Don't Give a Witch (Bless Your Witch Book Six)

by Amy Boyles

  I prayed it was enough time.

  “Stop fighting,” she yelled. “This would be easier if you conceded to me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why do bad guys always say things like that? They think we’re just going to lie down and die? Not today.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  She pushed a wave of power toward me. The force broke my shield, cracking the magic open. The shock of the blast threw me back. I slid along the floor and slammed into the jagged wall. A sharp pain ratcheted up my spine.

  If I lived through this, I’d have a massive bruise; I could tell you that for sure.

  “See, Dylan? Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give in?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Gladiolas, my friend and mentor, slowly approached. “I once considered you a friend.”

  “Hate to know who you consider an enemy.”

  She smiled. “Good-bye, Dylan.”

  She lifted her hands. A dark shadow rose behind her. I could make out the definite shape of a head and shoulders; the rest of it was simply a formless block. As it grew, it seemed to suck the remaining color from the room, pulling all the black hue with it.

  “Good-bye,” I whispered.

  The shadow moved with a hiss toward Gladiolas. It tossed her into the air. Gladiolas screamed. The dark demon shook the witch like a dog, with a violence I didn’t care to watch. I shielded my eyes until I heard a crack that sent a sick wave ripping through my gut.

  When I opened my eyes, the shadow was gone and Gladiolas lay on the ground. Her crumpled form was twisted and bent in ways that weren’t humanly possible. At least not when the human form was alive.

  Gladiolas stared at the world with sightless, vacant eyes.

  The Master was finally, utterly dead.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Gladiolas’s death broke the sleeping spell on the castle, which was a good thing since I had no clue how to dissolve it on my own. Roman found me in the hallway. He scooped me up in a huge bear hug and kissed me.

  “Wow,” I said, panting when we parted. “What was that for?”

  “I missed you,” he said.

  “I missed you more,” I replied.

  He cocked his head. “I doubt it.”

  I pulled a voice recorder from my pocket and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he said.

  A sad smile crept over my face. “Everything you’ve ever wanted to know.”

  I’d recorded my conversation with Gladiolas mainly because I didn’t know if I would survive my encounter with her, and also because I’d needed proof. It wasn’t anything for me to accuse her if she wasn’t going to admit it. Luckily, like most homicidal maniacs, she enjoyed talking about her exploits.

  Roman started the recorder. His shoulders bent forward. I wrapped a hand around him. “Let’s get you someplace private.”

  I took him to his room where he listened to the rest of the recording. He endured a world of emotions in the few minutes it took to play back everything Gladiolas had admitted to.

  “I never would have guessed it,” he said.

  “I know. Me neither.”

  He scrubbed a palm down a face that was drawn up in thought. “Where is she?”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  I showed him the other room. Roman called Jonathan Pearbottom in, and they swept the area clean. Since Boo Bane had nothing to do with Catherine’s murder, Pearbottom released him from custody.

  Meanwhile, Grandma and Chasity worked to add up all the scores of the Magical Abilities contest. All the contestants, as well as the audience, met up in the theater once all the murder commotion died down.

  So it was the next day.

  Grandma stood on the stage, her flowing white cardigan fluttering around her calves. “Thank you all for coming for this small announcement. With the scores added, the winner of the Magical Abilities contest as well as the vial of Never Forget is”—she unfolded a slim slice of paper—“Reid Apel for her original and frightening take on overcoming her fears of a math exam!”

  The crowd applauded. I couldn’t help but be proud for my sister.

  Sera leaned over. “Must’ve been a really nasty math test.”

  “I hear it was,” I mumbled.

  “I thought for sure you’d win,” she said.

  I didn’t say anything, but the truth was that I had won. I told Grandma and Chasity to give it to the next in line. I had all I needed in my life, especially since my two grandmothers had tested their own Never Forget on me. I didn’t require anything more.

  Reid plumped her burgundy curls as she accepted her trophy. The audience cheered on, clearly happy that the best witch had won.

  I was glad to be getting out of Castle Witch. I’d had enough drama for one week.

  A few minutes later, after everyone had poured out of the theater, Roman sidled up to me. He slid his sunglasses up onto his crown.

  “Did Pearbottom confess?”

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sure did. All I had to do was give him an evil look and he broke open.”

  I chuckled. “You contact Clothar?”

  Roman nodded. “Yep. He insisted we remove the rest of the magical Damascus steel from the castle, so we did.”

  I frowned. “Nan just made a new sword. Can she keep it?”

  “As long as it doesn’t stay in Castle Witch, she can have it.”

  I scratched a place behind my ear. “What about Henrietta? Has she been freed?”

  He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “Released yesterday. To keep her away from her mother, Jonathan Pearbottom said she could stay with him for a while.”

  I quirked a brow. “Really? Is Eliza okay with that?”

  Roman smiled. “They’re both glad to have her. She’s a nice girl, sweet and kind. It’s her mother who’s awful.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s getting away from her.”

  “Me too.”

  I glanced around the gardens, noting the beauty that surrounded us. “And what about you? Are you okay?”

  Roman shrugged. “I’m getting better. I’m angry, and I feel betrayed beyond anything I can express, that someone so close to my family would do that—tear us apart like that. I trusted Gladiolas, I relied on her, and all along she’d been the one who caused us so much pain in the first place.”

  I squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “It is what it is.” He glanced down at me and smiled. “Darlin’, are you ready to get out of here?”

  I snaked a hand around his waist. “More than I can say.”

  We arrived back in Silver Springs at approximately the same time and day that we left it. I had to say, for as much as Castle Witch annoyed me, there was something to the fact that time worked differently there.

  It certainly made life convenient.

  That night my family relaxed in the living room. Grandma was watching Wheel of Fortune while my sisters, Nan and I enjoyed a good old-fashioned blood-filled game of Monopoly.

  Kidding about the old-fashioned part.

  “So I think we should do something to help new witches,” I said.

  Sera rolled the dice. “This again?”

  “Yeah. Don’t you think we should use our powers for good? Help new witches so that they don’t end up on the dark side?”

  Reid stroked her trophy. That girl hadn’t parted with the thing since she’d won it. “How will we do that, exactly? It’s not like we know when a new witch comes into her powers.”

  “I could help with that,” Grandma said. “There are plenty of spells that will lead a new witch here.”

  “I don’t know,” Sera said. “I’m not convinced.”

  “Then how about you think on it a little while?” I suggested. “We could do real good. Use our magic to help people.”

  “Aren’t all the bad people gone?” Reid said. “We’ve gotten rid of a good part of the magic stealers
.”

  Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “My dear, you can never get rid of evil entirely. It always exists in one form or another.”

  Sera moved the horse a few squares and paused. Her blue eyes settled on me. “So how do you want to do this? How do we acquire clients?”

  A wicked smile spread over my face. “Easy. We put an ad in the paper.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Turn the lights off,” I hissed. “Hurry! She’s coming!”

  Sera flipped the lights, and I huddled down behind the couch. The front door squeaked open. Feet padded across the wooden floor.

  Sera flipped the lights again.

  I jumped up from behind the couch. “Surprise!”

  In the middle of the room stood Reid, lips locked with Taylor Cobblestone.

  “Happy birthday,” the room yelled in unison.

  “Happy birthday,” I said, sounding like the bad end of an accordion.

  Reid smiled. “Thanks, everybody! Meet my new boyfriend, Taylor!”

  Taylor gave a sheepish wave.

  Not sure how I felt about that.

  Grandma hit an app on my phone, music started up and everyone moved in to congratulate Reid on nineteen years.

  All our friends had come. Boo Bane looked the most rested I’d seen him in months. He wore a crisp new shirt and had on his usual cowboy hat. He had an easy smile on his face and had braided his long silvery beard just for the occasion.

  Titus, the unicorn king, had brought baby Adonis to see Reid. For once, Adonis didn’t kick any of our furniture, which was a relief, let me tell you.

  Em came and so did Chasity. Of course, Jonathan Pearbottom and Eliza had come after finally getting to celebrate a few days of their honeymoon. They’d even brought Henrietta, who didn’t look so horrible anymore. Her hair was washed and swept away from her pretty face.

  Sera whispered something to Brock, the monkey king. He smiled and kissed her cheek. She sidled over to me.

  My sister wrapped one tan arm over the over. “I guess neither of us saw it coming,” she said, nodding toward Taylor.

  “No, I guess not, but stranger things have happened.”

  “I don’t think so,” she joked.

  I smiled. “As long as she’s happy, I’m good with that. Besides, I think he might actually be kind of normal in a weird sort of way.”

  We both watched as Taylor squeezed the back of Reid’s neck tenderly. “He seems to care about her,” Sera said.

  I shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  Sera drifted back over to Brock.

  The party kicked off with food being served, presents being handed over and merriment abounding. I mean, I don’t know if the whole merriment thing is true, but it looked that way to me.

  I felt Roman’s arm coil around my waist. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said.

  I glanced up into his sea-green eyes. “Hey, yourself.”

  “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  Roman took my hand and led me into the backyard. “I thought we were going for a walk.”

  He scowled. “We are. We’re going through the back.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  He guided me through the gate into our next-door neighbor’s yard. A ring of white lights had been strung up in one corner. Roman led me toward them.

  I laughed nervously. “Should we be back here?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m the police.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve already cleared this whole thing.”

  A smile curled on his lips. “You got it, darlin’.”

  “Care to tell me how?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “I bought it.”

  I stopped. “You bought it?”

  He nodded. “For you. To give you more space.”

  I cocked my head. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “I’ll explain. For now, just follow me.”

  I leaned into his arm, basking in the musky pine scent that tickled my nose. We reached the little grove of lights. Roman whirled me toward him and kissed me. I melted into his chest.

  After several moments we parted. Roman bent down to one knee. He pulled what looked like a little box from his pocket and opened it.

  “Wow. That’s a beautiful ring,” I said.

  Wait.

  Ring.

  Box.

  Oh my gosh! What was happening?

  “Dylan,” Roman said, “I knew from the first moment I met you that I wanted to be together. You are the half of me that I’ve been missing, the half that sees the world through a filter of joy when I often see the bad. I want you to be beside me for the rest of my life.”

  I stared at the ring and then at Roman. Then he said the words I knew were coming next.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Thanks, y’all!

  I cannot thank you enough for reading Don’t Give a Witch. If you enjoyed it, sign up below for my mailing list so you can receive updates about the Bless Your Witch series.

  While you’re waiting for the continuing saga of the Apel sisters to pop up on your ereading device, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Reviews are invaluable to Indie authors like myself as it helps my little book gain visibility and also helps other readers decide if they’d be interested in trying out my book. ‘Cause you know, life is short, and there are lots of books out there to read—if you're like me, you want to read the ones that entertain you.

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  Y’all take care of yourselves out there.

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  Best witches,

  * * *

  Amy

  * * *

  BLESS YOUR WITCH

  * * *

  Scared Witchless

  Kiss My Witch

  Queen Witch

  Quit Your Witchin’

  For Witch’s Sake

  Don’t Give a Witch

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  COMING SEPTEMBER 2017

  The Witch’s Handbook to Hunting Vampires

  About the Author

  Amy Boyles grew up reading Judy Blume and Christopher Pike. Somehow, the combination of coming of age books and teenage murder mysteries made her want to be a writer. After graduating college at DePauw University, she spent some time living in Chicago, Louisville, and New York before settling back in the South. Now, she spends her time chasing two toddlers while trying to stir up trouble in Silver Springs, Alabama, the fictional town where Dylan Apel and her sisters are trying to master witchcraft, tame their crazy relatives, and juggle their love lives.

  Thank you for reading Don’t Give a Witch. If you enjoyed it, tell your friends about it or write a review. If you do write a review, please let me know at amyboylesauthor@gmail.com so I can personally thank you.

  Connect with me online!

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  amy@amyboylesauthor.com

  Don’t Give a Witch

  by Amy Boyles

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  Copyright © 2017 Amy Boyles

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of the copyright holder. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely
coincidental.

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