by Amy Boyles
"No. We didn't know what had been used on him."
I scowled. "I thought you were the ones who did this to him."
The king shook his head. "It wasn't our people who injured him. We only found him."
I started to ask who, but realized it was pointless. That didn't matter now. All that mattered was that Roman needed to be healed.
"I can't heal him," I said. "I don't have my magic."
Chasity swept past Clothar. "Let me help." The young woman pulled her cloud of blonde hair from her face and pressed both hands to Roman's chest.
"He's hurt, but it's not fatal. I can heal him."
My vision blurred as tears swelled in my eyes. "Please," I nearly begged. "Do whatever you can."
She whispered words so low I couldn't hear them. An amber glow spread out from beneath her fingers. It washed over Roman's body, wrapping him in a cocoon. It pulsed for a beat and then shimmered away.
I glanced at Chasity with all the hope of the world pressing on my shoulders. "Will he be okay?"
She nodded toward him. "Ask him yourself."
Roman blinked a few times. His gaze swept the room, pausing on Clothar and finally landing on me. He gave me a crooked grin. "If I'd known you'd travel to the ends of the earth to find me, I would've sailed those seas a long time ago."
I rolled my eyes. "I think you have brain damage."
"If that's what you call loving you, then yes, I do."
I laughed. "How do you feel?"
Roman sat up slowly, with me and Chasity helping him. "Like I've been run over."
Clothar smiled. "Good. That means you'll be back to normal in no time."
It took a couple of hours for Roman's strength to return to him. Clothar was kind enough to offer him food, which appeared to help.
"What happened?" Eliza asked.
Roman scraped his palm over his forehead. "I was in the forest tracking down a lead. I'd run into a hermit with information about Smiley—apparently an old acquaintance of his who didn't volunteer too much without a little help."
I took that to mean Roman had to do some threatening to get the guy to talk.
"I tracked his information to a place in the forest. I figured I'd been set up, so I watched from afar, waiting to see who was going to ambush me. Then I was ambushed from behind. I don't know what spell they used, but it nearly killed me."
I crossed my arms. "Did you take the pouch with you? You know, the one with the magical healing glitter in it?"
Roman grimaced. "After I left you, I went home to get a few things. I forgot it. Sorry."
I poked his chest. "It could've saved your life."
He took my hand. "You saved my life."
"That's not true. It was Chasity. Roman, if you'd had that pouch, this might not have happened."
He smiled at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'll grab it first thing when I get home."
I glared at him. "Promise? ’Cause if you're not going to use it, I will."
"Promise."
Eliza adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. "Any idea who the attacker was?"
Roman shook his head. "I didn't get a good look at them. Once the spell hit me, I was left for dead."
"That's when we found you," Clothar said. "You were on our territory."
"So whoever it was figured that if their spell didn't kill you, the fairies would," Brock added from a corner of the room.
"Sounds about right," Roman said.
"Well," Brock said, "if it's a dead Roman Bane they want, I say we give it to them."
"What do you mean?" I said.
"He means we set a trap," Clothar said. "Someone will come back to make sure Roman's dead."
"If they haven't already," Eliza said. "They may have come and gone."
Roman rose from the chair and stretched. "It's worth it to play dead. I'll lie down in the same spot where I fell."
Brock, Eliza and Roman started going over details of the plan. Clothar approached me. "There's something I want to show you."
"Okay," I said.
He nodded to Chasity as well. We followed him through the cavernous home, up a flight of stone steps and into a room that looked like his bedroom. It was exactly what I would have expected, full of vines and plants with gauzy white cloth covering the bed and windows. We reached a door.
Clothar threw it open. "Behold."
A light snapped on to reveal Clothar's closet. On one side there were men's shirts and pants. On the other were women's clothes—dresses and blouses, feather boas and hats. There were sparkling sequins and rhinestones, silks and wool blends.
"It's wonderful," Chasity cooed.
"I love clothes," Clothar said. "As a fairy man it's different here than in your world. I can have these and no one will think anything of it."
"They're gorgeous," I said.
His eye twinkled. "Try them on."
So we did. Chasity and I spent an hour trying on hats and pants, dresses and tuxedos. We giggled and laughed, playing dress up while Clothar cheered and applauded us on.
In the end I'd found a new friend. One who was a witch. I almost amazed myself, giving up on my preconceived notions of what witches were—evil beings intent on stealing my power.
I handed Chasity a dress and said, "You should try this one on. It'll look great with your hair."
Her eyes brightened at the purple silk dress. "Oh yes, I love it."
She took it from me and was unzipping it when a loud horn blast sounded from outside.
Clothar grabbed the dress. "There's no time to try it on."
"Why? What was that?" I said.
"An intruder. Whoever tried to kill your mate has returned."
I shook my head. "What do you mean? They're just now making plans to catch them."
Clothar flashed me a terribly mischievous and completely un-fairy king–like smile. "I let them talk to make them think they were doing something important. We set a trap as soon as we found Roman."
"You mean—"
Clothar nodded. "We've caught the intruder. Now, let's go see who tried to kill him."
***
We reached the glen in no time. There, standing at the base of tree, clamped to the trunk, was Esmerelda Pommelton, Queen Witch of the South.
Yes, that's right. You heard correctly—Queen Em had been captured by the fairies.
"What the heck is goin' on here? One o' y'all best be gettin' this stupid chain off my foot before I start blastin' at your ancient trees."
What a nice way to welcome yourself into enemy territory.
Her gaze landed on me. "Now why aren't I surprised to see Dylan Apel here? Whenever there's trouble, of course she's gonna be in the center of it."
"Good to see you too, Em. It's always a pleasure."
She shook her head in fury. Crimson and cinnamon curls cascaded over her shoulders. "I ain't gonna be repeatin' myself. One o' y'all best be gettin' me outta this here cuff."
Roman threw a glance to Clothar, who signaled to his men to release Em.
Em dusted leaves from her arms. "Just what is goin' on?"
Roman shifted his weight from one hip to the other. "It's a long story. Em, what are you doing here?"
She crossed to us, shaking a branch from her leg that apparently had the tines of death—the thing didn't want to release her. "Get off me," she snarled, giving one final kick and sending it flying. "That's better." She smoothed down her hair. "I came lookin' for y'all. Heard you were holed up with the fairies. Thought you might be in danger so I came personally." She pointed at Roman. "Then I saw a person who looked like you lyin' on the ground, so I walked over to investigate and ended up gettin' caught in that trap. Sheesh. What a welcome."
"Why are you looking for us?" I said.
"It's your sisters."
I narrowed my gaze. "What about them?"
Her gaze slewed from me to Chasity. "Apparently someone's being teachin' 'em magic a little too well."
"What are you talking about?" I said.
/> "There's magic pourin' from your house," she said. "It's gatherin' a lot of attention. I wanted to warn you before Pearbottom got wind of it and showed up."
I rolled my eyes. "What do you mean, there's magic coming from the house?"
"Let's just say a stray bit of magic shot out of the chimney, intercepted a sparrow and changed it into a hawk."
My eyes widened. "What?"
Em smacked her lips. "Yep. You need to get back to that house before they enmagick the whole thing and the house itself gets up and walks away."
"Is that possible?" I said.
Chasity smiled meekly. "It could happen."
"Oh boy," I said, slapping my forehead.
"And that's not all," Em said.
"What?" I croaked. "Could it get worse?"
"Your grandmother's gettin' into it."
I cocked a brow. "Which means?"
"All the magic has confused her. She thinks it's the great Witch War of 1960. She's barricaded the place and won't come out. She says anyone tries to get in and she'll blast 'em to smithereens."
Great. Just what I needed—a killer on the loose and a batty grandmother. I sighed. "Is there anything else I should know?"
Em frowned. "Be careful. She's armed, geriatric and dangerous."
SIXTEEN
Eliza transported us back to my house. When we arrived, my mouth fell open and landed on the street.
The entire house sparkled like it had been sprinkled in fairy dust. It shimmered as if it were about to come alive. I swear, the chimney was breathing—breathing, for goodness’ sake. This was bad. Very bad.
Right at that moment, a stream of power exploded from the chimney. Blue and pink ribbons reached for the sky, curling into fingers of magic before disappearing.
Great. If Pearbottom saw this, we would be dead. I hated to say it, but I owed Em huge for saving my rear end. Correction, for the potential save. This could still get bad.
"Okay," I said, "I'm going in."
Roman took my arm. "I'm going with you."
I placed a hand on his chest. His heart pounded beneath my palm. "No. Stay here. I'll be right back."
"You sure?" he said.
No. "Yes, I'll be fine."
I plucked up some courage and strode across the walkway. I reached the porch and opened the screen door. No one blasted me, so I figured I'd keep going. I opened the cherry-red front door slowly, poking my head through the gap.
"Hey, everybody, I'm home."
Magic zipped past my head, splattering on the door frame.
"Grandma," Sera screeched. "It's Dylan, for heaven's sake."
Grandma rushed over. She wore her usual World War II helmet but had covered it with netting that hid her face. She yanked back the netting. Her eyes were wide with panic.
"Dylan, get in here. Now!" Grandma tugged me inside.
The moment I stepped in, all my hopes of this being an easy problem to solve evaporated. In the middle of the living room sat a bubbling cauldron, and on either side stood Sera and Reid. Reid was stirring the huge pot, and Sera was reading from a book.
I was afraid to ask but had to know. "What's going on?"
Sera shot me a help glance. "We're keeping our magic warm."
"What?" I said.
Grandma scooted me over to the cauldron. "Dylan, this is how you keep your power ready at all times, by focusing it into the pot and warming it."
"Warming it?" I repeated in disbelief.
"Magic has to stay warm," Reid said. "Otherwise it gets cold and will be useless when we need it."
"And when will we need it?"
Grandma secured the netting to the top of the helmet with a silver hatpin. "Why, when the witches come, Dylan."
"Right, Dylan," Sera said. "Didn't you know? When the witches come."
I rolled my eyes. "You're not helping."
Sera tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Dyl, nothing can help this. I think we're way up crap creek without a crap paddle."
"Yeah," Reid said. "Her brain's finally broken. All the superglue in the world isn't going to fix this."
"What happened?" I said. "She was fine when I left."
Sera shook her head. "I don't know. I think it was all the magic we were using. We were bored. I think it confused her."
"Well, we're going to be in serious trouble if we don't fix this. The house is sparkling."
"Sparkling?" Reid said.
I nodded. "Yes, like it's covered in magic. We don't need it getting any ideas and trying to walk away."
"That's silly," Sera said. "The house has been here for a hundred years. It can't walk away."
The foundation rumbled. I teetered back as the house rose up on the right side, maybe six inches, as if it was stretching its limbs and testing the waters, so to speak.
"They're coming," Grandma said. "We need more magic, girls." She moved to the cauldron and raised her arms. The whirling pool of power bubbled up as if someone had turned the burner underneath it to HIGH. It climbed into the air.
The house lurched. I grabbed Grandma by both arms. "Grandma, stop it. The house is going to get up and walk right down the street."
"We need to be mindful of the other witches! Get away from them."
The walls rumbled. "Grandma, there are no other witches!"
"Nonsense, Dylan. They're all around us."
"Grandma, you're the one who's been helping me with my magic. Trying to teach me to embrace it and the people around us. The witches nearby aren't bad. They're not trying to harm us. They're our friends and only want to help us. You're not in the middle of the great Witch War. It's long past. You're here with me, Sera and Reid—your granddaughters. We love you very much."
The look of determination slowly faded from Grandma's face. She gazed around the room, seeming to study every feature for several seconds before lowering her hands.
The house settled back down. Grandma shook her head. She unstrapped the helmet, pulled it off her head and let it fall to the floor with a thud.
She looked at me with wet, shining eyes. "I—I don't know what got into me. I was suddenly back in the war, fighting for my life. I thought we were all there."
"It's okay," I said. "I know. But we're here now."
Grandma nodded. She inhaled deeply and placed her hands on my shoulders. I stroked the paper-thin skin. "You think the house was about to walk away?"
I laughed. "Yes. It was ready to head right on out of town."
"Hmm," she said. "That might have been interesting. Maybe we should try that sometime."
I frowned. "Maybe not."
Sera yanked off the pointy witch's hat she was wearing and threw it on the couch. "Listen, if the crisis is averted here, I'm starved. Anybody want some food?"
I raised my hand. "I do, and we have a few visitors outside who I'm sure would love a bite to eat."
"Bring them in and I'll whip something up."
Roman, Eliza and Chasity entered the house. For a moment I realized that Chasity probably could have dealt with the crisis as easily as me. I mean, let's face it, the girl had real power. But I was proud of myself for talking Grandma back from the edge.
I felt like a hero.
Don't worry. I won't let it go to my head.
Reid grabbed a grilled ham and cheese sandwich from a plate. "Chasity, I love that witch forum you told us about. There are so many friendly people on there."
Chasity smiled. "It's nice, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Sera said. "There are so many others like us—those who are just learning to use their powers. It's great to see a community supporting each other."
I cocked a brow. "Really?"
Sera grabbed a roll and slathered butter on it. I swear my sister could eat anything she wanted and never gained a pound—which was evident by her toned body. I hated her.
Not really, but you know, I seriously envied her.
"Dylan," Sera said, swallowing. "You should get on there and meet some witches. They're really nice, and they offer ti
ps for working magic. Some of them don't live far away, either. Reid and I have been talking about having lunch with some of them."
"You're kidding," I said.
"No. You need to meet them."
"I'll pass."
"Suit yourself," Reid said. She engaged Sera in some topic of conversation that probably had to do with meeting witches, effectively cutting me out.
Chasity turned to me. "I've been thinking about your problem."
I narrowed my eyes. "Which one?"
"The one where you don't have your magic."
Oh, that problem. I glanced over at the countdown clock that Pearbottom had left on the mantle. "Don't worry; I'll have my magic back in less than two weeks."
Chasity smiled. "It's hard to suddenly feel a void, isn't it? To have uncertainty looming over you—not knowing which way to turn. Do you go right? Left? Do you stand still and wait?"
"I'm thinking about standing and waiting. Every time I try to access my magic, I get blocked."
Chasity nodded. "No one can take your magic, and any roadblocks on the path to finding it can be overcome. You only have to push hard."
I shook my head. "I don't know. I feel like Pearbottom has set some kind of alarm in me. If I try to access my power, I think he'll know. Soon as he does, I'll be toast—no questions asked."
Chasity shrugged. "Okay. Whatever you think."
Her words permeated my brain like a damp cloth. Did that mean I had a choice? That Pearbottom hadn't really set some kind of alarm?
We finished up dinner, and I helped my sisters clean up. I was rinsing dishes alone while they tidied the table, still thinking about what Chasity had said.
"Looks like your brain's working overtime, darlin'. What'cha got to be worried about?" Roman sauntered up behind me and slid his hands over mine, plunging them into the soapy water. He leaned over and kissed the nape of my neck. I shivered.
"How are you holding up?" I said.
He sighed. Hot breath fingered through my hair. I exhaled, relaxing into the curve of his chest.
"I'm better now."
A rush of frustration built inside me. I yanked my hands from the water, turned around and smacked Roman square in the chest.
"Ow," he said. "What's that for?"
I fisted my hands on my hips. "That's for running off to Fairyland and almost getting killed. What were you thinking?"