Witch My Grits (Bless Your Witch Book 7)

by Amy Boyles

  Roman pulled the wallet from his pocket. “Have you been missing this?”

  Dave’s dark eyes widened. He raked his fingers through his short hair. “Yeah. I put it in here this morning because I didn’t need it in my tux. You know, who gets married with their wallet in their pocket?”

  “I wouldn’t,” I said.

  Dave nodded. “Exactly. But when I got back to the room, it was gone.”

  Roman nodded but said nothing.

  Dave’s eyes volleyed from the wallet to Roman’s face. He rocked back on his heels as if a lightbulb were flashing brightly in his brain.

  “Where’d you say you found it, again?”

  “I didn’t,” Roman said.

  “But where was it?”

  Roman pinched his fingers together and ran them along the lip of the sealed bag. “Found it in Lilly Grand’s room.”

  Dave rubbed his face. “She stole it?”

  Roman shook his head. “It was sitting out on a dresser. If she’d stolen it, don’t you think she would’ve taken the time to hide it?”

  Dave unbuttoned his collar and yanked his tie. Nervous-looking body posture. That wasn’t good. I hadn’t picked up on a lot of things when I helped Roman, but one thing I could pinpoint was nervous behavior—and this guy had it. In my book that meant he had something to hide.

  Dave tossed the tie onto his bed. “I don’t know what that crazy lady would’ve done. Lilly was wacko. Seriously psycho. Went around telling everyone she was a witch and could work magic. But the only magic she managed to work was getting killed at my wedding.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and tapped his fingers. “Look, I don’t know how my wallet got in her room, but if you’re thinking I somehow left it there, you’re wrong. I never had anything to do with that woman. She was certifiably loony.”

  I crossed my arms. “Then how do you think it got there? Magic?”

  Dave laughed. “That’s something. No. It got there because that crazy bird sneaked into my room, took it and then placed it there. There’s no telling why she did it. Did she want to screw up my marriage? Maybe. Lilly was always stirring up trouble.”

  “Why would she want to ruin your marriage?” Roman said.

  Dave tightened his hands into fists. “Because that’s the sort of thing Lilly would’ve done. Couldn’t be happy for someone else, so she’d try to ruin what they had. Look, one time that girl went around telling everyone she’d had a thing with this guy who’d just gotten engaged. They had been together, but it was years ago. That girl was nothing but a drama queen.”

  “A drama queen with enemies?” I said.

  Roman’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Victory! He would let me speak without getting too angry.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what she was. A drama queen. If my wallet was in her bedroom, she stole it to make me look bad.”

  Roman walked around, seeming to eye the furnishings. “You’re saying she would do that just because she liked to stir up trouble.”

  Dave nodded. “Ask anyone here. That’s what Lilly was like. Ask Rose. She can tell you. And if you need any specimens from me, I’ll be happy to give them, because I didn’t do anything.”

  “Specimens?” I said.

  Roman and Dave both stared me down until I felt my cheeks flush. “Oh! That kind of specimen. Oh, okay. Gotcha. I understand.” I giggled nervously. “Hopefully we won’t need that kind of thing, but we’ll be in touch.”

  Roman shook his head at me. “We’ll be around. Find me if you discover anything else interesting about Lilly.”

  “Will do,” Dave said.

  We left and slowly walked down the hall. I spoke first. “Well, I don’t know about you, but that was very informative. That Dave guy really set the stage for Lilly being a bad egg.”

  Roman ran a thumb down his jaw. “You think?”

  “Definitely. Listen, I can tell you that Lilly also ruined Mrs. Wood’s face.”

  Roman raked his fingers through his blond locks. “Ruined for good?”

  “Hard to say. But she was definitely working with some sort of cream that got out of hand. Could have been a revenge killing.”

  Roman chuckled. “You’ve got this one all figured out, huh?”

  I clicked my tongue. “You know it, handsome.”

  Roman smiled. “Call me that again.”

  I rocked my hips into his. “Handsome.”

  He wrapped an arm over my shoulders and said, “Let’s go grab some food.”

  We entered the reception tent to a somber affair. Folks were eating their meals quietly. Very few spoke. The air was still, heavy. The weight of Lilly's death blanketed me like a sheet of steel pushing on my body.

  I gulped down a shot of air.

  Roman’s phone chirped. “My team needs me. I need to meet with them and see where they are.” He kissed my forehead. “Save me a seat.”

  My heart swelled at his touch. “Will do.”

  I scanned the buffet but didn’t see anything that appealed to me. The fact that someone had pointed the finger at me was beginning to knot my stomach. With Roman gone I had time to think about things, chew on them, and what I realized was that I didn’t like any of this one bit.

  I found an empty table and sank into a chair.

  Jenny Butts, Mouth of the South and otherwise completely annoying person, appeared in front of me. “Y’all, y’all, y’all. Dylan Apel, I can’t believe we’ve both been here all day and I haven’t seen you, not once.”

  I rubbed at the worry lines on my forehead, flattening them out. “Jenny, there’s no y’all here. It’s just me.”

  Jenny pumped her platinum Marilyn Monroe curls. “Oh, I know, Dylan. It’s a figure of speech.”

  “Whose?”

  She giggled. “Mine, of course. Mind if I sit down?”

  “Actually—”

  She scooted into a chair before I had a chance to finish telling her to buzz off. “Dylan, it’s just so horrid what happened to that mermaid-haired girl. That Lilly? Awful. And to think someone stuck a sewing needle in her back. And I heard you’d been using that needle only a little bit before.”

  My hackles rose. “I had used it earlier, yes, but I gave it to my grandmother.”

  Jenny’s mouth formed an O. “So do you think your grandmother did it?”

  Heat flared on my skin, splotching my neck. “Jenny, why the heck would a seventy-year-old woman murder Lilly?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not an investigator. All I know is what I’ve heard—that you had the murder weapon, and now you’re telling me your grandmother had the murder weapon. I’m only saying what you’ve told me. Also seems like Lilly was a witch? What a riot. Witches don’t exist.”

  That was funny coming from Jenny, because a few months back she’d discovered that I was a witch. Now, it was a big no-no to let folks know what you were—witches, that is. So I’d ended up swiping Jenny’s memory so that she forgot everything about it.

  Seems like I’d done a pretty good job.

  “But you know, Dylan, what’s so crazy is that I heard that she had this man who she really loved but she couldn’t be with. Like, really couldn’t be with. Anyway, apparently Lilly wanted to be with him so badly she became a witch. That way she could work spells so they could be together.”

  “What?”

  Jenny nodded. “Y’all, I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what I heard.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Jenny, I don’t think you can just choose to be a witch. You probably have to be born with some sort of ability.”

  Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think that’s how Wiccans work.”

  “Lilly wasn’t a Wiccan.”

  Jenny ran a finger under her cherry-red lip. “What makes you say that?”

  I fumbled to find something to say. “Because Lilly didn’t talk about being Wiccan. I think she only spoke about being a witch.”

  Jenny leaned forward, her eyes shining brightly. “So you did he
ar that she was a witch.”

  “I guess.”

  Jenny’s gaze flashed around the room until they landed on someone. “Deidre! Deidre, come over here, girl!”

  I glanced around until my eyes settled on the bridesmaid, Deidre—the one Lilly had given a zit to.

  Deidre, still in her burnt amber–colored gown, came over. “Hey, Jenny.”

  Jenny stroked Deidre’s arm. “Honey, are you okay? I heard that witch tried to put a hex on you.”

  I rolled my eyes as Deidre softly touched the small mound that had sprouted on her chin. “It’s only a zit. Thank goodness I don’t have to be in any wedding pictures. I’d hate for this monster to show up.”

  I leaned forward and inspected the pink spot. “It’s not that bad. I think it’s going down.”

  Deidre smacked her glossy lips. “It was horrible earlier. I swear, that woman was awful. Giving zits to unsuspecting people.”

  Jenny nodded. “I know. Just makes you want to kill someone, doesn’t it?”

  I frowned. Since when did Jenny start playing detective?

  Deidre shook her head. “Of course not. Why would I want to kill her for that?”

  Jenny shrugged one shoulder. “No clue. But if someone permanently scarred me, I might want to murder them. Y’all know it’s true.”

  I frowned. “We’re talking about zits, Jenny. Not marring a person for life.”

  “Whatever,” Jenny said. “Practically the same thing. I mean, if you pick at the pimple and it then becomes a scar, then you’ve had a serious alteration to your face.”

  Jenny’s conversation was irritating me so much I barely noticed a slight trickle from my hands. At first it felt like water was flowing over my skin, which was weird, since we were sitting in a tent. But the feeling got so intense that curiosity got the better of me.

  I glanced over the lip of the table and gasped. Power was flowing from my hands, literally leaking out—in broad daylight where anyone could see.

  I jumped from my chair.

  Jenny rose. “Dylan, are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. “I’m fine.”

  Deidre held out her arm. “Seriously. You look pale.”

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  I closed my hands and fisted them to my chest.

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, what’s going on?”

  Magic trickled from me in a wave of pink mixed with purple. I quickly threw my hands behind my back. “It’s nothing, Jenny. Seriously.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” she said.

  Heat grazed over my skin. I started to slink away but felt everyone’s eyes on me. “It’s nothing,” I yelled. “Nothing.”

  But it was something. I turned and ran, knowing that the entire room had just witnessed my magic.

  SEVEN

  I rushed back toward my room. I met Judd the caretaker in the hallway.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. “May I be of assistance?”

  While keeping my hands well behind my back and praying that not one trace of magic seeped out where he could see, I flashed him a huge grin.

  “No, everything’s fine,” I said, more chipper than even the chipperest of birds.

  “Let me know if I can help,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  I ran past him and reached the bedroom. I turned the knob. My stomach knotted as a trail of magic trickled from my fingers. After I shoved the door open, I slammed it behind me, wedging my back against the wood.

  “Having problems, toots?” Milly sat at the checker table, rubbing one of the white dragons on the head.

  I thrust my hands in front of me. “Something’s wrong. My magic is leaking out of me. I’m dying! I don’t know what the problem is.”

  Milly caned over to me at a snail’s pace. Thank goodness my life didn’t actually depend on her saving it, because Lord knew it wouldn’t be until the next year before she reached me at the rate she was waddling.

  “Sit down,” she commanded. “Let me take a look at you.”

  I edged onto the bed.

  “You look like death, kid. Calm down. Breathe deep.”

  I gulped down a pocket of air and held my hand over my heart, willing it to stop jackhammering against my rib cage.

  “Hold out your hands.”

  I placed my fingers in Milly’s withered palm. Though brown patches covered her thinning skin, the woman had a grip like steel. She closed her eyes. Her lids fluttered and she inhaled deeply.

  “You’ve got the bad mojo,” she whispered.

  “Is that an official term?” I said.

  “Shhh.”

  I zipped my lips and waited, wondering what the heck she was doing. Was she seeing with some sort of third eye? Was she sensing what was going on? What was the deal?

  Milly blinked after a few seconds and said, “Well, it looks like someone’s after you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I told you someone was setting me up.”

  Milly smirked. “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about your magic.”

  I glanced down at my fingers. They were still leaking power out onto the floor. A stream of magic wafted over to a dress I’d left on a chair. Power swirled around the gown and suddenly—

  “Holy crap! It’s moving!”

  The blue evening dress rose from the chair. It paused, arms extended, and then it twirled and spun around the room. It looked as if it were dancing with an imaginary partner. Next thing I knew, the gown lurched forward. I put my hands out to stop it, but my magic just kept leaking out. I couldn’t control it.

  Milly raised a hand. “Cease!”

  Magic sprayed from her fingers, heading straight for the gown. The straight line of liquid silvery power made a beeline for the dress. At the last second Milly’s magic veered left, splashing against the wall.

  “Gown must’ve stopped it,” she murmured.

  The dress shuddered. It stopped dancing, standing stock-still in the middle of the room. Then it crossed to the window, pushed up the glass and leaped out.

  “Oh no,” I squealed.

  I charged to the opening, forced back the curtains, and watched as the dress sprinted across the lawn, heading for a grove of trees along the back of the property.

  I sank onto a chair. “This is horrible.”

  Milly poked her nose out the window. “Nah. It would be worse if the dress was hanging around. But it decided to leave. Did you a favor.”

  I raised my limp arms and let them fall. “What’s going on?”

  The door banged open. Grandma stood framed by Sera and Reid. “I’ll tell you what’s going on—there’s a witch on the loose who’s heck-bent on blaming you for this crime.”

  I rubbed my head. “But why?”

  “Duh, moron,” Reid said. “So that you go to prison instead of her, obviously. And to be honest, it’s beginning to look bad for you. I’m already planning how I’m going to redecorate your room.”

  “What?” I shrieked.

  Reid blinked. “Oh, not because you’re going to prison. But I figure you’ll be marrying Roman pretty soon and then the room will be all mine.”

  “Can you please be normal for five minutes and cool it about me getting married?” I snarled.

  “You might need inside help,” Grandma said. “Because a lot’s going wrong here. Now, let’s take a look at those hands of yours.”

  I handed her my leaking fingers. She turned them back and forth. My grandma peered closer, getting close enough to smell my skin.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Listening. Seeing what your hands tell me.”

  I shot Sera a look. She shrugged. “I mean, are you surprised?” she said.

  I shook my head. “No, I guess not. So, Grandma, what are my hands telling you?”

  “That a witch did this to them. If I don’t stop the leaking, the magic-generating part of you will burn up.”

  I spit out the bit of lip I was chewing. “What are you talking about? The mag
ic-generating part of me? I thought magic was based on physics and it couldn’t be created or destroyed.”

  Grandma poked the air. “That’s correct. Magic cannot be, but the part of you that uses the magic can. Your magical core, so to speak. Right now it’s on overtime. It’s working around the clock to keep producing magic. If we don’t stop it, it will burn out and you won’t be able to do magic anymore.”

  I groaned, dropping my head onto the chair’s neck. “Could my life get any more complicated?”

  Grandma sniffed. “Dylan, life is complicated. It moves forward and on, whether you like it or not. If you don’t pay attention, one day you’ll wake up old like me. But since you won’t be married, you won’t have a gaggle of grandchildren to keep you young and spry. Instead you’ll be living in an old folk’s home surrounding by the scent of Polident.”

  “Ew. That’s a nice visual,” Reid said.

  “Let’s get back to the task at hand. Dylan, someone’s putting magic on you. They weren’t content with only placing the note, now they’re trying to use up your magic, sabotage you.”

  I scoffed. “But why? Reid and Sera are witches, too. So are the both of you. I’m not the only witch here, and I’m not even that good at the craft.”

  Grandma shrugged. “I have no clue. Let’s just hope the tiny dragons sniff out the culprit before it’s too late. In the meantime, let me see what I can do about this curse put upon you.”

  “Curse?” The word sent a blanket of fear over me. “I’ve been cursed?”

  Grandma bobbed her head. “Don’t let it upset you. It’s only a word. I could’ve said hexed or even vilified.”

  “Vilified?” Sera said. “Are you sure that’s what you mean?”

  Grandma pushed up her sleeves and shook her head. “Whatever, as you girls say to me. I meant bad things. Now let’s take a look at those hands again.”

  Grandma gave me another once-over. She raised her index finger. A light shone on the tip. It looked like a small bulb igniting her from within. She poked the finger down on both my hands. A few moments later, my magic stopped leaking.

  A tingle washed up my skin. I flexed my fingers and rubbed them over each hand. “Thank you,” I said.