Quit Your Witchin' (Bless Your Witch Book 4)

by Amy Boyles

  He spoke with a thick, raspy voice. “Roman, good to see you, my man. Glad you’re well.”

  “Thank you for meeting us.”

  The man turned to me. “And you must be Dylan.”

  “I am.”

  “Smiley Martin at your service.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Martin.”

  “Call me Smiley.” He grunted. “I heard your time as Queen Witch was very successful.”

  I laughed. Yes, no wars erupted during my term that lasted about two seconds. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  The man sat back to his chair and gestured for us to sit. “Don’t be modest, kid. You caught two of the bad guys in only a matter of days. Normally I wouldn’t be meeting with you, but since you’ve helped us out, I thought I’d help you out.”

  He chewed the end of the unlit cigar. “We need to be quick. Security sweeps this level every hour. We’ve got about twenty minutes before they do so again.”

  I frowned. “Oh. This isn’t your office?”

  He shook his head. “No. As far as this whole conversation goes, it never happened. I don’t exist to you, and you don’t exist to me.”

  “Got it.”

  Smiley leaned back in the chair. It squeaked under his weight. “Officially, Edgar Norwood left the witch police years ago. Unofficially, he’d been working on the magic-stealing ring for nearly two decades, trying to edge his way up the ranks.”

  He paused, glanced toward the hallway. “Everybody down.”

  We hunkered under the desk for a few seconds. Smiley peeked his head over the lip. “Thought I heard the guard. Guess it was a false alarm. Breaking into an office at night always makes me jumpy.”

  You think?

  We crawled out and resumed our seats. He yanked down the front of his shirt. The material stretched so far away from the buttons that it looked like they were about to pop off and fly across the room. With my luck one of them would hurdle into my eye. But the little round bits of plastic held the shirt together and stayed on. They must’ve been attached with superglue.

  He pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Tell me what happened with Norwood.”

  Roman explained Edgar’s surprise appearance to Boo along with the memory I pulled out of him.

  Smiley rubbed his eyes. He sighed, drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’ll be honest with you.” He paused. “Norwood went rogue. Started out as a good agent, one of the best. Then he got seduced by the magic-stealing side of things and we lost all contact with him. We’d been looking for him for years.”

  I stopped chewing the inside of my lip. “Is that why he never came out and named who killed Roman’s mother and sisters? ’Cause he went bad? From what I saw, he knew who did it.”

  Smiley nodded. “That’s probably a big part of it. Then after twenty years of staying silent, something happens—maybe guilt gets to him and Norwood decides he’s going to reveal what he knows, but gets killed before he can do that.”

  Smiley sighed.

  I felt bad for him, felt pain emanating off him. “You were close to Norwood?”

  “Before he turned, we were like brothers.” He puffed the unlit cigar. “Now he’s dead and we don’t know who did it. The killer was messy—which is good for us—dumping his body in the gym like that. Listen. I’ve got an agent in Silver Springs. Someone I want you to work with. Someone who could help you out.”

  I glanced at Roman. He frowned. “I’m not sure I want to bring anyone else into this.”

  Smiley folded his meaty hands. “It’s always good to get another opinion on things. We’ve got someone planted. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Couldn’t. Had to make sure it would be safe for them to work with someone else.” His gaze slewed from Roman to me. “Now, this person might not be the easiest to work with.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said. “Do they have a terrible attitude? Or smell bad?”

  “If they smelled bad, I’d consider it a blessing,” he said.

  This didn’t sound like it was going to turn out too good.

  “The reality is this person doesn’t have the best reputation. Used to be on the wrong side of things.”

  “How far on the wrong side?” Roman said.

  Smiley armed a trickle of sweat from his temple. “’Bout as far as you can go without going all the way.”

  “And how far is that?” Roman said. His jaw clenched.

  “Listen, I’m not going to sugarcoat things. You don’t have to like the agent, but you have to work together to get this thing solved.”

  Why did he keep saying the word agent and not the person’s name? My stomach pretzeled. I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

  “Who is this person?” I said.

  Smiley bit down on the cigar and cracked his knuckles. “You know, when I first started in this business, I had to partner up with the one guy in the whole department nobody wanted to work with. At first I hated him. Would’ve rather cut small slices in my arms and poured alcohol on them than work with this guy. That’s how much I hated him. But no matter what, I remained professional and got the job done.”

  “That’s great,” Roman said. “Makes my heart bleed for you. A name.”

  “I want you to keep an open mind.”

  “Who is it?” I hissed.

  As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew exactly what Smiley was going to say. He didn’t even have to say the name. I knew what evilness was going to come out of his mouth. As soon as he puckered up his lips, I cut him off.

  “Don’t tell me—”

  He thumbed his nose. “Agent Dewy Dewberry.”

  I threw up in my mouth.

  TWELVE

  “Dylan, you have to get up. You can’t stay in bed all day.”

  “Pretty sure I can.”

  Sera yanked the comforter off me. She thumped my forehead.

  “Ouch.”

  “You need to get up.”

  I pulled the comforter back down and turned over. “I can’t. It’s too awful.”

  “What is?”

  “Dewy Dewberry is a secret agent for the witch police.”

  A pause. Then I felt pressure as Sera sat on my bed. “What?”

  “She’s a good guy, Sera. And now she and Roman will be working together.”

  “I take it you’re worried.”

  “No,” I sniffled. “Of course not. I’m sure she won’t try anything awful or terrible or anything like that. I’m sure she’ll be a total peach.”

  “Roman told you not to worry about her.”

  I rubbed sleep from the corner of my eyes. “I know. He did, but I still don’t like her and I don’t trust her.”

  Sera tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “If she’s a good guy, why’d she try to get you thrown into witch jail?”

  I tossed strings of dirty hair from my face. “I don’t know. Why did she do that?”

  “You need to find out.”

  I pushed up off the bed. “I’ve been so worried about her and Roman working together I didn’t even think about that.”

  Sera handed me a stack of cakes from the side table. “Here. You can take her these while you’re at it.”

  “Did you bake all night?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I did these this morning.”

  The scent of lemon wafted up my nose. It smelled so good I was tempted to eat a slice for breakfast. “Stop worrying,” I said.

  “I’m not.” She shook her head. “I won’t.”

  “Whatever you say,” I said.

  I showered, dressed and lugged the cakes with me to Perfect Fit. I paced back and forth, watching Dewy’s store the entire time. Finally, I put the BE RIGHT BACK sign up and strode across the street with the confections. I secretly hoped they’d made her gain fifty pounds. That’s right, fifty. Why stop at ten?

  I knocked on the glass door. Half a second later Dewy answered. The witch was all smiles. She gest
ured for me to enter.

  “Dylan, I totally hope there aren’t any hard feelings about me calling the council on you. Mmm hmm.”

  “No. Of course not,” I lied. “In fact, I brought you some cakes to make up for it.”

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly. “Come in and see what I’ve done with the place.”

  I stepped into a crisp, white-cubicle-lined heaven. The layout of the boutique was New York chic with white vinyl benches, white cubbies with folded clothes, and gleaming white countertops. Whoa. It was a long way from the other rustic stores on Main Street.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I admitted.

  “Thank you.”

  Before I fell in love with the design and forgot why I was here, I turned to her. “Listen, you and I need to have a talk.”

  “Sure,” Dewy said. “Do you want to piggyback onto my grand opening? You know, run your own specials?”

  “No. That’s not what I mean. I mean the whole bad-vibe thing going on between us.”

  Her red lips puckered into an o shape. “I definitely don’t want there to be any bad vibes between us. We’re totally on the same team here. Even though you always seem to get away with things.”

  The passive-aggressive tone of her voice sent a jolt of anger through me. “That’s what I’m talking about. I might have gotten away with some things, but I’ve never done anything so bad as steal a baby unicorn.”

  The air chilled. I swear the room dropped thirty degrees. Dewy stared at me for a long moment before saying, “I paid for my crime. Like totally. You’ve never paid for anything. In fact, you did a truth serum on me and all you got was a stern talking-to. Not that I wanted you to go to prison, because I totally didn’t, at least not for that. If you hadn’t been at the jail, then you wouldn’t have met Smiley Martin, and if you hadn’t met him, you wouldn’t know that Roman is supposed to be my partner.”

  I rubbed my temples. “You had me arrested so that I would know from a reputable source that you’re supposed to be partnered up with Roman? That you’re witch police?”

  She nodded.

  Yeah, ’cause that was definitely easier than just telling me.

  My head spun from way too much information. “Okay, so why didn’t my spell work?”

  Dewy leaned close and whispered, “Must’ve been some magic dust I stole from that baby unicorn’s horn.”

  I gasped. Was she serious? Before I had time to ask, she continued.

  “And totally don’t worry about Roman.” She winked at me with long, fake lashes. “He’s in good hands with me. Great hands. Expert hands. When it comes to men, they just can’t resist my powers. I’m a seduce-tress—”

  “Seductress,” I corrected.

  I heard the door behind me swing open. I whirled around.

  Rick Beck stood in the door. His gaze cut from me to Dewy. From Dewy to me. “Um. Hey, ladies.”

  A sour taste melted over my mouth. “Hey, Rick. Great to see you,” I lied.

  Dewy smiled. “Hi, Rick. What can I do for you?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Um. Well. I was wondering, Dewy, if you needed any more help in the back. You know, with your shelving or anything.”

  Right. I’m sure he was talking about shelving. If shelving included getting Dewy naked, then I thought we were much closer to target.

  Not that I was judging or anything, and I certainly couldn’t read minds, but I could read human and Rick was uncomfortable as heck. And he knew that I knew that he and Reid had broken up. Now I knew the real reason.

  Dewy smiled. “Sure, Rick. I’ve got more work that needs to be done.”

  I backed toward the door.

  “Dylan,” she said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have a good day.”

  I let the door slam behind me.

  ***

  When I got home that night, Milly and Grandma were standing outside.

  “What are y’all doing?”

  Grandma grabbed me by the shoulders. “Dylan. Thank goodness you’re here.”

  “Something about that statement makes me want to walk away as quickly as I can.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Grandma said. “You’ve got perfect timing.”

  “For what?”

  “We’ve been trying to fix the shields on the house.”

  I cocked a brow. “Shields?”

  Grandma waved her arms. “Yes. You know, the shield that I had installed to keep us safe. The one that no one who wants to harm us can cross.”

  Right. I was well aware of that shield. It was one of the first spells I ever learned. It was a simple spell that kept folks who wanted to harm you out of your domain or room or house.

  Grandma studied the house. “Before the attack I had the shield set just inside the doorway. But now, we’re going bigger. I’m extending it to the sidewalk.”

  “So that it’s like a bubble protecting the house?”

  “Exactly,” Milly said. “A giant bubble no one can get through.”

  “What if they tunnel underneath?” I said.

  My paternal grandmother stroked her chin. “We need to consider that, Hazel. They may send some enchanted dogs to dig tunnels.”

  Grandma grabbed her head of triangle-shaped hair. “Good grief! What will we do then?”

  “How about we start raising cats so they can scratch out their eyes?” I suggested.

  “Not a bad idea,” Grandma said. “I’ll look into that.”

  I tapped my foot and pursed my lips. “Couldn’t we just cast a spell to see who wanted to do us harm? You know, like you taught me ages ago. Focus on who wants to harm us and whoever walks through the door first is the person who attacked.”

  Milly smiled. “You’re learning to be quite the witch. I’d nearly forgotten about that spell.”

  Pride ballooned in my chest. “Great. Let’s do it.”

  We went inside, my grandmother Hazel mumbling about a herd of cats. I hoped that idea didn’t stick in her head. The last thing we needed was a gazillion cats with a gazillion litter boxes that needed changing.

  “Dylan,” Milly said, “you remember how to work the spell?”

  I nodded. “Sure thing.”

  I focused on whoever wanted to hurt us. Pinpointed my magic and felt the spell swell within me. Magic swooshed outward, enveloping me in a bubble. Half a second later it burst, washing me with fizzy blue magic.

  I glanced at Milly. “What happened?”

  She shook her head. “Didn’t work. Someone’s already cast a counterspell cutting us off.”

  “Great. So there’s no way to know who attacked?”

  “Not that way, no.”

  “Okay,” I sighed. I felt pretty much done with this day. “I’m going to my room.”

  I washed my face and sank onto my bed. I pulled out my phone and dialed Roman. No answer. He was probably powwowing with Dewy about who the criminals were.

  Great. That wasn’t a hit to my ego or anything.

  Sera walked in. “Everything okay? I heard you tried to figure out who attacked us with a spell.”

  “Didn’t work. Now Grandma’s going to create an army of cats to protect us.”

  Sera nibbled on a croissant. “Want some?”

  “I’m really trying not to stress eat.”

  “I’ve turned to stress baking, so stress eating isn’t going to be too far away.”

  I groaned. “I don’t need to gain any weight. I may have to run for my life.”

  Reid popped in. “Why? Someone still trying to kill us?”

  “Pretty sure,” I said. “Until we figure out who it is.”

  “I may be able to enlighten this situation,” Reggie said.

  “You haven’t left yet?” I said.

  “Oh no. This situation has proved to be most interesting. I’m waiting to see who gets killed first. You or them.”

  “That’s so refreshing,” I said. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You’re welcome, Just Dylan.”

/>   Here we go again. “All right. Tell us what you’ve got.”

  “I’ve been searching some of the other registries, and I’ve uncovered a secret address for Edgar Norwood.”

  “No,” Sera said.

  “How can it be a secret if you found it?”

  Reggie flipped its pages to the right. “Because I was very sneaky in my investigation. The home isn’t tagged to Norwood specifically. Very difficult to find. I don’t believe the witch police know about it, either.”

  I rose. “So you don’t think anyone’s been there to search.”

  “I don’t, Just Dylan. I believe you’re the only ones who know.”

  I glanced at my sisters.

  “Should you call Roman?” Sera asked.

  “I just did. No answer.”

  Reid nibbled her bottom lip. “Where’s the house?”

  “In the hamlet known as Double Puddle.”

  “That’s only an hour from here,” I said, hopping off the bed.

  “Should you try Roman again?” Sera said.

  “I’ll call him on the way.” I picked up my purse. “Y’all coming?”

  Sera glanced at Reid. “We’re right behind you.”

  THIRTEEN

  We pulled into Edgar Norwood’s driveway about an hour later. My headlights illuminated a stone-colored cottage and the wedge of land that lay beyond. A creek cut off to one side, and the trees shot up thick around it. The place was a perfect retreat. In the summer no one would even know anyone lived out here, once leaves covered the branches of the oaks and poplars that abounded.

  “How are we going to get in?” Reid said.

  I shrugged “You got an idea, Reggie?”

  “He might have hidden a key somewhere around the entrance,” came the thick, velvet voice. “Or you can slip your hand through the door.”

  I nodded. “Let’s check first, because I’m not feeling the whole stick-my-hand-through-a-wall thing.”

  The three of us peeked under the pots on the porch.

  “Bingo,” Sera said, flashing a key. “Now we can get in. But what if there’s an alarm?”