Quit Your Witchin' (Bless Your Witch Book 4)

by Amy Boyles

  Roman stared at me as if waiting for the punch line. “And?”

  Heat crept up my neck. Now, I really felt stupid. “And today you’re over there and she’s dressed in a piece of paper—a see-through piece of paper, I might add.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m sorry that you think this is all so funny.”

  “I don’t,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

  “Pretty much coulda fooled me.”

  “Darlin’, whatever you think is going on between me and that thing across the street, you can stop it right now.”

  I perked up. “I can?”

  “Yes. There ain’t anything going on there.”

  “But the scarf. She seduces men.”

  He quirked a brow. “What are you talking about?”

  I huffed. “That’s her magic power, Roman.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I can see that.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled; then he crossed over and stroked my hair. “I know what Dewy does. I’ve been in this business a long time, remember? But you didn’t watch long enough. As soon as she tried that play on me, I pulled the scarf off.”

  “You did?”

  He wrapped a hand around my waist. “You think I’d jeopardize anything we have? Not a chance. Not for the likes of her.”

  I quirked a brow. “Does that mean you’d jeopardize it for the likes of someone else?”

  “Don’t twist things. Don’t make problems where they don’t exist.”

  I sucked in my cheeks. “Okay.” I smiled at him. He kissed the top of my head. “So. What were you doing over there when she just happened to be wearing next to nothing?”

  “I’m investigating a murder, if you remember.”

  “What? Do you think she did it?”

  Roman crossed to my desk and sat on the lip of it. “I don’t know.”

  I snapped my fingers. “It all makes sense. A new witch arrives. We find another one dead. The new witch was convicted of trying to kill a baby unicorn. She’s a bad, bad person. Let’s go arrest her.”

  Roman held up his hand. “Hold on there, cowboy. There’s not enough evidence yet.”

  “We don’t need evidence. We’ll get some.”

  He laughed. “I know you’re feeling a little vulnerable with a dress shop opening right across the street, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “Okay,” I grumbled. “But the dead guy, Edgar Norwood—we don’t know anything about him except he’s some random guy who likes to warn people they need to watch their backs.”

  “He’s not some random guy.”

  “He’s not?”

  “No. There’s a reason why he wasn’t listed in the registry.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, perking up.

  Roman crossed his arms. “Because he was undercover witch police. Whoever killed him murdered a cop.”

  EIGHT

  My jaw dropped “He was? Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

  Roman shrugged. “Because I like to keep some secrets for myself.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Because I needed to make some calls. Make sure my hunch was right.”

  “And it was?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Tell me more.”

  Roman glanced around the room.

  “The room’s not bugged. No one can hear us.”

  “I know.”

  I nibbled on the tip of my fingernail. “I won’t mention it to anyone.”

  He cocked his head.

  “Okay, not to anyone important.”

  “You can tell Sera and that’s all.”

  “Fine. I don’t know why you’re suddenly worried about me spilling information. You’ve told me things before.”

  “This is sensitive, Dylan. Someone’s close by, waiting and watching.”

  I glanced out the window. “Where’s your dad, by the way? Aren’t you worried about him?”

  “He’s at the station. I dropped him off before coming over here.”

  “So you’re keeping him well protected.”

  Roman flicked a speck of dirt from his duster. “As best I can without locking him up.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Edgar Norwood was an undercover agent for the witch police. That’s why his registry page was wiped. I figured as much.”

  I crossed to my coffee counter and started making a pot. “Why wipe his registry? Why not just make up a fake bio for him?”

  “Probably some lazy desk clerk didn't do their job right."

  “Okay, go on.”

  Roman shrugged out of his duster. He draped it across the desk and sat back down. “I contacted a high-ranking official and asked him what he could find out about Edgar. Turns out, the guy’s been deep undercover for years. Guess what he’s been doing?”

  My super amazing coffeepot finished burping and gurgling the last of the liquid. I poured a cup for both of us.

  “He’s been undercover trying to stop the magic-stealing ring.”

  “You got it.”

  I almost dropped my mug. “You’re kidding.”

  “No.”

  “So what would make him appear now? Why warn your dad?”

  Roman sipped the liquid. “He might have been about to surface. He may have finally figured out who the head honcho is and decided it was time to get out. But first, he wanted to tell my dad to be careful.”

  “Why?”

  Roman shrugged. “Loyalty, maybe? When my mom and sisters were murdered, there was an uproar in the community. People were angry and scared. They protested. Wanted to know who’d done it. Demanded justice for their queen.”

  “And they never got it,” I whispered.

  Roman’s eyes clouded. “They never did. But one day I’m going to give it to them.”

  I walked over and kissed his cheek. “You will.”

  He rubbed his thigh. “I hope so.” Roman handed me the cup. “I need to get going. I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay.” Lucky for Roman a thousand-watt idea simmered in my head. One that would wrap this whole investigation up in about five minutes.

  ***

  “We need to do the truth serum spell on Dewy,” I said to Sera several hours later.

  She glanced up from her book. “And you think this is a good idea why?”

  “Because she’s a wannabe baby unicorn killer.”

  “What?”

  I explained what Titus had told me.

  She tucked a strand of glossy dark hair behind one ear. “That’s pretty stout stuff, there.”

  “I know.”

  “So you think she murdered that dead guy because years ago she was caught about to cut off a unicorn’s horn.”

  “Seems like a logical step from A to B.”

  Sera laughed. “Dylan, I don’t think that’s a logical step. I think it is for you, but not for the rest of the world.”

  My cheeks flamed. “You don’t think that makes perfect sense?”

  “Not really. But because you’re my sister and I love you, I’ll help. But this one might backfire.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  Sera shut her book and rested it in her lap. “She’s strong, Dylan. And I don’t mean just her magic. Dewy seems to have some sort of fire burning inside her that gives her that edge—albeit a ditsy one. She’s trouble.”

  I sat down across from her. “So you’re scared.”

  She smirked. “I’m not scared. But it seems rash. Roman’s investigating. Let him do that.”

  “But he might need help.”

  “He’s a big boy, Dylan. Pretty sure he can take care of this himself. You know, this reminds me of the time I decided Mr. Porter the science teacher needed a puppy. Remember, when I was in sixth grade?”

  “Yes. It was so thoughtful.”

  Sera shook her head. “But it wasn’t thoughtful. The man was deathly allergic to animals. Their fur flared his asthma. But I wanted to get him a dog because
I thought he was lonely, so I got him a dog.”

  “You were so sweet.”

  “You’re not listening, are you?” she said.

  “Not really.”

  Sera glared at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’m listening. Butt out. That’s your sage advice.”

  “It is.”

  “Is there any way I could get you to change your mind?”

  “No.”

  A crash came from the other side of the house. It shook the walls and rattled the furniture. I flashed Sera an oh-crap look before flying out the door.

  I ran into the living. “What’s going on?”

  I came to a sliding stop.

  In the doorway stood a hooded figure. The cowl of his robe was pulled down so far I couldn’t see his face. For that matter, I couldn’t actually tell if it was a man or woman, but referring to it as a man just seemed to fit.

  Grandma stood in the center of the living room. Her hand was raised. “You will not come in here.”

  The figure lifted his palm. Black threads of magic streamed toward Grandma. She met his magic with her own pink rays. The streams tangled together.

  Bits of magic flew out, smashing into lamps, mirrors, pictures. Glass shattered all around.

  Nan appeared from the kitchen. She had a spear in her hand. That’s right. A spear. With a sharp metal tip and all. She flung it at the figure. He lifted his free hand, and the spear fell to the floor.

  Nan sprang toward him. He wrapped her in a cocoon of power, essentially bubble-packing her. Nan kicked. “I’ll have your head!” She stretched and squirmed, but the bubble held her fast.

  “Get out of my house,” Grandma yelled.

  The figure’s magic shredded into hers. It was pushing back on Grandma, gaining on her.

  I lifted my hand and shot a surge of power at the figure. It knocked him into the doorjamb. He looked in my direction and started to raise a hand toward me.

  Another hooded figure appeared behind the first one. This one focused completely on me, sending a stream of magic flooding in my direction. I created a shield, but it was no match for the power bearing down on me. It started to collapse.

  Sera sprang up from behind me. She focused her power, strengthening my shield. The moment gave me a chance to glance at Grandma. She still held her own, but none of us were getting anywhere. We were all pushing, but no one was gaining. We needed help.

  I glanced at the giant mirror over the buffet.

  “Sera, can you hold the shield?”

  Sweat ran down her temple. “I’ll try.”

  I pivoted toward the mirror and aimed. The structure lifted from the wall, hovering in the air for half a second before crashing down on the hooded figures, knocking them back.

  Everything stopped.

  I paused, heaved a huge breath. I nodded to Sera and sprang forward. She followed.

  “Dylan, wait,” Grandma yelled.

  There was no time to wait or think. Our lives were clearly in danger. If I gave those two a moment to recover, we’d be dead by the time they stood up.

  I bolted through the door and into the cold night. Shattered glass lay scattered over the ground. The figures were nowhere to be seen. They’d vanished.

  My breath turned to steam in the night air. I gulped down some oxygen and collapsed to my knees, my body shaking.

  My grandmother laid a hand on my shoulder. “You showed courage, Dylan.”

  “So did you.”

  Sera and Reid walked up beside me. Reid carried a massive wok in her arms.

  “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “I was ready to step in if you needed me.”

  I flashed her a weak smile. “Thanks.” I looked up at Sera. “Is your mind changed about the truth spell?”

  A grim frown spread over her face. “I think it is.”

  ***

  Witch police crawled all over the house. I’d wanted to keep the attack a secret, but Roman wouldn’t allow it.

  Inspectors combed through everything, looking for clues as to who attacked us.

  “You didn’t see their faces?” Roman asked.

  “No. Their hoods were pulled down too far and they never spoke. They only attacked.”

  Roman nodded to a young witch policeman who was jotting down notes.

  “Well, I see the Apel family is up to mischief once again.”

  I groaned. I knew the voice all too well.

  Jonathan Pearbottom, Inspector not extraordinaire, threw one side of his tweed cape over a shoulder. His parrot nose looked particularly parrot-ish in the moonlight.

  “Good to see you too, Inspector.”

  He gave me curt grin. “It was only a matter of time before someone decided to end your life in a spectacular way. I’m surprised this attack didn’t come sooner.”

  “I’m surprised a baboon doesn’t live up your rear end,” I said.

  Roman snickered.

  “What was that?” Pearbottom said.

  “Nothing. Believe it or not, I haven’t gone around angering witches. At least not that I know of.”

  Pearbottom looked at Roman. “We’ve swept the area, but the witches were good. Left no traces of themselves or their power. My men will clear out and leave this in your hands. We’ll be in touch.”

  Roman nodded. “Thanks, Jonathan.”

  The inspector smirked. “Hopefully this was a one-time occurrence and we won’t be called in again.” He yanked on his bowler hat and walked away.

  Roman turned to me, hands fisted on his hips. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I rubbed a knot on my shoulder. “Fine. Nothing a shot of rubbing alcohol can’t fix.”

  “Very funny.”

  “A girl’s gotta try.”

  Roman glanced down the street. “Once we erase the neighbor’s memories, I’ll station either myself or someone else outside. I’ll watch the house as much as I can.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” I pressed my palm to the center of his chest and quivered at the heat wafting off him.

  “Yes, I do. Someone tried to kill you.”

  I smiled feebly. “We don’t know that. They might have just been saying hi.”

  He frowned. “Don’t joke.”

  “Okay. Fine. It’s how I cope with stress.”

  He wrapped me in a bear hug made of chiseled muscle and said, “I know. It’ll be okay.”

  I melted into Roman and sighed. For once I had a hard time believing him.

  ***

  It was business as usual the next day. I went to work early and had a few out-of-town customers who’d heard about the store and had decided to make a day trip to Silver Springs. I sold some garments, made some money.

  Usually that was enough to put me in good spirits. Today, however, it wasn’t.

  The bell above the door tinkled.

  “Welcome to Perfect Fit,” I said. “How can I help you?”

  “Well, hello, Miss Dylan.” Richard Bane tossed me a worn, tired smile. He shuffled across the floor in heavy-booted feet.

  “Boo, what brings you to town? Is Roman with you?”

  He shook his head and sank down into a chair. He palmed a face sagging with worry.

  “Let me make you some coffee,” I said.

  “That’ll be just fine.”

  I revved up the percolator and poured two cups. “Where’s Roman?” I said, handing him a steaming mug.

  “At the station doing some work.” His green eyes matched Roman’s. Though Boo had a few more crinkle lines in the corners, but there was no doubt who Roman had inherited his eyes from.

  I sighed. “You heard about last night.”

  He tipped the cowboy hat on his head. When we found Boo, he was wearing a raccoon fur hat. Since we’d transitioned him from the wilderness, he’d taken to donning one of the cowboy variety. With his long beard and slow-talking ways, I’d say it suited him.

  “I didn’t mean to bring this trouble to you.”

  I pinched my brows toge
ther. “This isn’t your fault.”

  He set the cup down and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m afraid it is. I should’ve stayed well enough hidden. I’d been out in the wilderness so long, I don’t know what drew me back.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe you have a story to tell and you wanted to let us know.”

  He pulled out a pocketknife and started cleaning the undersides of his fingernails. “You’d be mistaken if you think I haven’t thought about the night Roman’s mother was killed every day since I’ve been back. Not one hour has passed that Catherine’s image doesn’t drift into my mind.” He stopped. “Almost seems unbelievable that when you found me, I couldn’t even remember the night she was killed.”

  I sipped my coffee. “Sometimes the mind works to protect us. Shuts down certain memories so we can go on, keep living.”

  “I’ve considered that and it seems reasonable, but I don’t think that’s it. There’s a memory floating in my mind, one just under the surface. One I need to get rid of.”

  I flexed my fingers. I could tell this was going to be good. “What is it?”

  “It’s another memory of Edgar. You see I’d met him before that day here. I know it.” Boo finished up with his fingernails, folded the blade and slid the knife into his back pocket. He stroked his beard in thought. “I want to say he’s the man who made my memory go away.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Boo shook his head. “Now that, I can’t figure out. That’s why I need you to find that memory.”

  “Me?” I laughed. “There are other witches out there more capable than me.”

  Boo gave me a slow, thoughtful smile. “Ah, yes there are. But you like to know things, Dylan Apel. You like to know a lot of things.”

  “You mean I’m nosy.”

  He smiled. The lines etching his cheeks deepened. “I’m a gentleman. I say things a bit nicer than that.”

  I chuckled. “You got me there. What makes you think I can do it?”

  “You defeated two witches last night. I’m pretty sure you can smuggle a memory from my head.”

  There really was nothing for me to decide on this. Boo had information. I needed to know things. Simple as that. “When do you want to do it?”