For Witch's Sake (Bless Your Witch Book Five)

by Amy Boyles

  The shape of a body lay outlined in our yard. With trembling hands, I pressed the flashlight button on my phone. Light washed over the figure.

  Sightless eyes stared up at the inky sky. Eyes that belonged to Wanda LaRue. She lay dead on my lawn—the black fingerlike tendrils of her dress splayed out all around like an eerie halo.

  Rustling came from behind her. I glanced up. A dark shadow stepped forward until it hit a splash of light.

  There stood my grandmother, Milly. She was supposed to be at home, not here.

  Especially not leaning over the dead body of Wanda LaRue.

  "Looks like someone killed her," Milly said.

  I gulped. "Yep. Looks like."

  In fact, it looked like that someone was Milly.

  EIGHT

  "You were right," I said to Roman. "She was coming here first."

  He nodded. "Yeah, but someone killed her first."

  We sat in the house. Roman had searched the body for clues and had notified the witch police. They'd cleaned up their investigation about an hour earlier, leaving us alone.

  "Who do you think did it?" I said. I hadn't told him that I found Milly standing behind LaRue's crumpled body. Roman was concerned when he found Milly back at our house and questioned why she hadn't stayed home, but he'd dropped it after my paternal grandmother told him that she didn't feel right leaving us alone.

  Roman smirked. "Who did it? Probably the same person who poisoned LaRue's daughter. Maybe even the same person who helped her escape from prison."

  Okay, good. Roman didn't think Milly had done it. Of course, why should he? He hadn't found her standing behind a dead body. Nope. That would be me. "So you think LaRue was set up?"

  He raked his fingers through his hair. "If someone knew she was going to spill information to us, then a lot of people may have wanted her dead. A lot. A whole magic-stealing ring."

  "So how was it done? I don't remember seeing a knife sticking out her back or anything." Right. Because I was too focused on my grandmother at the murder scene.

  "Looks like the strips of her dress squeezed her to death."

  "Ew," I said. "That's horrible."

  "That's invention. Witches are nothing if not creative."

  I nudged him with my elbow. "Aren't you glad you're in love with one?"

  He chuckled. "Couldn't be gladder."

  I rolled my eyes. "What do we do now?"

  "We sleep. I think you're safe for the night, so I'm not going to stay. In the morning there's something I want to do."

  "What's that?"

  Roman's green eyes sparkled with intensity. "Find out who visited LaRue besides us."

  ***

  Since everything had been in such upheaval, my family insisted that Milly go ahead and spend the night, especially after she returned right when LaRue was killed.

  I know I keep mentioning it—the whole thing is freaking me out, okay? What would you think if you knew some crazy witch lady wanted to steal your grandmother's soul? Okay, maybe not steal, but do a Freaky Friday switcharoo on it. And then you find that grandmother—who's supposed to be curled up in her own bed, by the way—standing over the aforementioned dead body of the first witch?

  And what if that isn't even my grandmother? What if the witch was able to do the switch?

  I know it's a lot to keep straight, but just go with it.

  I peeked into my bedroom. Milly lay snuggled under the sheets, a book propped up in her hands.

  "Is there anything I can get you?"

  "How about a hot man to give me a back rub?"

  "Roman's gone."

  She frowned. "Then I guess there isn't anything I need."

  Okay, so they probably hadn't been switched since I could imagine my grandmother asking for a hot stud.

  "I'm glad you're staying with us tonight. That's just crazy about Wanda being found outside."

  "Yeah. Good thing I found her before she found me." Milly cackled.

  My eyes widened to what I'm pretty sure was supreme pizza size. Okay. There wasn't anything I could say to that other than ask if she'd murdered the woman.

  I wasn't going to do that. I wasn't going to think that my grandmother would commit murder. That was too much for my simple brain to handle.

  I said good night and went to Sera's room. She was typing into her phone. "Milly all set?"

  "You could say that."

  I changed and wiggled under the covers. "You texting Brock?"

  She smiled. "Yeah."

  I pounded the pillow to fluff it up and then jacked it under my head. "So what's all this about you wanting to leave us and go be queen of the winged monkeys?"

  Sera rolled her eyes. "I never said that."

  "You didn't have to." I poked her arm. "I know you. I know what you're thinking."

  She slid a lock of hair from her eyes. "It's nothing. I don't know. It's just—"

  "What? You're in love with the guy and this place feels cramped and crazy and maybe he's talked about getting serious?"

  She bit down on her bottom lip. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

  "I steal your phone at night and go through your texts."

  Sera shot me a dark look.

  "Kidding. I'm kidding. I just figured that's where y'all are heading." I sighed into the pillow. "We all have to grow up sometime, I guess. I just figured it wouldn't happen until we were fifty."

  "God, I hope it happens before then." Sera set her phone on the nightstand. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about that right now. So we've got some complications, huh?"

  I pulled the downy covers up to my chin. "You could say that."

  My sister flipped over on her side. The bed shifted and groaned. "We've got a murder, a woman in a coma and the cure for her. Think someone else is going to come stalking around?"

  I scratched a spot behind my ear. "With our luck an entire town of witches will come lurking."

  "We need to get out of this house arrest. We're sitting ducks here."

  "If someone wanted to kill us, wouldn't they have done it tonight? Why stop at LaRue when there's an entire house to bring down?"

  "Grandma was here, remember? She's a good fighter. They may be waiting until she leaves, get us alone. We need to ask Pearbottom to lift it."

  I shook my head. "He'll say no."

  "Why do you say that?"

  I exhaled. "Because I've already talked to him. He's got no sympathy for us."

  "What about Gladiolas?"

  "I talked to her, too."

  Sera frowned. "What is it you're saying to all these people that's causing them to say no?"

  I flashed a bright smile. "I'm just being my normal, cheery self."

  She smirked. "Right. Maybe you should stop being so cheery and let me do the talking."

  I shrugged. "Go ahead. Be my guest. If you can get us out of this mess, you'll have my undying affection."

  Sera rolled over and switched off the light. "I already have that. I'm your sister."

  The next morning Grandma was gone by the time I got up. I'd forgotten to call Jenny Butts to see if someone could help out at my shop, so I made that phone call ASAP.

  "Hey, Jenny," I said, grimacing into the phone.

  "Dylan Apel. Hell must have frozen over twice for you to be calling me."

  "Yeah. I need a favor."

  "Three times frozen."

  "Okay, I know we're not close or anything, but I've got some extenuating circumstances going on and I was wondering if you could open my shop for me today?"

  "I've got my own business to run, Dylan."

  "Your business is closed on Mondays."

  "I'm getting my hair shampooed."

  I sighed. "This isn't the fifties, Jenny. No one does that anymore except old ladies. Listen, I'll pay you twenty bucks an hour."

  "Deal."

  I told her she could get a spare key from Grandma at the bakery, and we hung up. Good. Well, at least I had one thing taken care of for the day.

  I met Milly in the kitchen.
She was standing by the coffee pot, waiting for it to finish burping and gurgling.

  "Good morning," I said.

  "Right back at you," she replied sourly.

  I scoffed. "Glad you slept well. You seem like a whole new person."

  She shot me a scalding look.

  I grinned. "Seen Adonis anywhere?"

  "He was eating the dining room rug last time I saw him."

  "Great." I opened a cabinet and grabbed a mug from the shelf. "You got any plans for today?"

  "I told Roman I'd watch you girls. Make sure you're kept safe."

  The last stream of coffee spat from the pot into the carafe. Milly poured herself a cup and caned over to the table. I filled my mug and leaned a hip against the counter.

  "So that was really weird last night, finding Wanda."

  Milly shrugged. "Not really. No surprise she wound up dead."

  "Yeah, but she ended up dead in our front yard."

  Milly took a long sip. "We knew she was headed here."

  "And you came back," I countered.

  My grandmother studied me over the rim of her cup. "What are you saying, toots?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing."

  That's right, I chickened out. I didn't have any interest in asking my grandmother point-blank if she'd killed LaRue. I'd wait for the witch police to find a thread of magic on the body and match it.

  Since magical threads were like fingerprints on a normal person, whoever killed LaRue would have left their own individual thread—something that could be traced back to the killer.

  If the murderer had left a thread that matched someone in the witch police's databank, we'd know their identity soon.

  That, in fact, gave me an idea. I finished my cup and slinked to the front door, stopping by the buffet first.

  "Where are you going?"

  I stopped. Reid sat in the living room, crocheting some monstrosity while watching Adonis.

  "For a jog around the neighborhood," I said sarcastically.

  She stuck her tongue out at me.

  "Mature," I said.

  "I was just wondering," my baby sister said. "It's not like you can go far."

  "I know that. I'm going out for a breath of fresh air. The oxygen in here is stale."

  "Want to try on this sweater first?"

  I tried not to wince. "Sure." I had not, in fact, tried on one of Reid's creations before, mostly because they were all a little lopsided and one sleeve tended to be longer than the other.

  I tugged the sweater over my head, the yarn giving it a breathable, light feeling. Her power crept up on me, and I instantly felt happier. It wasn't an earth-shattering feeling or anything, but it was something.

  "How's it look?" I said.

  She studied me. "Hmm. Needs some work. One sleeve is a bit long."

  Like I said.

  I pulled it off and handed it back to her.

  Reid beamed at me hopefully. "Want to take the unicorn with you? He made need to go potty."

  "I'll take him out back in a couple of minutes."

  I stepped out the front door and into the morning sunshine. Warm rays splashed over my arms. The day was heating up quickly. It wasn't even officially summer yet, and the temperatures were already rising into the eighties.

  I pulled the flashlight from my pocket. This was no ordinary light. Months ago it had been tampered with so that when it shone, it picked up magical threads. I hadn't used it in ages and hoped the thing still worked.

  I flipped it on. A low beam pulsed from the bulb. I gave it a good smack, and the light strengthened. I knew I looked stupid shining it on the sidewalk, but I'd just tell any neighbor who asked that it was a science experiment.

  The witch police would've scanned the area for clues, so there were no assurances that I'd find a thread, but I'd give it a shot anyway.

  The bulb washed over the sidewalk. Nothing lit up. No surprises there. Then I remembered LaRue being in the bushes before falling onto the ground. I scanned the light over the hedge. Nothing popped out at me, so I stuck my hand into the prickly bush and swept back part of the shrub.

  I thrust the flashlight inside. The beam washed over the dark interior. On my hands and knees, I slowly moved down the line of the bush until I was near the end.

  Still nothing.

  I had my finger on the switch about to flip it off when a wiggle caught my attention. I turned my head and leaned forward. Inching slowly along a branch lay a small green thread. About two inches long, the thin bit coiled up when I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger.

  I found it! This thread belonged to whoever murdered Wanda LaRue. Now all I had to do was see if it matched a thread from Milly.

  Yes, I knew it was bad that I thought my grandmother might've murdered a woman, but I needed to rest the nagging thought in my brain and also slow the ulcer growing in my stomach.

  "Found the killer's thread?"

  I whirled around, crushing the twine in my hand. I came nose to nose with Milly, who was bent over the row of bushes.

  She opened her palm. "Let me see it." I handed it to her. She inspected it, turning it this way and that. "Well there's something you don't see every day."

  "What's that?"

  Milly smiled at me. Her thumb and forefinger parted. The thread drifted to the ground. She lifted one orthopedic shoe–clad foot and ground the twine into the pavement.

  Milly Jones had just destroyed the thread of the witch who killed Wanda LaRue.

  NINE

  I backed away from my grandmother. "What was it you were going to say? What is it you don't see every day?"

  Milly leaned both knotted hands atop her cane. "It's not every day you see a witch's power used against her."

  I squinted, not understanding. "What?"

  "That thread belonged to Wanda LaRue."

  "I'm still not following."

  Milly turned, shuffling toward the front door. I followed her. "That was Wanda's thread found on her own body. Either LaRue cast a protective spell trying to shield herself from her enemy at the last minute, or someone cast a mirror spell and LaRue's own magic backfired, killing her."

  Whoa. That was some seriously deep crap. My head spun as I wrapped my mind around her theory.

  "That's crazy."

  Milly's eyes twinkled. "That's magic—and that's a true killer for you. This wasn't some random person who murdered LaRue. That was an expert. An assassin sent to destroy her."

  I swallowed a knot in the back of my throat. "You think we're next."

  Milly shrugged. "Anything's possible."

  "Why'd you destroy the thread? The witch police will want to see that."

  Milly’s eyes narrowed. "Because we don't need the killer to find it and know that we know what we know."

  "Oookaaay," I said slowly.

  "It's for your own protection, toots. Trust me."

  "I always do," I said, though my stomach curled into a ball when I thought about her destroying that evidence. "I always do," I repeated, unsure if I was trying to convince myself or Milly that I believed it.

  ***

  Roman stopped by later that night. The house was packed with women and one man who trailed a cloud of testosterone everywhere he went.

  "Hey, handsome," I said, snuggling up to him.

  He wrapped a chiseled arm around me. "Hey, beautiful. How was your day?"

  "Oh you know, the usual. Stayed chained to the house, washed some dishes, caught up on Dr. Phil. It was so exciting I almost pulled out my eyelashes one by one and counted them."

  "Sounds psychotic," Roman said.

  I flipped a strand of hair from my face. "Don't tempt me to cross to the other side. This whole house-arrest thing is really getting on my nerves."

  "Hmm," he said. "You've still got a ways to go before you can be freed."

  "Roman, there is a murderer on the loose. I need to be able to flee this house if I have to. Besides, I have no magic to protect me."

  He raised his hands in surrender.
"I'm not the enemy."

  "I know," I said. "It's not you." I sighed. "There's just a lot going on."

  "Want to talk about it?"

  I shook my head. "Not right now."

  "Dylan," Grandma called from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready. It's your favorite. Meatloaf topped with pumpkin seeds."

  Bleh. Definitely not my favorite. I'd never even heard of such a ridiculous meal. "Where'd you come up with that?" I said.

  Grandma popped her head out from the kitchen. Her triangle-shaped hair bounced from the movement. "It came to me in a flash while I was at the bakery today. I just bit off a piece and tasted it. Succulent. You'll love it."

  I glanced up at Roman. "Want some dinner that may or may not make you vomit?"

  Roman's lips curled into a delicious smile. "I wouldn't want anything else."

  We ate a big meal, though I pushed the seeds off the meatloaf and just ate the loaf part of it. Grandma relayed all the gossip she'd heard while at the bakery, and Sera reported that Brock's winged monkeys were having no problem at all protecting Milly. They were also managing to stay out of sight. Meanwhile, Adonis watched the whole thing with patient, dark eyes. The unicorn seemed to listen to everything we said, though the baby made no response.

  I had to admit, the little tyke was growing on me. Let's face it, he hadn't eaten the clothes off my back yet, so I still held a tender spot for him.

  After supper I took a cup of coffee into the living room and nestled onto the couch with my knees tucked under me. Roman joined me.

  "So what'd you find out today?" I asked. "You know, about who visited Wanda. Or did you even find out anything?"

  He took my free hand and set it in his lap. Roman studied it, turning it back and forth.

  "Are you avoiding my question for a reason?" I asked.

  "No," he said. "Just watching perfection."

  I rolled my eyes. "It's a wrist and a hand. I wouldn't call it perfection." I'd wrestled all day with whether or not to tell him about Milly. Her behavior had just been so odd, I couldn't push it out of my mind. But at the same time I didn't want to throw her under the bus. Milly was an amazing grandmother. No, she wasn't snuggly-wuggly, but she'd helped me in many ways since I'd learned about my witch heritage.