The Kitchen Witch Switch

by Dawn Montgomery

  “We have the best countercurse agents at our disposal. We won't need your services.” Brandon speaks up before I really lose it.

  I smile at him, grateful for his confidence in my ability. Then I match my sister's glare with my own. Surprisingly enough, she seems more shocked than angry.

  “Let's eat before it gets cold,” Mrs. Devlin interrupts my thoughts and embarrassment rolls in immediately.

  “I'm sorry for being rude.”

  She waves a hand. “Not at all. You remind me of me and my brother when we were kids.” She seems sincere, but I still hate that I couldn't control my mouth.

  Even now, I know Melanie's about to disappear again. I can see it in the restlessness of her body and the way she picks at her food. Mel is an exceptional cook, but she is a foodie with no reservations.

  “Excuse me. Is there a place I can go freshen up?” My sister's gaze locks onto me and then slides away. She flips her hair over her shoulder and fidgets with the suit jacket. She's about to run. I sigh as someone steps forward to lead her away.

  “Did you need her for anything else?” I ask Brandon as I watch my sister speed away. She may not like business suits, but she wears them well.

  “No. She fulfilled her purpose for the day.”

  “Good,” I say as I cut into a tender chicken breast. “I'd expect her to disappear any moment now.”

  “We have teleport restrictions—” Brandon's statement cuts off abruptly and I register the shock on his face with a glance. “She left. I thought you said it takes her weeks to travel.”

  I hum an affirmative response. “She always has an escape plan. It’s probably an amulet or something.” This is why I flip out every time I see her. I have one conversation to tell her to stop screwing up my life, and she runs away. Again and again. At this point, it's not even a question of if, but when she'll run.

  “Today is your presentation?” I like how his grandmother smoothly ignores the situation.

  “Yes. Hopefully we'll seal the deal.”

  “Hopefully?” Mrs. Devlin asks. “What are you worried about?”

  “It's in their best interest to strike a deal with us, but there's been movement from the Fortuna family.”

  My stomach twists and my metabolism is the only reason I can keep choking down food. The Fortuna family is one of the few big families I know about. Their hostile takeover of our three primary businesses is a huge part of the reason my family lost their position in the elite circles of magecraft. Poor management made up the rest. I stare down at my plate and consider whether or not to say anything.

  “They haven't interfered in our business for years. I think you're overthinking it.”

  No, I can't stay quiet. “Is the Fortuna family competing with you over this presentation?”

  “Possibly.”

  I put down my fork and knife and gently touch the napkin to my lips. “They won't move against you unless they have insider information.” I place my napkin back on my lap and interlock my fingers to press against my stomach.

  I'm ravenous and nauseous, not a combination I want to tackle, especially with the way I've already embarrassed myself over my sister. “If they're showing signs of interference, then the rumors you tried to stop are probably already affecting the meeting today.”

  “What do you mean by insider information?” Brandon's voice had an edge of defensiveness. I'm not surprised since no one wants to hear that they could have been betrayed by people loyal to you.

  I take some time to explain our own situation and how our company was undermined from within. Then there were rumors and sabotage, and finally, a hostile takeover.

  “They play the long game. It took them over twenty years to take us down. Fortuna will not move unless they're sure they can win. How many times have they outbid you already?”

  They both stare at me for some time and then look at each other.

  “Everyone but Bianca leave us,” Brandon says to the staff still standing around. Theodore tries to step up, but Brandon dismisses him along with the others.

  Bianca remains by Mrs. Devlin, likely ready to enact the shield if Brandon’s curse acts up again. Mrs. Devlin places her napkin on the table. “Forgive me for asking this question, but how do you know all of this if your family considers you an outcast?”

  I gesture toward the seat my sister recently abandoned. “My grandfather. He took me under his wing to teach me business and point out how we lost our influence over the years. My uncles and aunts had voted him out of a position of authority early on so that he would have no influence on the decision to give in to Fortuna’s demands. He would show me the meetings as they occurred and point out how we were being used against each other.”

  Their expressions change dramatically and I watch them look at each other. The case file I glanced at yesterday told me that Mrs. Devlin stepped down from the board after the heir of the family reached the age of inheritance. By their expressions, I can tell that it likely wasn't their idea.

  “How long ago did they start undercutting your business and outbidding on projects?” I tap my finger against the table.

  “Six years ago.”

  I can't ignore the timing. “Before or after your curse manifested?”

  He stiffens next to me. “After.”

  “And your family tried to keep it under wraps, am I right?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Devlin says. For the first time, I can see anger in her face and steely determination in her gaze that reminds me of my grandfather.

  “Then it's safe to assume you have someone working with them. Someone relatively high up in your organization or family. I won't pry into those affairs. Family business belongs in the family. I'm just offering my observations from the losing side of the Fortuna family.”

  They are quiet for a moment and I can't help but think of the upcoming meeting.

  “If I'm wrong, continue the meeting as originally planned, but I like to prepare for the worst. Right now the most important thing is to expect a higher offer by Fortuna or one of their sister companies. Rumors will be rampant before the meeting starts, so what we need is an effective counter-attack.”

  “We?” He seems amused by my statement and I openly smile at him.

  “Of course. I've spent a majority of my adult life honing my negotiation and public relations skills in both the magic world as my sister’s doppelganger, and the mundane one through my career. It's always good to prepare for the worst. I'm also fast on my feet and able to stop curses the moment they activate.”

  I wink at him. I can’t create an actual countercurse spell, but I can come close.

  “If what you suggest is true, we are grateful to you, Meghan.” Mrs. Devlin leans back in her chair and places her hands on the arm rests, looking every bit the matron of such a prestigious family. “If you're wrong, however...” she trails off and I incline my head.

  “I understand. I can only tell you my own experiences and help you counter those. Much like his curse, it's good to have a plan of action once you know the facts.”

  She breaks out in a sly smile and her gaze sparkles with something close to mischief. “I like you. Everything you say surprises me.”

  She waves her hand. “We have a short time before the meeting, so let's plan aggressively.” At that moment I saw the iron backbone of the Devlin family come through.

  Brandon's assistant teleports in during our brainstorm, and he offers key insights. It was supposed to be a combined effort of allied families, but there were gray areas in conflict. I spend the next hour immersing myself in everything I could about the contract proposal and the presentation Brandon would give.

  As I work with him, I realize how freeing it is to collaborate as a unit, instead of at cross purposes or with aggression. Is it this family? I catch Brandon's gaze as it lingers on me again. Or is it the man, himself, that I love being around?

  12

  Meghan

  We arrive at the building with plenty of time to spare and make ou
r way up to the executive floors. I'm given an open-access pass that expires after today, but I don't mind at all since I doubt I'll ever come back here.

  As we step into the elevator, Brandon's uncle blocks the door. I press the open button, waiting for him to make it in before releasing it.

  “Sorry, I was afraid I'd miss you before the meeting.” He smiles at me and then looks at Brandon. “Do you have time to talk?”

  “Not much time, Uncle Viktor. You seem to be upset about something.”

  Viktor glances at me, hesitation obvious on his face. I remain firmly in position with no expression on my face, waiting for Brandon to tell me to step off at the next floor.

  “Say what you need to say.” Brandon crosses his arms, staring up the elevator numbers.

  “I'd rather not say it in front of an outsider,” he says quietly, but I can still hear it.

  Pain shoots through my heart at that word. Outsider. That word pierces my chest, bringing back those brutal moments of self doubt that made me leave the family behind to pursue a life away of magic. No, it's what made me think that's what I deserved.

  “She's not an outsider. Tell me what you need.”

  His words shock me, and I have to fight not to show a reaction. I draw in a slow breath in an attempt to calm my nerves.

  “Alright,” Viktor shrugs. “You're the boss. I've heard that they're going to back out today. There are rumores that you and Ms. Stiles are hiding the fact that your curse has manifested and will soon be out of control.”

  “They're just rumors. There's nothing to worry about.”

  Viktor puts his hand on Brandon's shoulder and squeezes. “There's truth in the rumor, Brandon. As your uncle, I'm worried. As your advisor with insider knowledge on your current health, I suggest we give your body time to recover from the previous incident.”

  I cross my arms and lean back against the elevator wall, watching their interaction. It's obvious his uncle cares for him, at least on the surface. But why try to convince him to cancel an important meeting on the day it's supposed to happen? And within an hour of the expected meet-up?

  Brandon smiles and claps his uncle on the arm. “It's fine. I've got everything under control.”

  “You have to keep her with you constantly. How is that fine?”

  “I enjoy her company and her insight surprises me.” He glances at me and I feel heat rising on my cheeks.

  His uncle turns his head to stare at me, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible. With a sigh, he shakes his head. “Make sure she's ready, then. The last thing we need is a flare up during this meeting.” We arrive at the top floor and his uncle leaves first, stalking away, tension locked through his shoulders and neck.

  His words unlock a feeling of dissonance inside me. “Why would your curse flare up during the meeting.”

  Brandon gestures for me to lead the way out of the elevator. “It won't. Don't worry.”

  I realize that I have no idea what he's actually presenting in this meeting. With a shrug, I wait for him to guide me to our destination.

  “This is Silverfang, my familiar.”

  I look over to see a cat that has as much arrogance as his guardian. His familiar pops in front of me, tail swaying as he guides us. I realize at that moment that I haven't seen Mystica for a long time. I wonder if he's been called back to work or if the person he left in charge messed everything up.

  Thinking of Mystica and people left in charge, I wonder how that witch is doing, the one covering for me in my job?

  “Are you ready?” Brandon touches my arm as he asks the question.

  The soft material of his glove can't hide the warmth of his skin. A warmth I won't feel if I go back to my old job and old life. “Of course.” I force a confidence into my voice and a smile I don't feel. “Your uncle seems to know something about today's meeting.”

  “I can't believe he thought we'd cancel on today of all days.”

  I'm glad I'm not the only one following that line of thinking. We arrive at a set of ornate double doors, and they open the moment Brandon's familiar touches a panel. They part and I feel a little thrill of excitement, wondering what lies beyond. I step inside and look around, surprised to find a normal, boring executive conference room.

  The doors automatically close behind us and I'm tempted to see whether it's magic or machine that makes them that way. Brandon's assistant is already there, taking care of printouts and all the other things I used to do in my other job before each meeting. Was this his normal job, or did he take extra precautions because of my warning earlier?

  “You look disappointed,” Brandon murmurs in my ear. His breath tickles and his low voice slides through me like a caress.

  I must be super exhausted or way too nervous for me to hyperfocus on him. I clear my throat and try to clear my head, as well. “I expected fields of flowers or some arcane grand stone table covered in runes.”

  His shocked expression is priceless and I have to try not to laugh. “You should have seen the old Stiles boardroom. It was like something out of a gothic horror novel.”

  “We do business in both the magic and mundane worlds, but if you'd like, I could give you a tour of our break areas. We have doorways to the Mediterranean, Alaska, and a wildcard door that tends to stick people in random tropical settings.”

  My eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. We also have vacation packages to multiple resorts and exotic locations.”

  “Really?” My stomach does a little flip. “How many people in your company actually have time to take a vacation?”

  Brandon's assistant grins at me. “Every employee is required to take a two week vacation every year. Full pay, no exceptions. We also have an excellent medical and dental plan.” His smile widens.

  “How many hours do you work per week?”

  “No more than forty unless authorized by Mr. Devlin or myself. We pride ourselves on getting the work done that needs to be done within the work day. If it takes longer than that, we're either doing something wrong or need to hire more personnel to fill the gap.”

  “Are you recruiting me?” I ask with a smile.

  “Not at all,” he replies. “I'm simply pointing out our perks.”

  “I see,” I say with only slight disappointment. “Are you hiring?”

  “Depends on your performance today,” Brandon teases with a grin.

  I smirk. “I think you'll be impressed.” My job is to observe the situation and see who may be cursed, marked, or otherwise affected by outside influence. I'm good at sensing curses in others and I'm exceptional at reading a room during tense situations.

  The door opens and several people file in. A few wear suits, while a couple of them wear traditional magic robes. Brandon's uncle is talking and laughing with a distinguished gentleman in a midnight blue robe. Silver runes are embroidered in the cuffs and along the collar, standing out in stark contrast. Several pendants hang from his neck in a mess of jewelry that had to be heavy as well as utterly obnoxious.

  The moment Brandon and his assistant sees him, tensions ratchet up in a way that has nothing to do with the presentation.

  My gaze lingers on the material and I realize I've seen those runes before. I flick my attention to Brandon's gloves and make the connection. Anti-curse magic. Specifically the runes required to stop the spread of Brandon's curse.

  Anger boils inside me, rampaging through the calm I pride myself in during high stakes meetings like these. I slowly take in the appearance of the rest of the attendees. Most of them look really uncomfortable with this guy's behavior. Some look smug. Two seem angry. On behalf of Brandon or in this jerk's favor, there's no telling.

  The old guy is smirking at Brandon. His attention drops to his hand as though waiting to reject a handshake. He pales considerably when he sees Brandon wearing his gloves.

  “Mr. Bonet.” Brandon inclines his head slightly, not even bothering with a handshake. “Welcome, gentlemen, to our presentation this afternoon.
Please have a seat.”

  They all sit and the old guy, Mr. Bonet, huffs slightly as he plops down. Is this guy important to the other company? I see the others are more uncomfortable with his behavior than before.

  I sit at Brandon's right, taking notes as though that's my job during this event. His assistant even spelled the pen so that it will write on its own if I mentally dictate to it. Cute, but not something I want to try for the first time in a meeting like this.

  “Today we'll be discussing the collaboration between—”

  “One moment,” Mr. Bonet interrupts. “Before we continue, I hope that you'll shed some light on a few rumors we've heard lately.”

  Brandon leans forward and braces his elbows on the table. He steeples his gloved fingers together, not bothering to hide the gloves or the runes. His smile oozes confidence.

  “Which ones? The ones about me being cursed to die soon? Or the ones where I am attending the Kitchen Witch Academy because I want to change careers?” He leans back in his chair and grins. “There are so many of them. Which one is your favorite?” he asks as he looks to his assistant.

  His assistant tilts his head slightly and then smiles. “I'm a fan of the one where you're faking the curse to gain influence in the Academy's research and development division. Oh, wait. My favorite one is where you're ruthless to people who try to undermine the integrity of our company by spreading malicious rumors for their own gain.” He puts a hand over his mouth.

  “No wait, that last one isn't a rumor.” His smile immediately disappears and both him and Brandon stare at the man in the robe.

  Mr. Bonet clears his throat, obviously expecting a different outcome. On my note pages, I continue to mark down my observations. It seems more than one person turned pale at that last statement. Did they even have a real plan coming into this meeting?

  “The truth is, we've received another, more lucrative offer. And from a company that might not go through a major upheaval in the next few months. You have to understand that we need to look out for our company's best interests.”

  “If there were an upheaval, I would understand the precaution. I'm curious as to why you would think things would change here? Is there something you know that we don't?”