by Amy Boyles
I reached into my pants pocket and palmed the stone. "It's helped me more than I can say."
He dipped his head. "Good. Don't forget my warning about it."
"I haven't. Keep it away from other opals. The two must never touch."
He bobbed his head once more, and with a wave of his horn, he vanished.
Roman folded the paper and slid it into his pocket. "I need Gladiolas and one other witch to give them extra protection." He glanced at Milly. "Can you help me with that?"
Milly rose. "I will. Mind a little vanishing act?"
Roman glanced around the room wearily. "No, I suppose not."
I smiled at him. "For a guy who doesn't like witches, you sure seem to be spending a lot of time with them."
"Hazard of the job," he said. "Goes with the territory." He crossed to me and squeezed my hand. "See you soon."
"Be safe," I said.
Milly snorted. "If you two are finished playing lovey-dovey, we've got some spells to put into place. I'll be lucky to get a minute of sleep tonight by the time this is all over."
I studied her hawkish face. "Yes, and you need your beauty sleep."
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, toots."
"I won't."
"Ready?" Milly said to Roman.
"Readier than I'll ever be."
She waved a hand, and they both disappeared.
Grandma sighed, lowering into a chair. "Well, it looks like the two of us will be able to get some beauty sleep. Thank goodness. I need as much as I can get. These old bones don't work the way they used to." She adjusted the scarf around her neck. "Too bad I don't have a potion that I can drink and zap—have all the beauty sleep I need."
I stretched out my arms. "Yes, too bad. Maybe you should check your purse. Perhaps someone snuck one in there," I joked.
Grandma reached for her bag. "You think so?"
"No, Grandma. I'm kidding. I don't think anyone snuck a vial in there."
She rested the purse in her lap and kneaded the mouth of it with nimble fingers. "You mean like Jean Noir did to Stormy?"
My back stiffened. "What did you say?"
"I said, like Jean Noir probably did to Stormy. You don't think that girl made that potion, did you?"
"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it."
Grandma swatted the air. "You don't have to even think about it to smell out the truth of that one."
Something nudged the back of my mind. With everything that had happened in the last few days, the Rolodex that was my brain seemed to be bursting at the seams, but I tried to recall something Stormy had said.
I snapped my fingers. "That's it," I exclaimed. "Stormy didn't make that potion. In fact, she told me days ago that she was terrible at potion making. I'll have to tell Roman when he returns. Grandma, you're a genius!"
"Well of course I am. It's only too bad."
I didn't have a good feeling about that. "What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "Too many fingers pointing at that girl with no arrest is bad, bad business. The court of public opinion may just take over on this one and burn her at the stake whether Roman arrests her or not."
"Are you kidding?"
"No. Afraid not. I've seen it happen before, and we've got a recipe in the making for it. Take one cast of disgruntled witches and add one freed troublemaker—poof, a firestorm awakens."
"What can we do?"
"Nothing we can do."
I gnashed my teeth. Roman would be gone for the night, if not all day tomorrow. By the time he came back, it might be too late. No no no. This was bad. Stormy couldn't be tarred and feathered by the other witches. That couldn't happen. Not on my watch.
"Grandma," I said, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice.
"I don't like how you said that."
I threw my arms over her bony shoulders. "Grandma. Remember how you were saying back in your day you were awesome at glamours?"
"Of course. How could I forget something like that?" She plumped the ends of her hair.
"Do you think you can put a glamour on me?" I gave her a wide smile that probably looked a little too desperate, but hey, I was a bit desperate.
Her gaze washed from my head to my feet. "What exactly are you thinking?"
I licked my lips. "I'm thinking we need to conjure the ghost of Christmas past."
She straightened her tiara and smiled. "Tell me your plan."
***
Grandma transported us outside Balmore. We stood in the shadows, discussing how things were going to go down.
"Do you think you can find Jean's room?" I asked.
Grandma scoffed. "Of course. I didn't start doing witchcraft only yesterday."
"Great. Can you find it now?"
Grandma rested both sets of fingers on each temple and closed her eyes. She hummed for a moment. I guessed she was getting on the right frequency or something. Her body glowed faintly, as if she's swallowed a lightning bug or perhaps toxic waste. A snore erupted from her nose, and for a second my hopes sank. She'd fallen asleep. It had been foolish of me to hinge my hopes on Grandma.
Her eyes popped open. I nearly jumped into a line of hedges. "Don't do that! You scared me half to death."
She patted my hand. "There, there, dear. You have to get used to witchy things. It'll take some time, but you'll settle down about it."
"I doubt it," I mumbled. "What'd you just do?"
"Why, I left my body. What else?"
Right. What else? It wasn’t as if she hadn't looked like she was taking a nap or anything. "Where'd you go?"
She wiggled her fingers toward the building. "Inside the manor to scope it out."
"What'd you discover?"
"She's in room nine."
"Does she have a roommate?"
Grandma scowled. "Would you want to room with her?"
"I guess that answers that. Great." I exhaled. "Okay. Are you ready to do this?"
She rubbed her palms together. "Now, I'll do my best to get the voice right, but I'm going on memory here."
"Let's just hope the image will be enough to scare her so she won't focus on the voice."
"Try to be nosy; that should help," Grandma said.
Right. Sound nosy. Easier said than done.
She plucked the scarf away from her neck. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
She grasped my hands in hers. They were warm and immediately sent a pulse of comfort through my core. "Don't be afraid. This may tickle a little bit. Close your eyes."
I did as she said. Closed my eyes and waited. A warm cloud of energy washed over me. It did, indeed, tickle a bit, but I squished my lips together and did my best not to laugh.
"All done. See what you think."
I held my breath, opened my eyes and yanked my compact from my purse. I snapped it open and stared at the face that reflected back at me. A shallow pool of light beamed off the flood lamp from the back of the manor. My face was older, with smoker's wrinkles around the lips and deep lines on either side of the mouth. A short brown bob fringed my face. I smiled. Grandma had made me look exactly like Loretta Umi.
It was go time.
I closed the compact and slipped it back inside my purse. "Okay. You coming with me?"
"Of course."
"No talking once we get inside. I'll go into Jean's room. You wait outside. Now, we need a signal in case someone approaches and they're going to barge in on me."
Grandma nodded absently. "A signal."
"Grandma, you're going to be the one giving the signal."
"I am?"
I sighed. "Yes. You'll be waiting outside the room watching for intruders. If someone approaches and starts asking questions, you need to alert me so that I can sneak out of the room. So you have to give the signal."
"Okay."
Long pause. "What sort of sound do you want to make for the signal?"
"Oh! You want me to do it!"
"Yes, Grandma." I almost slapped my forehead in fr
ustration, but I reminded myself that if my grandmother had ever done something covert, it had been a long time ago. Long enough for her to forget how things were done.
"I'll caw like a bird."
"You'll caw like a bird," I repeated.
She smiled brightly. "Yes. Do you like that?"
"Sounds awesome. Let's get inside."
Grandma managed to unlock the back door with a bit of magic, and we sneaked up the stairs to Jean's room. I gave her a nod and pressed my finger to my lips, reminding my grandmother to be quiet as I went inside to play my part. Grandma smiled.
I turned the knob and slipped inside.
Darkness blanketed the room. Jean lay in a crumple on the bed, the sheets twisted around her body. She snored peacefully, and I hoped it wouldn't take too much to wake her. I scanned the room as I waited for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Her basket of bottles lay on the desk, neatly organized. I placed a chair beside the bed, near Jean's head.
I paused, unsure of how best to go about the whole thing, but then I decided that the best thing to do would be to throw myself into it.
"Jean Noir," I whispered.
The snoring hesitated and I thought she might waken, but then it started right back up.
"Jean Noir," I said, a little louder.
Jean continued to sleep.
I exhaled. Oh well, might as well go for broke. I took her by the shoulder and gave her a good jerk. "Jean Noir!"
She snorted, hiccuped and opened one sleepy eye. Now the technicalities of what I was doing hadn't struck me until right then. What if Jean knew I wasn't Loretta, only someone using a glamour? What if she grabbed me by the hair and forced me to reveal myself? Why, oh why hadn't I thought of any of this until now?
The opal.
I patted around in my pocket until I found the stone and rubbed it while focusing on Jean staying in a dreamy state. I needed her to be awake but not too awake in order for this whole madness to work.
Boy, I hoped Roman didn't find out about this. I'd be in some big trouble.
"Jean," I whispered.
"What? Who is it?" she mumbled.
"It's me."
Jean opened what appeared to be heavy lids. "Who?"
"Loretta Umi."
Her eyes popped open. Panic flooded my chest. I rubbed the opal, and though Jean's eyes stayed open, she seemed to settle into a half-lucid, half-dream state.
This was pretty cool. Here I stood pretending to be a dead woman. Moved by the bizarre situation, I fell into my role of murdered victim. "Jean Noir, why did you put that vial in Stormy's bag?" I said in a spooky, eerie voice.
Jean shook her head. "I never—I didn't."
"You did," I said, towering over her. "Why are you blaming an innocent for my death? Stormy didn't kill me."
Jean cowered. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't want to kill you."
Excuse me?
She pulled the blanket up to her nose. "The trollop flower was supposed to upset your stomach, not kill you." Jean sobbed into her pillow. "I'm so sorry. I hated you, but I didn't mean to kill you. I'm terrible at making potions."
"You killed Loretta," I whispered.
"What?"
"I mean, me. You killed me," I murmured. "Then you gave the bottle to Stormy."
Jean whimpered, closed her eyes tight. "I couldn't let them find it on me. I just couldn't. I'd vanished it during the first search, but doing it drained my power. I couldn't keep it hidden forever, so I planted it on her."
"And then you killed Margaret?"
"No," she said, her eyes wild with fright. "Never. Not her."
I sat back. So there it was. Holy crap. That was all I needed to know. Wait till I found Roman. I'd solved the case! Well, half a case. I still didn't know who killed Margaret. Woo-hoo! I was awesome at this. I rubbed the opal again, focusing on putting Jean to sleep. Within a few seconds, peaceful snoring shrouded the room.
I replaced the chair and ducked out of the room as quietly as I could. "That went well," I said to Grandma.
"Great," came a voice from behind me.
I whirled around to find Em, barefoot and wrapped in a robe, leaning against the wall.
My throat went dry.
She smacked her lips. "I can't wait to hear what you're doing in Jean Noir's room in the middle of the night looking like Loretta Umi."
I braced a hand against the doorjamb. "You probably can't wait."
"And just what's that mean?" she asked, her tone drenched in annoyance.
I took a deep breath and gave Em a harsh glare. "It means you need to have Jean Noir arrested."
TWENTY-FOUR
The next morning, downtown buzzed with witches. You could almost see the collective sigh of relief as they relaxed after hearing the news of Jean Noir's admission. Roman was still out of town as far as I knew, and Jean hadn't admitted to Margaret's murder, which made things a bit more complicated, but still, everyone seemed happier about town. I had to say, I felt pretty good myself. After all, I'd pretty much single-handedly gotten the killer to confess.
How's about them apples?
The bell above the door of Perfect Fit tinkled. I looked up from the rack of clothing I was rearranging and smiled as Judy floated in.
"Everything's all set up for the fashion show tonight. How are things on your end?"
"Great," I said. "I've got the dresses organized. I just need bodies to put them on."
Judy nodded. "I'll make sure the girls are here by six. Your sister offered to make refreshments. Those will be served around the same time, and then we'll get started."
"Awesome. I'm looking forward to it."
"So," Judy said, looking around as if to make sure no one could hear us. Not a problem since the store happened to be empty. "What do you think about the whole thing with Jean being arrested?"
"Well”—I leaned forward as if sharing a great secret—"from what I understand, she confessed."
She shook her head. "I never would have placed my bets on her. Sure, she's a terrible potion maker, but murder? I wouldn't have thought it."
"From what I hear, it was an accident."
She arched a perfectly manicured brow. "Now that makes more sense." Judy pulled a handkerchief from her breast pocket and dabbed her neck. "Well, I'm glad to see the whole thing dealt with."
"Have some of the women left already?"
She threaded a finger through her bangs. "A few. Many are staying for the fashion show. They really want to see what you have to offer." She beamed, a twinkle sparkling in her eyes. "So we've got to give them a great spectacle. I for one am excited. I hope you are, too."
"You know it. I haven't been this excited since…well, in a while. We've selected all my best dresses."
"Great." She fished a compact from her purse and powdered her nose. "Anyway, I'll be back tonight. See you then." Judy snapped the lid shut and headed for the front door.
I waved as she left. "Bye."
I returned to the dresses and pulled a few more from the rack I was riffling through. The bell over the door tinkled again. I stepped out from the clothes and said, "Welcome to Perfect Fit."
"Well, Dylan Apel, am I glad to see you."
Jenny Butts stood in the entryway, arms crossed and one hip jutted out. She wore a white sheath dress and red sandals. She was getting on her Alabama Crimson Tide football colors a little early, if you asked me. Football didn't start until September, and it was still July. All right, if you want to know the truth, I root for the other Alabama team, the one whose colors are—God forbid in a Crimson town like Silver Springs—orange and blue.
"Hey, Jenny, you shopping for some clothes?"
Jenny ran a finger across the top of a cotton T-shirt. "No. I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday."
"Oh, that."
"Yes, that. Dylan, I know it may be hard for you to understand, but I'm running a successful class here. I have all these new clients who want to know how to capture a man."
"Right, and I
suppose you're the best person to teach them?"
She smacked her hands against her thighs. "Of course I am! Who else in town is going to teach these poor, unfortunate ladies how to catch Mr. McDreamy?"
"I don't know, someone who's married?"
She flashed a fake smile and threaded the shirt off the hanger. She yanked it over her dress and crossed to the three-way mirror on the back wall. "If someone like that had stepped up, that would have been fabulous. But it's just little old me, trying to save the lonely hearts of Silver Springs one person at a time."
I marched over to her. "Listen, Jenny, if you want me to say it's okay for you to teach Reid how to nab a guy, I'm sorry, but I'm not going to agree to that. You and I both know you live for any little wedge of gossip that falls into your lap, simply so that you can spread it around town. Do I want my little sister learning the ways of love from the likes of you? No thanks."
Jenny twisted her body left and right as she eyed the shirt. I had to admit, it looked great on her thin, curvy body. It was probably a small. If I'd been wearing it, I would need a medium for all the boobs and waist I had. Not that I was complaining. I liked my curves, just not all the time.
"Look, Dylan, I know she's your little sister and you think that means you've got some sort of weirdo claim on her, but Reid's her own person with her own feelings and wants."
"I don't need a lecture from you about my sister."
Jenny pulled the shirt over her head and handed it to me as if I were the maid. She fingered her curls back in place and said, "Oh no? Why don't you go look out the window. See what you see."
Frowning, I crossed to the front of the store and peered out onto Main. The door to Butterfly Days, the children's store, swung open, and two older women set off down the street. They walked no faster than molasses dripping off a stick. Who could blame them? It was already ninety degrees out there.
My gaze swept to the other side. A man sat outside of Java Joe's, enjoying an iced coffee. Nothing of interest there. Finally my eyes settled on the new brick-oven pizza place. Reid stood outside, sipping from a Styrofoam cup. She tilted her face up and smiled…at Rick, our next-door neighbor.
My heart pounded. I knew Reid had a thing for Rick, knew she thought he was good-looking. I mean, only a blind person wouldn't think Rick was hot. Way too young for me, obviously, but he was good-looking all the same.