by Amy Boyles
Then the magic simply disappeared.
Sheila’s long brown hair was gone. In its place was short-cropped white-blonde hair. Her wide eyes and high cheekbones shrank down to features that were pinched and delicate like a pixie’s.
“She looks like a fairy,” Sera said.
I ground my teeth. “I was afraid of that.”
Milly snorted. “Looks like one of Clothar’s people may have something to do with it.”
Grandma wiggled her fingers over the body. “Worse. Clothar himself may have been involved.” She glanced at me. “Be careful, Dylan. Your friends are not what they seem.”
CHAPTER 8
“Her name was Angelique Kiln,” Pearbottom said.
I stared at him. The police had sequestered everyone in the castle into the main hall. Roman had still not been released, and no one was going home until an arrest was made.
“All we know about Angelique is that she was a witch for hire,” he continued. “Had been offering her services to those willing to pay the price. If anyone has information on who Angelique may have been working for, please talk to us. There’s still much we don’t know about this case.”
I glanced at Sera, who sat beside me. “What if no one here knows anything?”
She shook her head. “Impossible. Someone knows. That’s why she’s dead.”
I narrowed my gaze. “We need to talk to Roman. Maybe Pearbottom will let me now since we delivered Sheila’s real face.”
Sera shrugged. “Maybe. My guess is that you’ll have to get Grandma to shrink you again.”
I flared my hand. “I’m not doing that. I’m afraid one of my body parts will get stuck. Or worse. All of me will be tiny and I’ll never become myself again.”
Reid leaned over. “Is that really such a bad thing?”
I elbowed her. She sniffled a whimper.
I nodded. “Either way. I think you’re right. I think it’s time to talk to Roman.”
After the crowd dispersed, I threaded my way to the podium and Pearbottom. I smiled broadly at him.
He tucked a manila folder under his arm. “No.”
I scoffed. “I haven’t even said anything.”
His Brooks Brothers shoes clacked on the stone floor as he walked away. I scurried to catch him. “You don’t have to say anything, Dylan. I know what you want.”
“And what’s that?”
“To speak with Roman.”
“Well, okay, let’s say you know what I want.”
The side of Pearbottom’s mouth curled slightly. “The answer is still no.”
My breath came hard, heavy as I practically raced across the floor to keep up with him. “You’re not being fair. Who do you have to thank for the face behind the fake Sheila?”
“Your grandmother. Not you.”
“Okay, so pretend it’s my grandmother asking for this favor.”
He shook his head. “The answer is still no.”
I grabbed his arm. “We’re practically family.”
Pearbottom stepped to the left of a table holding a marble statue of a boy with a water pitcher. I dodged right to avoid being impaled.
“We’re only family by marriage. That’s not enough to allow you access to Roman.”
“You’re not even telling us what motive he had. Why have you arrested him?”
Pearbottom’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Because that’s police business. It’s not any of yours.”
“But why was someone pretending to be Sheila? That’s the question you should be asking.”
He stopped so suddenly I collided with his back. Pearbottom’s knees buckled before straightening. “Were you in that room? I am asking those questions. I’m asking a lot of questions.” He leaned into me and lowered his voice. “The fact of the matter is, Roman looks very guilty. I’m keeping him safe by tucking him in the dungeon. Half the people here might say they believe he’s innocent, but if you start delving, you’ll realize the truth.”
My eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
Pearbottom’s lips pulled back into a tight grimace. “That most of these people think Roman is a killer. Plain and simple. They’d love to see him hang.”
I refused to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. These were Roman’s friends.
Weren’t they?
As Pearbottom walked off, my head whirled. Could someone here have planted this Angelique woman, and why? Why do it? Why now right before we were about to get married?
Was it to destroy me and Roman?
Or to destroy him?
First things first. I needed to talk to Roman.
And I knew just the person who could make that happen.
“I NEED you to make me tiny so I can speak to Roman.”
Grandma regarded me with interest. She tapped her finger to her cheek and walked around me as if inspecting me from head to foot.
“You want to go by yourself?” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Dylan, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Wait. What? Was the woman who was forever trying to get me in trouble saying no?
I cocked my head. “Is that a no?”
Grandma crossed to the window of my bedroom. She pulled the drapes back, revealing a hot, brightly burning sun.
“There are things I can do in this world, Dylan. But making you small isn’t one of them.”
“You’re joking, right? You just made four of us small so that we could go against witch police wishes and inspect a dead body.”
Grandma flipped the window’s clasp and pulled it open. The leaded glass was built like a set of French doors. It cracked inward, leading to a balcony where you could overlook the grounds. It was a very different type of balcony than the one Sheila had been pushed off.
“Dylan, I used a lot of my power back there. I’m afraid I may have the strength to turn you small, but I won’t be able to get you back.”
I shrugged. “But you will eventually. It won’t be forever.”
Grandma grimaced. “I remember a time, years ago—this was during my time undercover with the witch police. There was a young witch who went back and forth so much, becoming large and small, that eventually she had to live with a tribe of mice. That tribe then sailed to America because they were being persecuted in their home country.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that the story of An American Tail?”
Grandma flicked her hands dismissively. “Dylan, if someone stole that story and turned it into a big-budget Hollywood film, I have no control over that.”
“It was a cartoon,” I said. “Grandma, are you sure you can’t do it? I’ve got to speak to Roman.”
Grandma smacked her lips. “I’ve got a better idea that doesn’t include me adjusting your size or weight. Because let’s face it, we don’t want to add any more pounds to you than is necessary.”
“Hey,” I said, “I know I don’t work out, but there’s no reason to say I need to lose weight.”
Grandma patted my shoulder. “You’re right, dear. I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep all sensitive topics to myself.”
“Okay, great… Now, what’s your plan for me to get inside to see Roman?”
Grandma rubbed her hands together. With a glint of pleasure sparkling in her eyes, she said, “We’re going to do the oldest trick in the book.”
“What’s that?” I said.
She smiled brightly. “Slip a sleeping potion in the guard’s food.”
“ARE you sure this is going to work?” I said to Grandma.
“Absolutely. The man has to eat. And why wouldn’t he love to accept food from a nice girl?”
I thumbed a free hand toward Reid. “Because she isn’t a nice young girl. In case you hadn’t noticed, her hair is dyed burgundy and she can’t wait to kick me out of my bedroom.”
“Potato, potahto,” Grandma said. “She’s the best choice we have. After all, we can’t send you. He’ll know something is up immediately.”
Reid cuffed my shoulder. “
Yeah, Dylan.” She heaved her bottom up on the marble counter and smacked a wad of gum as she spoke. “Besides, I think he’s taken a fancy to me.”
I quirked a brow. “Fancy? Why, that’s a fancy word.”
Reid blew a bubble. I poked my finger in it, tearing a gash. Reid stuck her tongue at me. “The point is, I’ll get him to eat the food and then you can sneak in. Do you want me to help or not? I could get into a lot of trouble for this, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I shook my head. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. Thank you for helping us. You’re an awesome sister and a lifesaver. In fact, you might be the most awesome sister I have.”
Sera glanced at me over her shoulder. “Hey, I’m the one baking the apple pie.”
I sniffed. Apples and cinnamon filled the air. The scents were so thick I could’ve wrapped myself in them. “Yes, and I thank you for that as well. Is it ready?”
Sera glanced at her watch. “I do believe so.” She slipped a glove on her hand and retrieved the pie from the oven.
She slid it onto the counter. Grandma, Reid and I hovered around the disc. A perfect golden-brown crust held the sleeping potion that Grandma had inserted in the pie recipe, which Sera had baked, making all four of us basically conspirators to knocking out a guard so I could interrogate my fiancé since the police wouldn’t let me speak to him.
“How long before it’s cool?” I said.
Grandma wiggled her fingers over it. A white mist settled over the crust. “It’s cool. Reid, go work your magic.”
Sera plated a slice of pie and handed it off. Grandma eyed Reid up and down. “Wait.” She blew Reid a kiss.
Suddenly her boobs inflated.
My jaw dropped. “What are you doing?”
Grandma shrugged. “Making sure he eats the pie.”
Reid glanced down at her chest. “Hey, I could get used to these. Except now my bra’s tight.”
Sera shook her head. “You know, I’d just be thankful for the boobs. Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“But it’s digging into my shoulders,” Reid whimpered.
Grandma snapped her fingers. Reid straightened. “That’s better. How long after he starts eating will it put him to sleep?”
“Approximately thirty seconds.” She flicked her hands and pushed up her sleeves. “Dylan, that means you’ve got to be ready.”
“I’m ready, willing and able. Don’t worry; I’m going to be so ready this guy isn’t going to know what’s happening… I’m not sure what that meant. I’m ready.”
Reid threw back her shoulders, raising her boobs so high they nearly touched her chin.
“Show-off,” I said.
Reid shot me a triumphant smile as she left. Two minutes later I followed with Grandma close behind. I sneaked from the room down the narrow hallways that led to the dungeon.
“Do you like it?” I heard Reid say.
“Yes, it—”
Then the sound of a body slumping to the floor.
Awesome.
Was that wrong of me? To think it was awesome that I’d knocked someone out?
Probably—but I didn’t care.
I rounded the corner with Grandma on my heels. Reid picked the keys off the unconscious guard.
“Wow, Grandma. These boobs really work. I don’t think he looked me in the eye once.”
I cringed. “Maybe they looked a little too good. Whatever happened to women’s liberation? You know, that we’re equal and stuff?”
Grandma pushed me aside. “Save it, Dylan. I’m going to put Reid back to normal in a few minutes; then she’ll be boobless just like you.”
I scoffed. “I have boobs, thank you very much.”
“Then you need a better bra, dear. I’ll see what I can do for you.”
I smacked my forehead and said, “Can you please just open the door?”
Grandma found the right key and jangled it inside the lock. The tumblers churned until I heard the distinct snick of the lock. I pushed the door. The hinges screeched as it swung open.
I took a deep breath.
“Hurry,” Grandma said. “He’ll only be out for about ten minutes.”
I nodded to her and then stepped inside, where I was plunged into darkness.
CHAPTER 9
The hallway snaked and curved, twisting down a stairwell and through a dimly lit hall. A row of cells lined both walls. I found Roman in back, his cell door wide open.
I leaned on the lip of the door. “So technically you could escape any time you wanted to.”
He glanced up from a book he was reading. Roman scowled when he saw me. “What’re you doing here?”
“Breaking you out.”
His eyes flared with concern before settling back into slitty wedges of annoyance. “I hope that’s not true.”
“It’s not. I’m here to find out what happened. Pearbottom isn’t telling me anything.”
Roman raked his fingers through his super-short haircut. “That’s because I told him not to.”
I smacked my lips. “That’s what he said. But you and I both know if anyone is going to solve this crime, it’s going to be me.
“I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m keeping you away from me, away from this drama. I’ve told Pearbottom not to let you in so people won’t think we’re in on this together.”
“I know you didn’t kill her.”
Roman rubbed his eyes. “How about a hug?”
The tension in my shoulders disappeared. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Every inch of me yearned to be held by him. I threw myself into the cell and wrapped my hands around his waist.
I heard metal scraping stone. I glanced down. Steel links hooked from the wall to a cuff around Roman’s ankle. Anger burned inside me.
“They chained you like an animal.”
“Just hug me.”
I did as he said, inhaling the scent of leather that always clung to him, closed my eyes and did everything I could not to cry.
“It wasn’t Sheila,” I finally said. “It was a woman named Angelique Kiln.”
Roman pushed me back. “Kiln, you said?”
I nodded. “You know her.”
He scowled. His green eyes became turbulent, angry. “Yes. I know her well. Sent her to prison years ago for impersonating dead people.”
I grimaced. “That’s disgusting. Seems like she didn’t learn her lesson.”
Roman shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”
I gnawed the inside of my lip for a moment. “I hate to ask, but I have to—what happened up there?”
Roman dropped his hands from my shoulders. “I argued with her—with that woman. Told her I was sorry for what had happened, but I explained that we weren’t together anymore. I knew it wasn’t Sheila, I never had any doubt, but you can’t just go around working transformation spells on people, trying to uncover their true face.”
I crossed my arms. “Why not?”
“First of all because you could seriously injure someone; the second is that it’s basically not polite in witch society to do that. There are rules, as you’ve learned.”
“I have. What else happened?”
Roman rubbed his head. “I told her that I would help her however I could, but that I was marrying you. She grabbed hold of me, tried to stop me—which wasn’t something I could ever have seen the real Sheila doing. I turned to leave and heard a her scream. When I turned back around, Sheila was going over the rail to her death.”
“Angelique,” I corrected.
He nodded. “Pearbottom said it was her?”
I rubbed a cold chill from my arms. “He did.”
Long pause from Roman.
“I’m taking it he hasn’t come talked to you yet.”
Roman shook his head. “Nope.” His face darkened.
“I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon, but in case he doesn’t, I’m here to help you. Tell me what I need to know.”
Roman’s face tensed. I could see the war inside him. Should he
tell me? Would I be more protected if I knew, or if I didn’t? Was it smarter to tell me or not? With Pearbottom withholding information, I was pretty sure which way this one would go.
And to be honest, I felt a twinge of self-satisfaction in the knowledge that I would win this round. Not that I needed to compete with Roman’s feelings, but there was a little bit of competitiveness inside me.
At least I’m honest about it and not one of those people who says, No, I don’t care if I win or lose, but you know that deep down they really do care—they care more than you probably care.
Well, at least I wasn’t one of those liars.
I’m competitive, thank you very much.
“Angelique is a fairy by birth. Clothar will know all about her. He’s the first person to ask.”
I pecked him on the cheek. “I’m going to get you out of this—even if I have to break you out.”
Roman tipped his chin to the side. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.” He rubbed his hands over my cheeks and threaded his fingers in my hair. “I’ve had to run from the law, Dylan. It’s not something I would wish on anyone, especially not you.”
Okay, so I pushed my immaturity aside and nodded. “I’ll help however I can. We’ll get you out of this. I love you,” I whispered hoarsely.
His gaze was sad, heartbreaking. My heart withered as I saw my love sitting in a cold cell, one lamp lighting the space and a chain clamped around his ankle. It was like Roman was this great beast that the witch police didn’t know how to contain, and because of that, he was relegated to a dungeon and clamped like an animal.
“I’ll be back soon,” I said. “And when I am, we’ll be setting you free.”
I turned away. Roman’s hand tightened around mine. “You haven’t asked where we’re going to be spending our honeymoon.”
A smile flickered on my lips. “You wanted to keep it a surprise, remember? I want it to stay that way, because I’ll be darned if I end up missing my honeymoon. That’s not going to happen.”
Roman chuckled. “That’s the Dylan I know.”
I smiled sadly at him. “I’ve always been the Dylan you know. There have been times when I’ve wavered, but I’ve always been me.”
