The Kitchen Witch Switch

by Dawn Montgomery

  I drag in a breath and remind myself that the only thing he knows about me is what my family didn’t say and the way my sister bailed on this family.

  “I understand your concerns. I’m not sure what kind of impression my sister left you, but I assure you, I never take a job I can’t finish.” His words cut deep into my pride.

  “The Baba Yaga and I have come to an agreement to help your nephew. Please understand, I’m not interested in using your family. Once the job is done, I will return to the normal, non-magic world, and you will never see me again.” My smile grows wide at the surprise twisting his expression.

  A cough draws my attention and I see Bianca’s face before she lowers her head.

  “They’re waiting for you both.”

  Her body language tells me she’s being extremely cautious. I wonder why. I mentally shake my head. None of this stuff is my business. I just need to get through this, solve the problem, if possible, and get back to my non-magical life.

  I walk past him and continue back the way I came entering a lovely formal dining room. An elegant woman with a beautiful smile welcomes me from her position at the head of the table. Brandon rises and pulls out a chair next to him for me to sit. I do so quickly so I can get this over with.

  “Thank you for having me.” What kind of job requires me to meet the family of the curse victim? My sister owes me big time for this one.

  “Thank you for coming today. Brandon has told me why he's brought you here.” She gestures toward the full table. “Are you sure you're willing to see his curse today? We will take every precaution, but you must know how dangerous this can be for you.”

  So he decided to show me the curse after all. Good. “I have years of experience in facing curses. I'm willing to give it a try.”

  “Mother I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Brandon’s uncle leans over and gives her a kiss on her cheek as she tilts her head to receive it.

  “This is Brandon’s decision. Are you sure?” She looks from me to him. Brandon nods his head slightly then eyes his uncle as he sits.

  My work mentality kicks in. This isn't the first time I've had to reassure a client. Besides, the only way I'll know if I can help is to endure it in the first place.

  “I've been told this is a difficult case, so the sooner we can get started, the faster we can find a solution.” My hand still tingles from the uncle's touch earlier, and if he's anywhere near as annoying as Mel, he'll try something else later to see if I really am immune to magic. Of course it's ridiculous to think everyone acts the way my sister does, but I can't help but worry.

  “That's a reassuring attitude.” She gestures and food is served in front of Brandon. I see a few delicious dishes, but his expression reminds me of a statue. No joy or warmth touches his face. I let my interlocked fingers fall to my lap, tapping my thumbs together, hoping to keep the butterflies in my stomach under control.

  “Is it okay to ask questions as we go?”

  “Please do. We'll answer what we can.”

  “If this curse is so dangerous, why are you all here?” The moment I ask the question, I realize I've made some type of mistake. Brandon locks gazes with me and I realize he's angry. Did I say something wrong?

  5

  Meghan

  “We have defenses in place.” Viktor sits down and opens a container on the table.

  He removes something and places it down. It's a flat purple stone, roughly the size of a face compact and encased in delicate filigree. From it a cloud of smoke rises, forming a hazy barrier over the table. I reach out to touch it and my hand passes right through. I lean closer to Brandon. “What is this supposed to do?”

  “It prevents the curse from leaving the table. My grandmother has anti-curse amulets and spells on her. And Bianca will protect her as well.”

  I notice the girl's smile and wink as she steps up to place a hand on the matriarch's shoulder. A glow forms around them, then disperses. I never really noticed how flashy this witchcraft stuff was. Maybe my twin sister was really bad at it or something, but her spells usually triggered sparks.

  “Are you sure you won't take any extra precautions?” Brandon's uncle asks in a polite manner. “I would hate to see something unfortunate happen because of stubborn pride.”

  “The Baba Yaga has assured me that she is immune. She would not risk her life.” Mrs. Devlin watches me as she speaks. I can feel the weight of her judgement, but I don't mind. If they're taking this level of precaution, I should be concerned, as well.

  “We won't know until we try. So, how does it work?” I turn slightly in my chair to face Brandon. His hand is clenched in a fist on the table, tension radiating from his body. I lean close to murmur quietly. “Why don't we swap places so that you're further away from your grandmother?”

  He glances at me with relief. We do a quick swap as he and I both grab the dishes, moving down the table to the other end.

  “There's better lighting for me this way,” I offer the group by way of explanation.

  Smiling calmly at his grandmother, I sit with my ribs pressed to the edge of the table. The moment Brandon sits down, tensions in the room intensify. The chill of something magic-related and annoying scrapes down my spine.

  Certain magic sets my teeth on edge and this is one of the most powerful reactions I've faced.

  “Are you okay?” He asks and the strange sensation stops.

  “Nothing has happened yet, right?” Viktor asks.

  Brandon and I look at his uncle. Did he not sense the curse growing?

  I stare back at Brandon and give him a nod. “Take it slow so I don't miss anything. I'd rather make sure than to be wrong about my immunity.”

  “No problem,” he says as sweat beads his forehead. He puts his hand on the plate and that intense chill digs into me again. The food on the plate discolors, turning dark black and rigid, crystallizing in front of me.

  I draw in a breath and lean a little closer. What is this? The darkness spreads to the plate, coating it and changing its chemical structure. “Does this happen to the food you eat? I mean, does it change when it gets inside your stomach?”

  His gaze remains on the plate and I wonder if I should interrupt his concentration. A glance around the room shows intense fear and tension in the body language and barely controlled expressions. The uncle looks especially uncomfortable and has moved his protection stone closer to Mrs. Devlin.

  “Sometimes it will change when I pick it up.”

  I pick up a fork and lean close to the smoke barrier over the table. “Is it edible?” I push through the barrier and a hand suddenly snatches my wrist.

  “Don't do that.”

  “Brandon,” his grandmother cries out in shock and we both look down at my wrist. He tries to let me go, but dark crystal forms over my skin, forcing us to remain bound.

  The skin tingles where he touches me. My teeth clench as the cold sensation settles deep inside my chest and stomach. My skin feels fine, but my insides ache with the bitter bone-deep chill. I shudder under its pressure. “This is the part I hate,” I say to him.

  “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you.”

  “Relax.” I flick my gaze up and catch his horrified expression. “You're not hurting me,” I mutter through chattering teeth.

  I mean, it’s true. His touch isn’t hurting me, but that curse is ripping me apart from inside. Right now, I'd give anything for my suit jacket back so I could fight off this chill. “This is n-nothing.” I smirk as the icy cold in my stomach churns into something warmer and less intense.

  “C-could you turn up the heat for a m-moment?” I force the question out as the last of the frigid ache leaves my stomach. Heat bursts around me.

  “Not that intense, you'll send her into shock,” Brandon yells and pulls me into his arms. Another, warmer blanket of magic surrounds me and soaks into my skin.

  “What's happening to her? Her arm should have broken off by now,” Viktor's voice shocks me.

  “F-five
minutes.” I force out the words as my body continues going through the process of doing what it always does when I’m consuming a curse.

  I watch as the plate shatters, darkness spreading across the table. I stare into Brandon's eyes, lifting my hand to his cheek. His fearful, worried gaze is something I can address while we wait.

  “F-focus. I'm okay. Just c-cold.” I pat his face slightly and he blinks at me in surprise. “Focus.” I tilt my chin toward the table and he immediately realizes what's happening.

  Tension rumbles through him, tightening his chest and arms. I watch the crystalline formations slow to a crawl. The sweat on his brow tells me how hard this is for him. “Grandmother,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.

  In an instant, smoke surrounds us and we're wrenched to another room.

  Several people rush toward us, but he holds me tighter. “Get the Baba Yaga here. And the doctor,” he demands and they start moving. “Bring me warm blankets and prepare a warm bath.” He looks down at me and I can see pain in his expression. “You're going to be okay.”

  Of course I am. I want to say it, but the words won't come out. How do I explain to him that my body has already started breaking down the crystals on my wrist? There is no pain, no ache. It will take time to warm the frigid core inside of me, no magical intervention necessary.

  With a calmness I was good at faking, I gently pry his fingers off my wrist. The moment he lets go, I'm able to finally loosen my grip on the fork and let it fall to the plush carpet beneath us.

  With trembling fingers, I brush the crystals on my wrist and they splinter and fall away. “I t-told you. I'm f-fine.”

  His eyes widen and he stares at me in shock. “Gloves,” he demands, yelling it loud enough to shock me.

  Someone hands him dark gloves and he shoves them on. his gaze locks onto mine. “How is this fine?” He holds up my wrist and I see slight discoloration on the skin.

  The warmth inside my stomach soothes the desperate chill and trembling of my limbs. I sigh with both relief and resignation. Relief that it's over and resignation that my muscles will be sore from the violent trembling they faced.

  “It will disappear soon.” If it goes the way most of the other curses did, the tingling will fade in about twelve hours and then his curse won't affect me again. It’s my hope that I don’t have to do this ever again.

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Anger rushes to my head. “I wanted to know what it did to the food.”

  “Who in their right mind sticks their hands in an active curse? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” His voice matches mine in anger and I find myself glaring up at him.

  “The sooner we figure out what's wrong with you, the faster I can go home.”

  “Oh, you're definitely going home.” His jaw clenches and unclenches, showing a fascinating pulse along that finely carved line. “You're no longer needed here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  His angry expression doesn't waver.

  “Grandmother, when Baba Yaga arrives, let her know that we no longer need the contract. Have her checked out by our physician, then compensate Ms. Stiles for her time and send her home. I don't need her death on my hands.” With that, he strides away, slamming the door as he leaves the room.

  A strange scent wafts up from my skin. I sniff my wrist delicately, noticing a bittersweet aroma lingering where the curse had touched. What a horrible thing to live with.

  “Well, that was exciting,” I say to the others in the room.

  I draw in a slow breath and look at the matriarch. Instead of anger on her face, I see amusement.

  “You're not going to yell at me for being reckless?”

  She blinks slowly and shakes her head gently. “No, but I hope you'll answer some of my questions.”

  She gestures behind me and I see a chair appear out of thin air. Magic. Convenient in one aspect and nightmarish in another. With gratitude, I sink into the soft cushion.

  “Why did you reach into the shield?”

  “I wanted to see the properties of the food after it changed. I didn't think about the curse being active or anything like that.” I shrug. “I mean, I was chosen because I'm immune to things like that.”

  “Things like curses? You mean all curses?”

  “I have a unique ability. My body eats curses and breaks them down.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of this ability?”

  I hold out my hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s not practical. I'm not a witch. I'm a problem-solver who has been stuck unraveling witch-related problems my entire life. My twin sister signed us up to help your family with this curse and I can't go home until it's finished.”

  Mrs. Devlin reclines slightly in her chair as she considers my words. At that moment, the door opens and a petite woman in a medical coat strides in. “Show me the miracle wrist,” she demands and snatches my hand before I can react.

  Warmth infuses my skin almost immediately, but the tingling lingers. She makes a few contemplative noises and I raise my eyebrows. “It hasn't moved at all,” the tiny woman mutters.

  “What hasn't?”

  “The curse mark.” She runs her fingers over my skin and I realize she's wearing a set of soft gloves that make my skin tingle. It must be spelled against something or cause a magic effect.

  “It will go away soon.”

  “That's impossible,” she says as she starts using different instruments against my skin. The tools appear out of nowhere so I assume it's one of those super rare but really convenient void bags.

  Warmth further builds from within me and fatigue weighs me down. It looks like I’ll have to take his curse again. I’m already too tired to analyze it properly.

  A soft gasp draws my attention and I take in her shocked expression. My sleepy gaze catches movement near the door and I see Brandon hovering there, concern etched deep in his brow. I've always been good at reading people, but this guy takes brooding to a whole new level.

  “What's wrong with her?”

  I smirk at him and get a smoldering glare in return. “Tell him the good news.”

  “The curse really is fading. There will be no lasting damage. If anything...” she trails off and my smile widens.

  “The more I'm exposed to your curse, the less it will affect me.” I stifle a yawn and settle back comfortably in the overstuffed chair. My consciousness fades out slightly.

  “Why is she like this?” His voice jars me awake. He's close enough that I can make out the blonde tips on his long eyelashes.

  “Metabolism,” I mutter. “When I wake up, I'll be hungry enough to eat a house. Your curse takes a lot of energy.” I smile at him and wave a hand. “Next time, you won't hurt me.”

  Probably. I mean, I couldn’t do much but absorb it this time. It might take one or two tries, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate knowing that. I could sleep for a week. Maybe a month.

  “There won't be a next time.”

  He can't make me leave. Not now. Not that I know how dangerous this really is for him. I force my eyes open one last time and make my mouth work.

  “I help. You live. I leave. You die. There is no choice. Now let me sleep.”

  6

  Brandon

  “Sir, you have to let us get to her.” Bianca's voice breaks through my panic and I realize I'm holding her in my arms.

  “She needs a full exam,” Dr. Kale, a white witch the Academy sent over as soon as the Baba Yaga was called, hovers near her. “I've never seen anything like this. Where did you find her?” Dr. Kale is fully dressed in anti-curse gear, complete with the golden shield of protection she excels at. “Let us take her.”

  I let them pull her free, fighting my instincts to keep her close to me. My heart throbs and anger pounds in my skull. Why did she do that? Doesn't she understand how dangerous my curse is?

  Her deep breaths tell me she's still alive, but what if the curse spreads? My curse crystallizes organic matter, encasing it completely
. I rub my hand over my face and stare at the discoloration on her wrist. When the crystal formed on her skin, my heart froze.

  “Place her in the guest room we've prepared for her,” Grandmother says. She glances at me and I start to follow them.

  “Why would she put her hand in the curse? Is she insane?” My uncle's ragged voice pierces the panic in my heart, deflating it and leaving a path for logic to break through.

  “Viktor,” my grandmother's voice cuts through.

  “I cannot ignore this, mother. You know how serious this is.”

  “I know you’re worried, Uncle Viktor, but she’s fine and so I am. I’m sorry we can’t continue with our family meal today.” I focus on keeping calm.

  He gestures toward Meghan. “Do you really want to risk her life?”

  Our butler, Theodore comes to the bed.

  “Mrs. Devlin, we need to take action. You saw what happened when the young Master touched her. We should burn her now so she can't infect us. I can take care of it.”

  I jerk my attention to a man I’ve trusted for most of my life. “Did you just suggest we kill her to prevent the spread of my curse?”

  “It’s the safest thing to do. The history of the curse is well-documented and it wouldn’t the first time—”

  “Enough.” Rage rolls through me, burning from my gut to my mind in a fiery path fueled by the threat against her. I hurt her once, and I'll be damned if I let anyone else in this family cause her pain.

  “You will do no such thing. This is still my house and I am still the heir to this family. If you are worried about your own skin, you are welcome to find work elsewhere.”

  I catch the whispered words of a spell and cast a silence on him. He jerks back in shock as I stride toward him, reaching out to put distance between him and Meghan. He dashes away from me in panic, fear tinged with disgust distorting his face. Yes, this is the expected expression. Everyone, except my grandmother, has worn that expression when facing me.