by Amy Boyles
My mother shot me a confused look.
I hiked my shoulders to my ears. “I mean, have you seen the man? He looks like he would paint himself all over in dark paint and run around the neighborhood naked.”
“You really need a love life,” my mother said.
I ignored her barb. “Can you get inside?”
She frowned. “Let me see.”
My mother pressed her hands against a magical force field in front of the door. She pushed against it. It was like watching her palm press a bubble. The magic moved but wouldn’t give.
“Strange,” she mused. “It’s not water magic.”
I mentally reached out to it, touching the barrier with my power. The bubble extended to the ground, and it was then I knew what sort of magic it was.
Fire magic.
Why would Rots Smythe live in Water Town but be using fire magic?
Oh, the mystery just got more and more complex.
“Let me see if I can counter it,” she said.
The opposite of fire magic was water, so nearly a quarter of Witch’s Forge could counter the spell. But I had a feeling Rots Smythe was smarter than that. He wouldn’t leave a lock on a door that any witch could simply dissolve.
This might be tricky.
My mother called her magic and punched a hole, literally, through the barrier.
“Oh, that did it,” she said.
I studied her but said nothing. Mama opened the door, and we both gasped.
In the center of a room painted black (yes, I was doubly right) sat a dark green crystal inside some sort of machine. Wires coiled from the structure, curling toward the sky like a series of antennas.
“What the heck is this?” I said.
Mama ran her fingers over the box. “It’s very powerful.” Then she pointed to my hair. “It’s what’s causing your hair to stand on end.”
“Mine?” I felt my hair, and it was true, my hair was standing like the Bride of Frankenstein’s.
Thank goodness Thorne couldn’t see me like this.
Wait. What?
Why would I even be thinking about Thorne?
Mama grabbed my hand. “Come on. We have to tell the police. There’s something wrong here. This crystal is doing something with our magic. Can’t you feel it?”
Mama was asking a woman who had gone from barely having any power to having more than I was used to dealing with. I felt my magic surge, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.
Mama tugged me toward the door. “Come, Charming.”
We raced through the house and reached the front door. Relief buoyed in my chest. We’d made it. We’d be able to escape without Rots seeing us. We’d find Thorne and say that we happened to run into a big machine that Rots has in his home.
I sprinted out the front door right as Rots appeared. I held back a scream and did the only thing I could—I threw out my hand.
A chicken flew out from me and batted Rots in the face. Like, where did the chicken come from?
I glanced down at my hands as Mama dragged me away. “Great cover, Charming.”
I looked over my shoulder to see the chicken flogging Rots. Rots tried to shove it out of his face, but the chicken just kept on kicking and flapping.
We dived into the bushes, and I prayed that Rots hadn’t seen us.
Even if he had, the chicken took all his focus.
“What took you so long?” Rose said. “I thought y’all had been sucked into an interdimensional vortex.”
I cocked a brow. “Right. Because interdimensional vortexes are automatically what happens when someone takes too long to appear somewhere.”
Rose hugged Pig to her. “It’s what I think.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Mama pressed her hands together to use her magic, but nothing happened.
“Let’s get out of here,” she repeated. Mama brought her palms together with a grit and determination I’d never seen before.
But we didn’t move.
Her brow creased into deep lines. “What’s wrong?”
A light blinked on in my head. I grabbed her arm. “It’s your power. You touched the machine. It did something.”
“Oh, good grief,” she griped. “Rose, will you do the honors?”
“I would love to.”
A moment later we were back inside the courthouse. The three of us looked at one another.
“I’ll make sweet tea,” Rose said.
Mama stared at the walls blankly. I thought her brain might’ve broken. I squeezed her shoulders. “It’s okay. Really, Mama. It’s okay. It can’t be permanent.”
“What he’s doing—it’s horrible.”
I guided her to a chair, and she dropped in. “Maybe the prophecy wasn’t about you at all. Maybe it was about that man. You just happen to be here, in Witch’s Forge at the same time that all magic is sucked from the world.”
“We don’t know that he’s sucking magic from the world.”
Mama fired a look at me that said, are you crazy? “Of course that’s what he’s doing,” she said snidely. “Why else would my magic be gone right now?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it was feedback or something and your power will return soon.”
Rose entered with three tall glasses of sweet tea on a silver tray. She settled the tray on the table and sat. “Well, we have to tell that handsome vampire what we found.”
“How are we going to do that?” I said. “It’s not as if we can run into his office and announce that we broke into Rots Smythe’s house, found a machine locked behind a door, forced our way in and then discovered this magic-sucking device.”
The three of us stared at each other. I spoke first. “I mean, we can’t. Right?”
“We definitely can’t,” Mama said. “As soon as Thorne hears that we know something about what Rots is doing, he’ll be suspicious.”
“Why don’t we write him a note?” Rose suggested. “Slip it under his door and say it’s from an anonymous friend?”
I shot Mama a hopeful look. “That seems reasonable. I mean, he might go for that. It’s not a definite, but it’s possible.”
Mama considered it. “It’s the best idea I’ve heard so far. Okay. Charming, you leave the note.”
I shook my head with gusto. “No way. I can’t. He knows my scent.”
My mother’s eyebrow coiled to high heaven. “And he doesn’t have the hots for you.”
My face burned. “He’s a vampire. He smells people. Wait. That came out wrong. He has an amazing sense of smell.”
“Okay, then Rose will do it.” Mama smiled at her. “If you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Not at all. I’ll leave the note tonight.”
“Good,” Mama said. “Now. We still have Reese’s curse to break and my power to fix. Charming, you’ll have to help with Reese.”
“Me? My job is to match people. Not break spells.”
“Well welcome to the club. You’ll be initiated by fire,” Mama said curtly. “You’ll have to help figure out a different way to crack the curse since Jamison is a no-go.”
Rose downed the rest of her tea and smacked her lips. “Well, I’m off to plant the note.”
“Let me pen it.” Mama found a sheet of paper and quickly scribbled a note to Thorne. “Leave it under his front door and don’t let anyone see you.”
Rose plucked a jar of shoe paint from the air. She opened it and smeared the inky polish under each eye. “Glinda, you’re acting as if I’ve never done this sort of thing before. I might remind you that I’m the one who taught you how to do reconnaissance.”
I quirked a brow. “Is that true?”
“Never you mind, Charming,” Mama said. “Leave it alone.”
As if I was going to do that. But I would for the moment. No sense in upsetting my mother more than she already was.
After Rose finished putting on her camouflage, she took the note and stuffed it in her shirt. “I’ll be back. Come, Pig.”
Rose and Pig disappeared. Mama
sank back into her chair. Her finger brushed over the sweat sliding down her glass. “That only leaves one other thing for us to do.”
“What’s that?”
Her eyes narrowed. “With Rots here screwing with magic, you and I need to know more about the prophecy.”
“How do we do that?”
Mama rubbed her fingers together. “Well, the first thing we could do is simply not do anything, but I believe we need to return to the source.”
I gasped. “The swamp witch?”
My mother nodded. “We need her here.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ll make the call.”
Chapter 12
Hildegarde was the strangest creature I had ever met. Truly. Long, stringy gray hair flowed from her crown. Her black clothes were tattered just about everywhere, and she smelled like the swamp.
That might’ve been the worst thing about her—the smell.
As soon as my mother called Hildegarde, she arrived. Broom was very interested in her, as water also pooled at the swamp witch’s feet.
At first I thought the water was dripping from her clothes, but then I realized she dripped. I don’t know how she did it, but the woman actually dripped, as if the water were coming from her pores.
Broom followed her about the room, sweeping in an attempt to clean up the puddles that splotched the floor.
Hildegarde glanced around the house starry-eyed. “So it’s magical,” she said for the fourth time. “I might trade my entire swamp for a place like this.”
“Well, it’s on loan so you can’t have it,” my mother said stiffly. “Hildie, I hate to invite you here and then move the conversation along, but I’m afraid I don’t have much choice.”
Hildegarde finally sat, yet she still eyed the house like an enchanted creature, all doe-eyed with amazement. But when my mother pulled her back into reality, the swamp witch blinked and straightened.
“Of course. Do you need my services?” Hildegarde rummaged about her torn pockets. “I don’t seem to have any boiled peanuts on me to make a prophecy.”
Mama flicked her wrist. “No, no. I called you here to tell us about an old prophecy, one that you gave me years ago.”
The witch grimaced. “I’ve given so many. I can’t promise to remember one.”
“You’ll remember it. What you said was unique. You told me that my daughter would end all magic and that she would end it in Witch’s Forge.”
Hildegarde blinked in surprise. “Oh, I do remember that one. You know”—she leaned forward, dripping water on the rug—“it is so rare that I remember something I told someone. I’ve given thousands of prophecies over the years, and that’s one of the few I recall.”
She sat back and folded her hands in contentment. “Tell me. How’s that prophecy going? Is all magic gone yet?”
She said it with a lilt in her voice as if it would’ve pleased Hildegarde if all magic disappeared. Let me say this—it wouldn’t have pleased my mother, that was for sure.
“No, of course magic isn’t gone,” Mama snapped. “You arrived by magic.”
The swamp witch considered this. “Oh, that’s right. So I suppose we still have it. Okay. So the prophecy is either wrong or it hasn’t come true. Since my prophecies are never wrong, I suppose it’s simply a matter of time before it takes place.”
“That’s what I’ve called you here for,” Mama explained. “I want to revisit the prophecy. You told me that Charming would be the linchpin in the destruction of magic. I’m wondering if that’s correct.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because we have knowledge now that she may have nothing to do with it.”
Hildegarde cocked her head to one side. She studied me before extending her hand toward me. “May I?”
I suppose I had no choice but to allow her to touch me. I wondered if her skin felt as slimy as it looked.
It probably was. I inwardly cringed as Hildegarde slid a cold hand that reminded me of fish flesh over mine. She jolted as if electricity had snaked right into her. Her mouth opened.
Her voice came out deep, as if a spirit had invaded her body. “The girl will travel to Witch’s Forge. She will be the death of all magic.”
The swamp witch released me, and I retreated. She brushed her hands and smiled widely at Mama. “Well? Does that answer your question? Prophecy is still on.” Hildegarde giggled. “Oh, I do love my talent. It’s wonderful to be able to predict the future.”
“You realize,” my mother snapped, “that if Charming destroys magic, then you won’t be a seer anymore.”
Hildegarde shrugged. “I suppose that’s just part of it. Oh well. That’s how it goes, I guess.” She rose and drifted toward the wall to inspect a painting. “Anyway, do you have any cookies while I’m here? It’s hard to make cookies in the swamp.” She lifted her dripping arms. “The fire goes out a lot.”
Mama rolled her eyes. “I think Rose made some earlier. I’ll get you a plate.”
A few minutes later, with cookies in hand, Hildegarde left.
Mama sank into a chair. “That still doesn’t make me feel any better about Rots Smythe. Not at all. But hopefully Thorne will receive the note and all will be well.”
As if on cue, Rose appeared in the living room. Mama rose. “Well? Did you do it?”
Rose pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away the shoe polish on her cheeks. “Oh, I did it. Pig and I got in, dropped the letter and scurried off. I don’t think the vampire was home.”
“Were the lights off?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I didn’t get that tingle in my girlie parts that I normally do when he’s around.”
Seriously. Why did I even ask?
“Well, we discovered that there is no change to Hildegarde’s prophecy,” Mama said curtly.
“Oh? Did you give her the boiled peanuts again?”
Mama shook her head. “No. It wasn’t an initial reading so she didn’t request them.”
Mama took a long look at the three of us. “Ladies. Let’s get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow we have work to do.”
Mama placed pen to paper. “Charming, there are a few ingredients I need you to get in town.”
I took the last bite of my eggs. “For what?”
“To see if we can mimic a handsome prince kissing Reese so she’ll wake up.”
“Seriously?”
Mama nodded. “Yes. Of course. Since Jamison is obviously too fragile to kiss her, we’ve got to come up with another method.” She passed me the paper. “These are the things I need.”
“Okay, no problem. I’ll see if anyone says anything about Rots, too.”
“Do.” Mama sipped her coffee. “I would like to know more about that man and his involvement in all this.”
“Oh, and take Pig, will you?” Rose said. “She needs to get out.”
I glanced at Pig. She snorted happily at me. A tug pulled at my heartstrings. “Okay, I’ll take her.”
Pig and I set off for the supply shop, which was located in the heart of Witch’s Forge, outside of any of the elemental towns. Aptly named Witch’s Forge General Store, the place had everything from camping supplies for tourists to fish scales for witches.
And the place was hopping, let me tell you. Pig and I wove our way around tourists to the back where I quickly located the wall of powders. Many were in small barrels with scoopers shoved into them.
I grabbed an empty flour sack and started loading up.
“Charming!” Kimberly Peterson rushed up to me. “I’m so glad to see you.”
She gave me a quick squeeze that I returned. “How’s it going?”
Her lids fluttered in happiness. “Dash is absolutely everything I could’ve hoped for. I adore him, Charming. He’s my soul mate. I just know it.”
I smiled widely. “That’s so great. I’m happy for you.”
The light in her eyes faded a little. “But I really want to be sure. He’s taking me out to dinner tonight to the Old Witch Mill res
taurant. I’d love it if you could show up and just, you know”—she elbowed me—“touch his hand and make sure.”
“Kimberly, if you feel like he’s your soul mate, then he probably is.”
She waved the air. “Oh, I know. I only want to be sure before I buy my wedding dress.”
My eyes nearly popped from my head. “Has he proposed?”
She giggled. “Oh no. Not yet. But if he’s the one, he’s going to, right?”
Um. She had a point. But they’d only known each other a few days. Before Kimberly got ahead of herself and started deciding on baby names, perhaps I needed to intervene.
“Sure, I’ll be glad to. Just tell me what time.”
We agreed on seven, and I thought that maybe I’d get my mom and Rose to come with me; that way it didn’t look like I was at the restaurant simply to be nosy.
I bought what my mother needed and headed out the door. “Come on, Pig. You ready to go home?”
“Hold on just a minute.”
I grimaced. Guess who?
I turned around. “Hey, Thorne. Beautiful morning.”
He scowled. The chief of police stalked up to me, anger pretty much burning off his skin in big waves. “Cut it. I know one of you left that note at my house.”
I scoffed. “Please. What note?”
His silvery eyes narrowed. “You know which note. What’s funny is that I received a call from Rots Smythe last night.”
I kept walking down the street. Unfortunately Thorne followed. “Oh? What’d he have to say?”
“Said he was pretty sure someone had broken into his house and threw a chicken at him.”
“Wow. That man has an active imagination.”
Thorne’s scowl deepened. “I don’t like games.”
“Who’s playing games?”
“You are. Look”—his voice dropped—“I like you and your family, but I can’t protect you if you break into people’s houses just to prove some outlandish point.”
“We didn’t break into any house, least of all Rots. But tell me”—I paused as Pig sniffed the grass—“what did the note say?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I scoffed. “It seems to me if some kind stranger left a concerned note about another citizen, you should take it seriously.”
