  The only way Sherman Oaks could’ve gotten hold of Bee’s wand was if he stole it from her.

  I swallowed a knot in my throat and forced a smile. “I know, but I needed to speak to you.” I made my voice louder. “You know you have no chance of winning against me. The voting will be soon, and as soon as it’s done, we’ll have that woman, Pepper. The Order will be able to leave, which is good because this town is running out of food.”

  Sherman eyed me suspiciously but moved to a chair and sat. He kicked off his boots and sighed. “It’s been a long day,” he said quietly. “All this magic practice is starting to wear on me.”

  I knew what he meant. I’d snuck off a few times to practice myself, but I felt like I kept butting up against a brick wall.

  Something had to change or I’d never be able to beat Lacy.

  I shoved that negative thought away. It wasn’t something I needed to focus on. At least not right now.

  “Sherman,” I said tentatively, “I was wondering if you might have something in your trunk for a headache.”

  It was the stupidest request, but I knew he would fall for it. Sherman lifted one of his boots and turned it upside down. A rock the size of a marble fell from it.

  “I got dragged face-first through the woods thanks to a spell gone wrong,” he explained. Sherman turned his other boot upside down, and another stone dropped to the floor.

  I smiled brightly. “At least you’ve been trying.”

  “Yeah,” he said noncommittally. “Do you think if I improve my magic, it’ll impress Amelia?”

  I paused. I wanted to say, of course it will, as long as you’re not a murderer.

  But the truth was, though I hadn’t spoken to my cousin about it, I had the feeling she resented the Order and everyone associated with it. If Sherman wanted to win her heart, he’d have to change his affiliation.

  This was worse than warring college football team rivalries. Southerners were famous for loving their college teams. Once you picked one, you never switched. You were born into your affiliation at birth. I wasn’t sure if the Order worked the same way.

  “Um, I don’t know, but I’ll put in a good word for you. How does that sound?”

  He grinned, looking very boyish. My heart lurched for him. He really seemed to adore Amelia, and let’s face it, Sherman was kind of a buffoon—in a good way.

  It was impossible for him to have killed his mother.

  He rose and stretched his arms way over his head. “All right. Let me see about something for that headache.”

  He easily lifted the trunk’s lid and started sorting through the pile of clothes and accessories. He pulled out a chess board, a toiletry bag, robes and finally found a small box. “This is powder for your headache. Mix one teaspoon with water. It should help. I could try to cure you with my magic, though, if you prefer.”

  I leaned back. “No thanks. I’m not interested in being dragged through camp.”

  He smiled sheepishly. “Can’t say I blame you.”

  I took the box with thanks and peered into the trunk, spying something the color of lead sticking out from beneath a crimson-colored sweater.

  I pointed to it shamelessly. “What’s that?”

  Sherman frowned. He picked up the clothes resting on it and set them on the floor. I knew what it was before Sherman had even plucked the object from the trunk and brought it into the light for me to see.

  A round object with bumps and craters sat in Sherman’s palm.

  I frowned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was a fire stone.”

  Sherman held my gaze. He studied me for a moment and then dropped the stone to the ground and ran.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I darted after Sherman, throwing open the tent flap and charging out.

  The camp was dark and full of twists and turns. Tents dotted the path. Sherman had spent days there. He knew the way better than me.

  I wanted to scream out, demand someone stop him, but I knew that was a mistake. What would Slug be doing charging after Sherman? How could I explain that we had been talking, that we had been in the same tent?

  Everyone knew Slug hated Sherman.

  I jumped over a cord and pushed myself on, pulling from the well of magic in my core. I felt the light unfurl, and m
y legs gained new strength, moving faster than humanly possible.

  But not impossible for a witch.

  Sherman reached the edge of the tents and was headed into a deeper part of the Cobweb Forest.

  If he ended up in there, I might lose him. But on the other hand, this forest was my friend. The trees had shown me things before—the future, to be exact.

  He headed in, and I dived after him.

  The lights from the camp quickly disappeared under the dark canopy. I opened my palm and wished I had made someone, anyone teach me a light spell.

  Crap. I’d have to learn it on the fly.

  I pictured an orb in my hand. My magic unwound, and next thing I knew, a ball of light danced in my palm.

  I tossed it out. The light buzzed and flew, darting through the trees until it found Sherman and whipped around him.

  Sherman swatted at the light. “Quit it!”

  “Sherman, stop,” I yelled.

  “No! You’ll never believe me!”

  “Why’d you do it? Why’d you kill your mother?”

  “That’s what I mean,” he yelled. “I didn’t kill her!”

  “Come back and explain it!”

  “No!” He dashed off again.

  But then he stopped and whipped around. Sherman raised his hand, and a dozen balls of light flitted above his head. The smirk on his face made my gut twist.

  “Sherman?” I said suspiciously.

  “It’s time for me to stop lying. I did it. I killed my mother so I could take her place in the Order.”

  My lower lip trembled. “You’ve played us for fools.”

  “Of course I have,” he sneered. “It was so easy. You want so much to be better than you are. Good luck. You’ll never be able to stop Lacy, especially now.”

  Sherman raised a hand.

  In that moment there were two things I knew. The first was that Sherman would shoot to kill. I had no doubt. One blast from him would end me.

  The second was that I was fairly certain that as much as Sherman knew, he wasn’t aware that some of the trees in the Cobweb Forest could move.

  Lastly—I know I said two things but it was really three—I didn’t want to kill Sherman. That was absolutely the very last thing I wanted.