by Amy Boyles
I pumped my eyebrows up and down. "It was better than them buying anything. They want to put on a fashion show."
She crossed to the lounging couch and copped a squat. "A fashion show? Here?"
"Yes, here in Silver Springs. Once all the murder business is wrapped up, of course. But they think it'll be a good way to introduce my clothes to the other witches in town."
"You mean the ones held captive by your boyfriend."
I clenched my hands. "Roman is not my boyfriend, and they're not being held captive exactly."
Sera shot me a look.
"Okay, so they are. But so are we. And I don't understand why you're so testy about it."
She sighed. "Sorry. I guess Grandma was getting on my nerves. I seem to have carried it over to you."
I shuffled the stack of bills on my desk and tapped them into a neat pile. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Just the usual. You know, talking about monkey kings and stuff. Things that are nerve grating."
Hmmm. Sounded like someone needed a little pick-me-up. "Want to go have some fun?"
Sera quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Is your kitchen fully stocked?"
"You know it."
I shouldered my purse and headed for the front door. "Come on. I'm about to show you some magic that's going to change your life."
I closed up Perfect Fit, and we walked the five feet to Sinless Confections. Main Street still buzzed. Another group of women bustled outside of Jenny's store. What was going on over there?
We entered Sinless Confections. Sunlight winked through the windows, beaming down on cheery red bar stools that butted the white glinting Formica countertop. It didn't smell like vanilla and coffee as it usually did, but the bakery still had a clean, lemony aroma that made me happy.
I palmed the opal in my pocket and said, "Okay. Let's whip something up with magic."
"Let me close the blinds first." Sera did that and crossed athletic arms over her chest. "What were you thinking?"
"What sort of food therapy would take your mind off talking flying monkeys?"
She giggled. "Maybe chocolate ganache?"
"Got some strawberries?"
She fisted the air in victory. "You know it."
"Now. I'm going to explain this like Grandma explained it to me several weeks ago, except we're going to work together. What we're going to do is pull all the ingredients out with magic and whip up the ganache without touching a single thing."
She cracked her knuckles together. "Okay. I'm ready."
Wow. I was impressed. Working with inanimate objects had intimidated me at first. "Have you been practicing?"
Sera shrugged. "Maybe."
Maybe my foot. She had been; she just didn't want to admit it. "Okay. You make the ganache. I'll prep the strawberries."
So we did. Using my magic, I opened the refrigerator door and picked up a basket of strawberries. I floated them to the counter and pulled out each individual berry. It tickled me to see them dance in the air, their little tassel tops waving as they twirled to the sink to be washed and then chopped.
We laughed; we giggled; we generally had a grand time. For once I controlled my magic. I didn't feel that it would explode out from me, or that I wouldn't be able to make it happen. It worked naturally and started to feel like a second skin. Granted, I needed to practice more than I did. Of course that would mean I had to come to terms with what I actually was—a witch. Not that I hadn't, but there were still so many prejudices against our kind—from Roman's inherited distaste because witches had killed his mother and sisters, to the unicorns and fairies in Fairyland.
I was thinking about this mostly, not really focusing on what Sera was doing—after all, she had the hard job, the cooking; I was only in charge of the washing and cutting—when I heard her shriek.
I twisted my head in her direction. "What is it?"
"I can't control them!"
What? My brain didn't register exactly what she was saying until I saw a copper pot, wooden spoon clanking away inside, tilting and twirling toward the front door.
"Sometimes they do that," I said calmly.
"Do what exactly?" she asked, barreling toward the dancing cookware.
"Have minds of their own. Don't worry; as long as no one opens the door, we should be fine." That was true. All I had to do was wipe their pea-sized memories clean and we'd be fine. Of course, I had to figure out how to do that, but I was pretty certain that with the help of the opal it could be done.
The door opened. Reid rushed inside. "Y'all, I can't take Grandma right now!"
"Reid! Shut the door," I said.
But she hadn't seen the magic-fueled pot. In fact, my little sister, whom I love and cherish above many, many things, left the door wide open. The pot took the perfect opportunity and zoomed right on outside for all of Silver Springs to see—correction, all nonmagics to see.
Which meant the council now had reason to boil me alive, since I'd broken a cardinal rule of witchery.
Crap. How did I get myself into these situations?
SIXTEEN
I found myself hanging upside down in a dark room with my arms bound behind me. I craned my neck to the right. Sera swayed next to me. Thank goodness. At least I wasn't alone, though it appeared both of us were bound with our mouths duct-taped shut.
My memory was a bit fuzzy, but I remembered everyone on Main saw the dancing pot and spoon. One person yelled something about David Blain being in town, an older woman fainted and others simply gaped. It was—no surprise here—a mess. The witches in town saw everything that happened, so blame was easily cast on, guess who? Me and Sera. Not that we weren't guilty, because we most certainly were, but not on purpose.
Didn't that count for something?
I don't remember anything after the screaming and gaping. Not sure how I came to be upside down in a dank room with dark wooden walls. The space was empty except for a leather wingback squarely in the center. A single slash of light focused on the chair.
I pivoted my neck to glance at Sera, who flashed me a look so full of worry it made frogs rain down in my stomach. If only I could reach the opal. If I got my fingers around it, I could concentrate on vanishing the duct tape. I figured that was safe. That couldn't get me in too much more trouble, could it? Now if I tried to escape, that would only make things much worse.
As I worked my wrist bindings, the air around the chair contracted. It shimmered like a thousand diamonds in an iridescent sea, and then a form took shape. That form became the body of Councilwoman Gladiolas.
She glowered at us. If I hadn't already been suspended from the ceiling, I'm pretty sure I would have shrunk into a ball. As it was, I really didn't have any lower to sink.
Gladiolas cleared her throat. "When I first heard about the power outage, I figured whoever had been stupid enough to make such a massive mistake was either a criminal or a very young witch." Her eyes slewed from Sera to myself at a snail's pace. "As you see, I found neither. But you're inexperienced, so I took that into account. However, this is another problem entirely. I've got a town of people who witnessed magic and who need their memories wiped, two homicides, and a couple of witches who seem to think it's perfectly acceptable to perform magic that can easily get out of control."
She paused. Was I supposed to say something in my defense? I couldn't since my mouth was taped shut. She still said nothing, so I decided to at least try to plead our innocence.
"Mmmm mmm mmm," I said. Yes, that's exactly how it sounded.
With a heavy sigh and even more dramatic roll of the eyes, Gladiolas swiped her hand across the air, and the duct tape vanished. I licked my lips. Ew. I do not recommend eating duct-tape residue. Gross.
"Did you wish to speak?" I have to say, the councilwoman could certainly put a tremendous amount of disdain and scorn in her voice when she wanted.
I swallowed. It felt like sandpaper scraping my vocal cords. "Yes. Well, um. I'm very sorry about what happened toda
y, but it was absolutely an accident. The pot wasn't meant to get out into town for everyone to see. The thing is, Sera showed up at my store all upset because our grandma was driving her up the wall. Wasn't she, Sera?"
Sera grunted her yes.
"See? And so like any good sister, I knew what mine needed to feel better. Chocolate. Isn't that what we all need sometimes? A little chocolate and our troubles don't seem so bad. So that's what we were doing—making a chocolate ganache. Well, Sera was. I wasn't. While she concocted the ganache, I cut the strawberries, and that's how the whole thing started." I took a breath. "I wanted Sera to see how to use her magic to Disney things up. You know, like Mary Poppins style. So that's what we were doing. I was teaching her the way to do it and of course, the pot got a mind of its own, which would have been fine, but my other sister, Reid, came in and then the pot flew out the door. Quite by accident, if I have to say. So you see, all of this is just a terrible misunderstanding."
My head swam. Using all that oxygen made me light-headed. The upside-down part didn't help with that either.
Gladiolas waved her hand, and Sera's tape vanished. "Is that true?"
Sera squeaked out a hoarse, "Yes."
I took a deep breath, inhaling the stale air of the room. Where were we, anyway? A basement? The faint scent of mildew wafted up my nose.
"Do both of you know why you're upside down?"
"Probably because you're going to make a huge cauldron of boiling water appear below us and dunk us in it in order to kill us," Sera said.
"Yes, that's the procedure," Gladiolas said.
Dang. I was hoping Sera's theory was way off base. "But you're not going to do that, right?" I said. "I mean, evil punishments like that are really only for witches who do magic in front of people on purpose. We're just idiots. We're not malicious."
One edge of her mouth curled. "From your telling of the story, it does seem that you didn't make me wipe the townspeople's memories because you were flaunting any magical abilities. However, it wouldn't be the first time that has happened, and I suspect it won't be the last."
I beamed. "Does this mean we're off the hook?" Like, literally?
She straightened the hem of her skirt. "I think it's curious that I've been called into situations the two of you have caused. It's an occurrence I'd like to stop. Too many more of these and the other council members will get wind of it. If rumors catch fire in the council, I won't be able to save you."
"So then, why are we hanging upside down? Just to scare us into being like crazy straightlaced, even though we already are?" I said.
She frowned. Or was that a smile? I was upside down, so my perspective had gone super wacko.
"Because that's what the witches who brought you here did to you," Gladiolas said.
"Did they wipe our memories? Because I don't know how I got here," I said.
"Yeah," Sera said, sounding überperturbed. "I don't remember either."
Gladiolas shifted. Was she uncomfortable? How about she try dangling from the ceiling like a side of beef in a meat locker? Perhaps that would offer a new perspective.
"Since a pot had to be tackled and memories erased, I assume yours are casualties of that tiny war," she said.
"A tiny war? Out on Main Street?"
Gladiolas's gaze shifted from side to side. "Yes."
"Sorry about that," I said.
"I wouldn't assume otherwise," she said. "But you know, this must be kept from certain people—"
"You mean Pearbottom," I offered.
"Yes. Him." She wrinkled her nose. At least I think she did. "If he were to discover you did this, I'd have no choice but to punish you to the full extent of the law."
"But you're not going to," Sera said.
"No."
I cleared my throat. "Okay, well if there's nothing else you need from us here, I think we're ready to be released. We'll just go about our way, not make any waves, all that jive."
Gladiolas snapped her fingers. Sera vanished in a plume of smoke.
"Hey! What'd you do with my sister?"
"She's safe at your house." She snapped her fingers again, and I found myself standing on the floor, my bindings removed. I teetered a bit—you know, with all the discombobulation of going from upside down to right-side up—but I didn't fall over. I scored that a win.
"Am I released?"
"Not quite," she said. Gladiolas skimmed her index fingers over her ears and down to the point of her chin. "You're friends with Roman Bane."
This was not a question. "I am. I assume you already know that since you had me fetch him for you last time I saw him."
"Fetch him?" she asked as if I'd used the wrong word.
I picked at a troublesome cuticle on my ring finger. "You know. You asked me to get him for you. So I did."
"And you know of his past, his history—what we believe about him?"
That's why I was terrified to let him know you wanted to see him. "I'm aware." Yes, because I'm a great big old chicken, I didn't say anything else.
"And you're still friends with him?"
"I don't believe he committed the murder."
She dropped her hands to her lap. Her left eye twitched twice, and she said, "You may go."
"Is that it? I'm off the hook?"
"For now."
I glanced around the dank room. I swore I heard water dripping onto a concrete floor. "Um. How do I get out of here?"
"Oh." She snapped her fingers, and I found myself in the children's room of the Silver Springs Public Library. The walls were lined with bookshelves only chest-high. Lots of board books and Dr. Seuss. I squinted at Gladiolas.
She shrugged. "The room was open. What do you expect? I'd whisk you off to Dracula's castle and torture you?"
Yes. "No, of course not. Why go there when you could torture me while brushing up on Green Eggs and Ham?"
She scowled. I grinned.
"I'll walk you out," she said. The smart watch on her wrist bleeped. "Wait." I paused while she scrolled through the message. "I won't be walking out with you after all. Listen, I needed to talk to Roman but won't be able to do it now. Can you get a message to him for me?"
Of course. I was drooling to know what they'd talked about back at Balmore. I mean, come on, dying to know. "Sure," I said casually. "I'll tell him."
She pursed her lips and chewed them together in thought. "It really isn't appropriate, but I have to go."
Dying. To. Know. "Of course. I'll track him down right after I leave."
"If it wasn't an emergency, I would tell him myself."
"Absolutely." Would you please just tell me, lady?
"But since you're here and you know him well enough—and, let's be honest; you're not going to ruin your reputation with the council, not since you know we're watching you like a hawk…" She narrowed her face into a stern expression.
I raised my finger and gave her the good ole pinky swear. "Definitely not."
"In that case, I suppose it wouldn't be the end of the world if I had you deliver the message."
I tapped my foot like a tone-deaf person at a banjo hoedown. Just tell me! "Sure. Like I said, I'll get it to him lickety-split. You know, you could do that head-appearing trick that Pearbottom used." What was I saying? Didn't I want to know what Gladiolas had to tell him?
She shook her head. "No. I don't like apparition magic. It's not a secure line. Well, you saw. Anyone can be in the room at the time of your message and you don't know it."
I smiled brightly. "Well, then I'm your girl."
"Okay." She clamped a hand around my arm and pulled me to her. Large brown eyes filled my gaze. She glanced from side to side as if to make sure that no one else had slipped into the children's section when she hadn't been looking. "Tell him that I need to meet with him."
I nodded, confused. "Okay. I'll tell him that."
She squeezed my arm with a talon-like grip. "Not only that, but I have information about a certain subject we were discussing."
; I went over it in my head. "All right. I'll tell him you need to meet with him about a certain subject that I'm sure he knows all about?" I wiggled my eyebrows.
She released my arm and nodded. "Roman will know exactly what I mean. Don't delay. He'll want that message."
"I'll deliver it right now." We both crossed to the door. "Um. Gladiolas?"
She stopped, twisted her head to look at me. "Yes?"
"This message is that important?"
She gave me a weak smile. "It is."
"Oh," I said. "Why's that?"
She tucked her purse under her arm. "Because the information I have might just save Roman's life."
SEVENTEEN
I rushed to the police station, but of course Roman was out. He was probably breaking up a riot of witches or something.
I had walked to the station and now had to walk home. Unfortunately it was hot as blazes outside. I was walking under a canopy of trees, fanning my face with a small notepad I kept in my purse, when someone approached. She skirted down the street as if afraid for her life. It took me a moment to realize who it was.
"Sumi, are you okay?"
Sumi Umi looked like she wanted to scamper up a tree. "Oh, Dylan, it's only you."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
She bristled. "How could you not scare me? I'm terrified for my life. My sister's dead. My aunt's dead. Obviously I'm next on someone's hit list."
"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"
She pulled a handkerchief from her black clutch and dabbed pearly tears from the corner of each eye. "I've lost my family in only a few days, and yet I'm forced to stay here and be constantly reminded that the killer is walking around scot-free. They need to lock that Stormy Hellsmount up."
"What if it wasn't her?"
Sumi's back stiffened. "Of course it's her! Who else would do that?"
"I don't know. Someone else." Even though I'd found the heart in the box, I still felt that Stormy was innocent in all this.
"Sorry. I have to go. I've got funeral arrangements to make."
Sorrow tugged at my heart. I felt unbearably sorry for Sumi, even if she was a gossip queen. "Okay. Bye."