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

by Amy Boyles

"I doubt it. We've met lots of witches. There've been some good, some bad and most of them, I have nothing in common with."

  "That's because you haven't tried," Sera said. "When was the last time you sat down and had a cup of coffee with one and got to know them?"

  "Like never," I said.

  "Exactly," she said. "Don't you think it's time we started?"

  "Nope. And why are you suddenly so interested? You're thinking of leaving here anyway."

  Reid's face widened in surprise. "You are?"

  Sera shook her head. "No, I'm not." When Reid looked back at the computer, Sera shot me a look that could've withered my skin if she'd been a better witch. "Besides, maybe we need to embrace others in the community, learn about them, be open-minded. We might be from a small town, but we don't have to act like it."

  "I'm enjoying getting to know these witches," Reid said. "If you don't want to talk to them, you can go away."

  "Sheesh. Okay."

  I went back to my room, snuggled under the covers and thought about things. I needed my powers. What did Chasity mean, that they were locked in my heart? Milly would know. Milly always knew the answers to things. First thing in the morning, I'd give her a visit.

  I nestled down, prayed that Roman would stay safe in Fairyland and went to sleep.

  ***

  The next morning I got up early. I was going to have Grandma whisk me over to Milly's as I couldn't exactly be seen out and about town in case Pearbottom was watching, but my grandmother was already gone.

  Instead I found Chasity in the kitchen eating some toast.

  "Did you sleep okay?" I asked her.

  "Yes, thank you," she said. "You want to go to your grandmother Milly's."

  I paused in pouring my cup of coffee. "Could you not do that? Read my mind? It's so eerie."

  She shrugged. "I'll take you."

  Well that almost made up for the mind-reading trick. "Okay, let's go."

  I made a to-go cup of coffee. Chasity grabbed my arm. "Hang on," she said, flashing a devilish grin. "People say I'm a rough navigator."

  You could say that again. Traveling with Chasity was like being sucked down a tornado. A gust of magic whirled past, twisting my body this way and that. Right when I was sure vomit was edging up the back of my throat and about to project from my mouth, the sensation stopped.

  I lurched forward, falling straight onto Milly's rug.

  A pair of orthopedic shoes came into view. "Good morning," Milly said. "You're late. I was expecting you hours ago."

  I peeled myself off the floor. "You were?"

  "Yep. Chasity had already called."

  I looked at the young witch. "So not only do you read minds, but you tell on people?"

  She shrugged. "It's not exactly telling."

  I brushed dust from my arms and said, "Let's get started. Milly, I need you to show me how to unlock my magic."

  She caned over to Polly Parrot's cage and stroked his beak through the bars. "I can show you, but it's up to you to make it happen."

  "I'm ready for you to teach me."

  She shrugged. "Okay. See your magic inside yourself and force it to come out."

  I waited for her to say more. When she didn't, I said, "Is that all?"

  "That's it."

  I closed my eyes and focused on finding my magic. I didn't know what I was doing, and to be honest, I felt like a total moron.

  "You're not a moron," Chasity said.

  "Thank you."

  "Shh. Focus," Milly snarled.

  I dived back into my mind, searching for my power. All I saw was darkness, as if I were standing on the precipice of a black hole. Then at the very bottom, or end, I saw a spark ignite.

  That was it. My magic.

  I reached for it, knowing it was in my grasp.

  Jonathan Pearbottoms's head sprouted from the darkness. "Dylan Apel! I will throw you into witch jail for the rest of your life!"

  I raced back to the present. My eyes flared open. I gulped down several deep breaths and walked with shaking legs to one of Milly's chairs.

  I sank down. "It's no use. Until Pearbottom gives it back to me, I can't reach it. It's not available for me to use."

  Milly placed a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay. You'll get it back when the two weeks are up."

  "I guess," I said. "But what if I need it before then?"

  "You won't," Milly said.

  I shot her a skeptical look.

  "Correction, you might not."

  "Okay," I grumbled. I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the chair. "Well, Chasity, at least we tried. You ready to get back?"

  She nodded. "Yes." She started rubbing her hands together.

  "Stop," someone yelled.

  We turned. Eliza Cooper stood in front of the door. "Don't go anywhere. I just received word." She marched over to a peg, took off a jacket and handed it to Milly. "We've got to leave right this instant."

  I frowned. "For where?"

  Eliza helped Milly into her jacket. "Where? Fairyland. We can't wait one instant."

  "Why?" I said.

  Eliza stopped. Brought a trembling hand to her face. Tears sprouted in her eyes. She shook her head as if it were too painful to say.

  Fear clutched my heart and squeezed it to the point of breaking. "What is it?" I said.

  Chasity took my hand. "It's Roman. He's been hurt."

  FOURTEEN

  Fear, or it could have been bile, clawed up the back of my throat. "Where's Roman?" I asked.

  Eliza took my hand. "He's still in Fairyland. I received a call from a contact I have there. He's being kept in a safe place."

  "Let's go," I said. "Milly, are you coming?"

  Milly caned over to us. "If Roman's hurt, I'm going to help him."

  "Me too," Chasity said.

  "Okay." I nodded to Eliza. "Can you take us to him?"

  Eliza's brown eyes were dark with determination. "It's done. Take hands."

  We gripped each other as the room faded away, shimmering into a silvery steam of nothing. The feeling of being in-between worlds lasted half a second. Next thing I knew, lush green grass sprouted up beneath my feet. The gurgle of a brook babbled nearby, the smell of fresh-cut hay trickled up my nose and my skin pricked from the heavy moisture in the air.

  "It's about to rain," Eliza said. "The village we're going to isn't far."

  We crossed a plain of swaying grasses and reached the edge of a forest. It was strange, as if a grove of trees had purposely been planted right in the middle of nothing. The trees grew thick, their limbs entwining with each other, blocking out the sun and making the forest appear so dense I didn't know how we'd make it through, much less inside.

  We took about three steps in when a tall man wearing a crisp white shirt and black jeans stepped out from behind a tree. His black hair was pulled back except for a single strand that snaked over his left eye. A trace of beard dusted his face, and when he smiled, a perfect set of white teeth beamed at us.

  "Dylan, it's so good to see you."

  I raced into his hug. "Brock. What're you doing here?"

  He gave me a quick, tight squeeze and released me. "What am I doing here? Look around. You've come to me."

  "You mean this is—"

  His eyes shone with mischief. "Monkey Town. And I am the monkey king, at your service."

  ***

  My eyes brimmed with tears while I stood in front of Brock. He pulled me close and told me everything was going to be okay. I gulped down my tears and rubbed an arm across my dripping nose.

  When I pulled myself together, we set off.

  We followed Brock into the maze of trees. My breath hitched when I saw the world we'd stepped into. It was like a jungle in the middle of Fairyland—a jungle where towering trees held multiple wooden platforms. Stamped onto those platforms were small huts, or homes. You'd never know it from looking in, but the place had to house hundreds, if not thousands of people.

  "How's Sera?" Brock asked.

&
nbsp; "She's good. Dealing with the whole house arrest thing a lot better than me," I said, trying not to stare as a mostly human, part monkey mother with her baby strapped onto her back strolled past.

  Brock was all human, and from what I understood, he'd been adopted by the previous monkey king, which was how he was the current ruler of these people. I'd heard that there were hybrids in the community, and as I looked around, it appeared most of the inhabitants had at least some type of primate in their blood with their broad faces, massive arms, and a bit of hair sprouting from their pores. Some looked completely human, but I remembered that Sera and I met one of Brock's court members—one who'd ended up hexing Sera's magic—and she’d looked completely human but Sera informed me that she had a tail.

  Hey, I just had to learn to go with it.

  We reached a barred cage. "Everybody in," Brock said.

  It reminded me of a shark cage. You know, the kind you see on TV when really crazy people with death wishes are submerged down into the depths of hell—I mean the ocean—and they wait for sharks to attack them.

  Yeah, that's the kind of cage it was. We stepped inside. Brock pulled the sliding door shut and cranked a lever on the floor. The elevator jumbled to life. It rumbled as cogs and wheels cranked. I gripped the bars as we rose into the sky, high over the lower platforms and up into a giant tree that was probably as old as the earth itself.

  We jerked to a stop. Brock opened the door. A cream-colored house shaped like the top half of an oval sat on a platform attached to the tree. Golden light broke through the windows.

  If hobbits lived in trees, this is what I imagined their village would look like.

  It was so cool. I couldn't wait to go inside.

  Two guards opened the double doors. I gasped. They weren't just guards; they were winged monkeys. After all this time hearing about them, I finally got to see them. They wore black enameled helmets and chest plates. Both appeared more monkey than human, which was to be expected. But y'all, best of all—secured to their backs lay a set of steel wings.

  Brock leaned over. "They run off fairy dust."

  "They do?" I whispered.

  "Yep. It's good to trade with your neighbors, even when your relationship can be tenuous at times."

  I followed him inside the house. The walls were a smooth cream. Molded top and bottom was rich, dark wood that also framed out the windows.

  The place seemed empty except for us.

  Brock led us straight inside to what must have been his living room. I sat on a lush, velvet chair and waited. Brock poured each of us a goblet full of some steaming liquid from a clay pitcher.

  "It's a type of cider. Drink up. It'll make all of you feel better after your journey here."

  I took a sip. Warm liquid spilled over my tongue and down my throat. It reminded me of apples and peaches. It was delicious.

  "Anyone hungry?" he asked.

  We shook our heads.

  Brock rubbed his hands together. "Right. Let's get to it, then," he said. The words may have been pointed, but Brock Odom had a buttery voice and a slow drawl that made everything he said come out just a tad sexy. It was no wonder my sister was head over heels for him. I was just relieved that he cared for her as well.

  "We received word from the fairies that they'd intercepted a human on their lands. Once they described him to me, I knew it was Roman." Brock paused to rub his forehead. "They think he was spying. Now spying anywhere is bad, but it's even worse when fairies are involved—they don't tolerate it."

  "Roman wasn't spying," I said, frustrated. "He was trying to find out what happened to Smiley Martin."

  Brock nodded. "I tried to explain that he wouldn't spy, but they're not listening. I even told their king I know Roman, that he's a good friend of mine—like a brother. He said they had proof he was spying and wouldn't even consider letting him go except for one thing."

  "What's that?" I said, ready to pull my hair out.

  "They want to meet his mate."

  Pretty sure my face flushed to a deep, dark purple.

  "Okay," I said slowly.

  "Life mates are a big thing with fairies," Milly said, rolling her eyes. "They think everything hinges on it."

  Brock nodded. "It's pretty simple. If they don't like the look of the mate, or think that there's something tricky going on, they'll put Roman to death."

  "That's horrible," I said.

  Brock shook his head. "Welcome to the land of the fairies. They hate humans, they hate most anybody who isn't a fairy so they often make up rules based on their whims. I have to say, they have a hankering for sniffing out the truth."

  I gripped the arms of the velvet chair, digging my fingers into the fabric. "So what does this mean?"

  "It means," Eliza said, "you're Roman's only hope for getting out of this alive."

  ***

  Where the monkey king people lived high among the trees, fairies actually lived in trees. Their territory was on the other side of the forest. Thanks to magic, we traveled there swiftly and painlessly. We reached a glen bordered by giant redwood-type trees. They shot high into sky, their canopy so dense the sunshine was blocked.

  Two fairy guards met us. They were tall, lithe men with long hair, sinewy bodies and delicate, pixie features.

  They were exactly what I figured fairies would look like. Except, you know, the whole we-hate-humans thing.

  Without one word, the fairy men guided us through a series of vast trails cut into the earth. They were deep from wear and lined with smooth stones.

  We stopped at a gathering of fairy men and women. They regarded us with dark, quizzical gazes. Brock led us into their midst, and they parted as we approached.

  The fairy king sat on a throne of ivy and stone. Moss and jewels were woven into his long copper hair, and he held a staff made of some black glass—obsidian, maybe?

  You know, sometimes I impress myself with how I know random stuff like the word obsidian. Don't worry; I won't let it go to my head or anything.

  Anyway, his face was drawn tight, his high cheekbones gaunt, his lips pursed. He wore a green robe with long, billowing sleeves and a cream-colored tunic underneath. In fact, all the people wore very similar, somewhat unisex clothing in muted, earth-toned colors.

  "So you're the mate," he said, studying me.

  Very interesting, I thought. Because he could have chosen Chasity, but his eyes fixed deliberately on me.

  I tried not to cower and scream and run, because let's face it, I was clearly on display, and things like this made me incredibly uncomfortable.

  "I am. Where is he? Is he safe?"

  The king didn't answer. Instead he nodded to two men who gripped me by both arms and dragged me closer to him.

  Cold fingers pinched my cheeks as the king took my face and turned my head this way and that. He leaned so close I could see a starburst of gold in his irises. His pupils pulsed, the inky black looking large enough to swallow my soul. I gulped down an egg of worry in the back of my throat.

  The king sniffed one side of my face, then the other. He released me and nestled back into the throne.

  "You don't accept things," he said.

  "Some things aren't worth accepting," I countered.

  "You don't accept the reality of what you have. You deny those who you should embrace."

  What was he talking about?

  The king shook his head. "The mate has come. The mate has failed the test." The king raised a clenched fist high in the air. "The prisoner shall die!"

  My heart plunged to my feet. No. No! Roman couldn't die. No!

  Chasity rushed up to me. "You tried, Dylan Apel. All the clothes stitching in the world couldn't have helped with this."

  The king's eyes flashed to us. "Wait!" He rose from the throne. "Did you say, Dylan Apel?"

  I nodded. "Yes, that's my name."

  He peered closer to me. "As in, Dylan Apel the dress designer?"

  I glanced around at the group, unsure of how to answer. "Yes, that's me.
"

  The fairy king raised his hands and clapped. "Dylan Apel the clothing designer!"

  I nodded again. What the heck was going on? "Yes, that's me."

  He grabbed me by the hand and kissed my knuckles. "Dylan Apel, I love your clothes." He glanced at the group of fairies. "This is the designer whose clothes I love. The one I've been telling you about."

  The crowd murmured and nodded approval. The king looked at me, flashed a smile. "I'm so excited to meet you, Ms. Apel. I have all your designs. Tell me," he said, eyes twinkling, "what's the fall line going to look like?"

  FIFTEEN

  Clothar, the fairy king, immediately took me to see Roman. Yep, it was the clothes that did it. The guy was a clotheshorse and confided in me that he'd been ordering my pieces ever since I started my online store. Since he clearly couldn't have mail from our world delivered to Fairyland, he had a secret PO box that he used in another state. I will point out that most of my designs were for women.

  What he did with the clothes? I had no clue.

  But you know, I'm trying not to judge here.

  He was leading me to Roman, but I was still bothered by something. "What about failing the mate test?" I said to him.

  Clothar waived a hand in dismissal. "What? Oh, you're his mate, but you don't accept things in your life."

  My eyes bulged at him. "And you would have put him to death for that? Because I don't accept a few things?"

  He shook his copper head of hair and jewels. "You may make beautiful clothes, Dylan Apel, but you have some growing up to do."

  That wasn't exactly an answer, but he didn't say anything else, so I guess that was the best I was going to get out of him.

  I was led to an arched door bolted into a tree. A guard opened it. Lying inside, on a cot made of roots and stones, lay Roman.

  I rushed over to him, scraping my knees as I plunged to the ground. I felt his skin. He was burning up. Blond hair plastered his face, and sweat dripped from his chin.

  "Have you given him anything?" I said to Clothar.