bless your witch 09 - southern witching

by Amy Boyles

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because we’re going to Castle Witch and Fairyland.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Sera helped me undress. “So what’s going on?” she whispered.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “We’re the only ones in the room. You don’t have to whisper.”

  “I know, but I don’t know how else to say it, I guess. It’s just so horrible.”

  That made me feel better.

  Not at all.

  I sighed. “All I know is that we’re going to Castle Witch to figure out what the heck’s going on. Maybe someone saw something.”

  “Too bad we don’t have any of her DNA,” Reid shot out from the corner where she sat scrolling on her phone.

  “So we could verify that it’s her,” I said.

  “Yep. Then we’d know if Roman was a wannabe polygamist or not.”

  “Not helping,” I said.

  I was doing my best to keep my spirits up, but they were quickly crashing and burning. All I wanted was for this whole mess to get cleared up so I could figure out what was going to happen to the rest of my life.

  Ironic, right? I thought I already had it figured out.

  It’s funny how life throws screwballs at you.

  I know that’s not a phrase, but it sounded good. Some of my Grandmother Hazel must be rubbing off on me.

  I climbed out of my dress and into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. “Okay. Let’s find the grandmas and head over to Castle Witch.”

  “What about Roman?” Sera said.

  I rubbed my lips together as I figured out how best to say it. “He and Pearbottom took Sheila already. We’re catching up.”

  “Oh,” Reid said.

  I showed her my palm. “Don’t do that.”

  She shrugged. “What?”

  “Make pitiful sounds like that. I can’t take it. Come on,” I growled. “Let’s go.”

  We found my grandmothers in the foyer of the bed-and-breakfast where we’d spent the night. When they saw me, both of their mouths split into ridiculously optimistic grins.

  Either that was it, or I was being deathly pessimistic about the whole thing.

  Yeah, that was probably it.

  The pretzel knots infesting my stomach didn’t look to be going away anytime soon. No matter what, I had to stay positive.

  “Keep your chin up, toots,” Milly said. “We’ll get this straightened out in no time. Hazel and I are on the case.”

  “Oh dear Lord,” Sera said.

  I knew things were bad if even Sera thought my grandmothers getting involved was a terrible idea.

  I pushed the brightest smile to my face that I could and said, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get to Castle Witch and figure out what’s going on.”

  We clasped hands. My grandmother Hazel mumbled a few words, and in less than five seconds, I was zooming through the in-between that separated our world from Castle Witch. Which, from what I understood, the structure wasn’t quite in our world nor in another. It was its own entity—a witch dimension, so to speak, that encompassed Fairyland and Monkey Town.

  Yes, I know my life is strange. You don’t have to remind me.

  Queen Em met us on the steps of the castle. She rushed up to me and threw her arms around mine.

  I stood paralyzed, unsure what to make of this strange display of affection. “Um. Are you okay?”

  Em sniffled. “Dylan, it’s just so darn terrible. The whole cotton-pickin’ thang. I cain’t believe that woman showed up at your weddin’ claimin’ to be Roman’s wife.” She released me and brushed a tear from her cheek. “I know we ain’t never really gotten along. But I aim to do everythin’ I can to find out the truth.”

  My heart opened up a little at that. I had to admit, it felt withered, as if today’s events had sucked the juice from it. “Thanks, Em. I appreciate it. Now. Where are they?”

  Em smacked her lips. “They’re inside.” I stepped forward. She grabbed my hand. “Stay strong.”

  I nodded. Sheesh. I’d never gotten so many almost-pep talks in my life. But they were all right in one thing—I had to keep my composure and know that everything would work out in the end.

  I stepped inside the castle and for the first time ignored the opulence of the tapestries and marble. Instead I scanned the entrance until I saw Roman.

  With Sheila.

  I mean, what did I really think? That he’d abandoned her even though he didn’t believe she was his long lost, supposed-to-be-dead girlfriend?

  “Hi,” I said.

  Sheila shot daggers at me while Roman smiled warmly. “I was just about to interview Sheila.”

  I quirked a brow. “You were?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I need you and Pearbottom with us.”

  Jonathan stepped up. “Miss Ross, if you’ll follow me.”

  Sheila shot Roman a terrified look. She clutched his arm. “You’re coming too, aren’t you?”

  Roman unhooked her hand from him. I noticed he held on a moment longer than I would have liked before releasing her. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Jonathan led her off.

  “What’s this about?” I said once they were out of earshot.

  Roman brushed a strand of dark hair from my face. “I’m going to interview Sheila. Ask her questions that only she would know. I want you and Pearbottom with us.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “But I thought you didn’t believe it’s her.”

  He smiled tenderly. “I don’t. This is how I prove it, Dylan. I need you with me. I need you there.”

  I shrank back. “I don’t know, Roman. This is too much.”

  “You can do it. We settle this, and it’s just me and you.”

  I heaved out a shot of air. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Sheila and Pearbottom sat in a meeting room. A table stretched out before us. They sat at one end. Roman scooted past me to take a middle seat. I sat at the other end.

  Sheila’s gaze flashed from Roman to me and back to him.

  “My mom’s going to be so glad to finally meet you,” Sheila said to Roman. “I’ve told her so much. Not about the marriage, of course, but she knows we’re dating.”

  My gut tightened. I breathed through a cramp. Sweat pooled on my back. I ignored it and tried to do my best to keep it together.

  “Sheila,” Roman said quietly, “something happened, and we haven’t been together for a while.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  Roman paused. I had the feeling he didn’t want to come right out and say what had happened, but this was a tricky knot to untie.

  “I need to ask you some questions, make sure you’re really you.”

  Sheila reached across the table for him. “Of course I’m me. I don’t understand. Is that why you’re doing this quickie wedding? Who is she?” She pointed at me.

  Heat flamed my cheeks. I was not supposed to be the person on trial here.

  Roman gently steered the conversation back. “Let me ask a few questions. That may help clear things up.”

  “Ask whatever you want.”

  Pearbottom cleared his throat. “Who are your parents?”

  Sheila tapped a manicured finger on the slick surface. “John and Sue Ross.”

  “Where do they live?”

  “They live at 458 Pine Crest Road, Richmond.”

  Pearbottom worked his way down a spiral notepad, ticking questions with his pen as he went. “Where did you attend elementary school?”

  “George Washington Elementary.”

  I snickered.

  All eyes turned to me.

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry.” But really, wasn’t there a George Washington something or other in every city in the country? Easy answer.

  The questions went like that—basic facts anyone could’ve discovered about Sheila. They went that way until Roman started in.

  “How did we meet?” he said.

  “At an ice cream parlor. I dropped a scoop
on the floor, and you bought me a new one.”

  By the twitch in his cheek I could tell that was true. My heart tightened.

  “Where was our first date?”

  “At the state fair.”

  His jaw clenched.

  That was true, too. And suddenly I found myself very jealous that Roman had taken Sheila to a state fair. He’d probably won a giant bear for her.

  Sheila smiled. “Remember the stuffed bear you won?”

  See? I hated her already.

  Wait. I didn’t hate her. It wasn’t her fault that she was back from the dead and hell-bent on ruining my life.

  On second thought, maybe it was her fault.

  Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “What was the last memory you have of me?”

  Sheila closed her eyes. “Of you telling me how much you love me.”

  My heart dried into a waterless husk.

  Roman didn’t skip a beat. “Where was it? Where did you see me last?”

  Sheila cocked her head. “In your apartment. You were leaving for work.” Her gaze darted to the table as spots of red dotted her cheeks. “I hate to say it, but I was lying in bed, naked, when you left.”

  My breath hitched. Of course I knew some of the intimacies of their relationship, but I didn’t want to hear about it.

  I rose and nodded. “I need to go check on some things.”

  I left the room, closing the door quickly behind me. I was barely halfway down the hall when Roman’s voice stopped me.

  “Dylan,” he called.

  I ignored him and kept walking.

  “Dylan, wait.”

  I kicked my feet up and started running. I didn’t stop until the sound of his voice faded into the background and I was tucked into a far corner of the castle. I sank into a ball, hugged my knees to my chest and cried.

  Stupid, right? I mean, the information Sheila knew could’ve probably been discovered any number of ways. But something about this hit home, knocked me in the solar plexus so hard it kidnapped my breath.

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but it was long enough for me to reach several conclusions. The first was that I needed to be nice to Sheila; the second was that if Roman wanted to be with her instead of me, that was okay. Technically he knew her first and she had claim to him, if they were really married.

  It would hurt, there was no doubt about it, but I could handle it. I could deal with all of it. I knew that Roman told me he wanted to be with me, but he might change his mind.

  People changed their minds all the time about all sorts of things. It was a possibility. I’d decided all of this and was about to leave my dark alcove tucked behind a spiral staircase, when a commotion coming from downstairs snagged my attention.

  I padded quietly to the main entrance.

  A crowd mingled in the space. My gaze swept from a small herd of unicorns to a gaggle of witches, monkey people from Monkey Town, even Clothar, King of the Fairies.

  “I thought you might want a new audience for your wedding.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Grandma stood next to me. She wiggled her silver ring–laden fingers at me.

  “What?” I said.

  She nodded. “I figured we’d have the wedding here, at Castle Witch. I invited your friends. See, there’s Titus the Unicorn King and Clothar.”

  I shook my head. “Why would you do this?”

  Grandma shrugged. “I thought it would be nice to have your friends here.”

  I pointed into the crowd. “Isn’t that Helga dePlume? Queen Witch of the North?” Off to one side, and surrounded by a throng of folks, stood a tall woman with white hair pulled back in a bun that rested on the crown of her head.

  Grandma nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”

  I scoffed. “Last time I met her, she wanted to steal my magic. These aren’t my friends.”

  Grandma reached for me. “I just wanted them to be here for the wedding.”

  Frustration boiled inside me. I flexed my fingers into claws and said, “Well, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

  Grandma blinked at me. “Why’s that, dear?”

  I shook my head. “Because there isn’t going to be a wedding.”

  CHAPTER 6

  I avoided Roman all afternoon and well into the evening. I needed to think, and I needed to do it on my own, without any sort of interference.

  He wanted to see me, I was sure of that—mainly because my sisters kept telling me—but I didn’t care. I wanted to be alone.

  That’s how I found myself standing on a balcony, glancing down into the lush gardens that wrapped around the back of the castle.

  Insects chirped and frogs croaked. The night was warmer than it had been back in Silver Springs. Still, a chill crept up my arms. My skin prickled.

  “Did you want to be alone?”

  I twisted my head around. Sheila stood in the room. It was an upstairs library and completely public. Which was annoying. I really should’ve found a private room with a balcony. One where I wouldn’t have been bothered by ghosts from the past.

  I bristled as she stepped up beside me. “Listen,” she cooed. “I’m sorry about all this. I know this must be hard for you.”

  I nodded. “I was going to say the same to you.”

  Sheila’s lips coiled into a smile. “None of it’s hard on me. Roman will make the right decision. I just don’t understand where you came from.”

  I sighed. It was almost too difficult to explain, but what the heck, she had ruined my wedding. “You were dead, Sheila. Dead. You’ve been dead for years. Roman found your body. I don’t know why no one’s told you that, but you were dead and the wedding you and Roman did, there wasn’t any paperwork. You’re not really married to him.”

  I pointed at my chest. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be marrying him. Me. Not a ghost who’s decided to appear from the dead on my wedding day.”

  Sheila’s eyes bulged. “Does this mean we’re not going to be friends?”

  I clenched my fists in anger. “It means—no. We’re not going to be friends. You’re not supposed to be here.”

  She seemed to ignore me. “The way he looks at me. Nothing’s changed. I can still see the glimmer of love in his eyes.”

  Was that true? Did Roman look at Sheila with love? I racked my brain, trying to remember. There may have been a glint of something there. I had thought it was fear, unease, possibly even mistrust.

  But what if it had been love?

  “He loves me just as much now as he did before,” she said.

  Frustration bubbled inside me. “Listen, I’m going to go.” I sighed. “Enjoy your life with Roman.”

  Because that’s what I’d decided. There wasn’t going to be a wedding, not with Roman’s dead wife showing up in my life. Those two needed to spend time together to figure things out.

  Was I being irrational? Probably. But I didn’t care. This morning I’d been full of bliss hormones. Now I wasn’t. I don’t know what I was full of, but it felt like lizards were writhing in my stomach, trying to crawl up the side.

  It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

  “Excuse me.” I swept past her and away from the balcony. That really stank because I had enjoyed my time looking out at the gardens.

  Leave it to a supposed-to-be-dead ex-wife to ruin my moment alone. I roared through the library and could barely see thanks to the tears of anger that streamed down my face. I walked through the doorframe and smacked right into a chest of stone.

  It was actually flesh, but when it’s so hard it flattens your nose and causes a sneezing fit, seems like stone is a more appropriate description.

  A tissue was stuffed into my fist. I didn’t look to see who’d handed it to me as I worked my way through the snot fest of me sneezing about two dozen times before my sinuses finally calmed down.

  “So you’re allergic to me now?”

  I wiped my nose and glanced at Roman. A coy smile tugged at his full lips. A light dusting of beard coated his cheeks. His hair stuc
k out in different directions on top, and his green eyes held amusement as he regarded the mess that was me.

  At least that’s how it seemed.

  He punched his fists into the pockets of his khakis. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I’ve been avoiding you.”

  He hung his head for a moment before raising it back up to study me. “At least you’re honest. Dylan, we need to talk.”

  “Not here,” I said. “Sheila’s on the balcony waiting for you.”

  Anger flared in his eyes. He curled a hand around my arm. Heat from his body soaked into me. If emotions were temperatures, his would’ve been hellfire and brimstone for sure.

  “This isn’t about Sheila,” he said.

  I shook my head. “Of course it is. Sometimes I feel like there’s always something keeping us apart. For the longest I refused to commit to you. Finally I did, and now something’s here driving a wedge between us.” I smacked my head. “It’s not even a something—it’s a dead girlfriend. Excuse me, wife. I mean, how much worse could this actually get, Roman?”

  “It’s not her, Dylan. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s not Sheila.”

  I shook my head. “Does it even matter? Can you tell me that her showing up didn’t put a crumb of doubt in your head about us? It’s almost too coincidental, isn’t it? We’re about to marry and a specter from the past appears, warning us not to do it—not to get together. Maybe it’s time we listened to those voices and stopped trying to create something that isn’t meant to be.”

  His hand tightened on me. “You don’t believe that. I know you don’t.”

  I shrugged. “What else am I supposed to believe?”

  He closed his eyes for a second. “That you’re the cream in my coffee.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “That you’re the blue in my sky.”

  I stifled a giggle. “That’s even worse.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Dylan. You mean the world to me. Even if that was the real Sheila, it wouldn’t matter. You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. End of story.”

  I studied him. His green eyes held more than a grain of truth—they held an ocean of it. I reached up and ran my palm over the scruff of his cheek. Roman snatched my hand and kissed the tender cup inside.