Seashells, Spells & Caramels: A Cozy Witch Mystery

by Erin Johnson

  “No!” Hank huffed and put a hand on his father’s arm. “I know her. It’s all right.”

  The king gave me a sharp look, then lifted a palm. The four guards who’d rushed forward stopped short, but kept their golden lances pointed at me. My heart pumped in my chest.

  Hank’s throat bobbed and he licked his lips. He lowered his voice. “What do you mean, poison?”

  “Drop the act, Hank.” My voice, though it trembled, came out louder than I thought myself capable of in that moment. “I know you’re not who you claim to be. And my bet is, that cake is poisoned.”

  I looked at the princess. Shaday watched me with her intelligent, dark almond-shaped eyes that turned up at the outer corners. Her smooth caramel-brown skin glittered with freckles. With her unflappable expression and poise she looked every bit royalty. “Princess, I know I seem like a crazy woman. But don’t eat that cake!”

  She looked down at the gold fork in her hand, the chocolate cake resting on the end of it, then at me. She held her face so still, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

  Hank slammed a fist down on the table, startling me. “Stop this,” he hissed. “I know—I know you have questions, and I will answer them all, but now is not the time.” His blue eyes blazed.

  “Test it! I beg you, test it for poison. He killed Glenn!” I pointed at Hank, shouting to be heard over the gasps and murmurs from the guests behind me.

  “Enough of this,” the king spat. He pointed a bejeweled finger down at me. “Arrest her! And eat your cake,” he added testily, glancing at his wife and son, and the Fire Kingdom royalty to his left.

  The guards lunged forward and something in me, some instinct, reacted. I don’t know how I did it, but I felt it, a pull. I pulled from each of the four guards simultaneously, a thick stream of golden light from each, and drew it into my center, right above my belly button.

  I took a long, deep inhale, feeling stronger, taller, and more alive. At the same time the guards crumpled to the ground, unconscious, screams rising up behind me.

  As Shaday’s parents and the king and queen froze, their forks almost to their mouths, I pulled again. I had to stop them. All I could think was, I have to get the poison out of that cake. I threw my arms out, fingers spread wide, and pulled, pulled with every ounce of magic I had inside me.

  Dark green bubbling streams flowed into me this time, oozing out of the bites on the forks. The queen saw it. Her eyes grew wide and she screeched and dropped her fork. Shaday paled and dropped hers as well, dark eyes blazing. I pulled not just from the bites on the forks, but from the actual cake itself, the green murky sludge shooting straight into my core.

  The impact knocked my head back and as the green sludge flowed through me, as the poison flowed through me, I grew weaker and weaker. I dropped hard on my knees, but even that pain didn’t compare to the burning in my stomach, the ache in every inch of my body. I couldn’t even manage a scream; the pain choked it out of me.

  I collapsed to the ground, curled in on myself. I gasped for breath, but the relentless cramping in my stomach made even breathing difficult. I closed my aching eyes, my whole body now trembling and twitching.

  “Guards!” the king shouted. “Guards!”

  “Father, she doesn’t need to be arrested. She needs a medic! Look at her!” Hank shouted, his voice rough. “She was right, don’t you see? The cake was poisoned, and she swallowed it. Medic! Medic!”

  I seemed cocooned in a bubble of pain. The screams and pounding footsteps all around me barely registered. But I found the voice to scream when strong arms slid under me and lifted me up. I gagged and felt foamy liquid trickle over my chin. I blinked my aching eyes open and looked up into a familiar face. Nate! Nate had lifted me into his arms. I dipped my head and pressed into him, my body tensing with another round of cramps. I moaned through gritted teeth.

  “Nate. Take her to the infirmary, I’ll meet you there.” Hank’s voice again.

  No. I tried to mentally communicate with Nate. No, don’t take me there, he’ll kill me. Maybe you, too. But all I could manage was to scrunch my eyes tight against the pain and groan. I bumped along in Nate’s arms, and the din quieted.

  I peeled an eye open. He ran with me down a corridor, waiters and maids pressing themselves against the walls to make way for us. Good, we’d left the chaos of the dining hall. My stomach twisted and my head lurched forward. I vomited up another round of white-green foam. That couldn’t be healthy.

  Nate ran and ran, and though normally a trip in his arms would have been lovely, I wanted badly to be on the ground again, puking my guts up in peace, instead of being bumped and jostled with every step. Through blurry, half-closed eyes I watched our progress.

  He ran, twisting and turning through hallways, until we stopped at a heavy metal door full of rivets. Nate fumbled with some keys, cursing when he dropped them, and stooped awkwardly with me to retrieve them. He opened the door and jogged down a tightly winding stone staircase. I relaxed a little. The air here felt cooler on my burning skin and the darkness was a relief to my sensitive eyes.

  Nate’s footsteps echoed around the stone space, the only other sound a persistent drip, drip, dripping. Nate deposited me on a hard surface. I blinked and patted around with my trembling hands. I lay on a table, a stone table, in a stone room with no windows. We must be far underground.

  “Where?” I gasped. At another stomach cramp, I rolled to my side and tucked my knees up to my chest, the soft blue fabric of my dress pooling around my legs.

  Nate closed a heavy metal door and turned. He swallowed, his chest heaving, and fixed me with his dark eyes. “We’re in the dungeons, Imogen.”

  27

  Nate

  Dungeons? That’s not how I pronounced infirmary. Another cramp sent me into a fit of agony.

  “Do you know how much poison was in that cake?” Nate’s voice sounded closer. Through the fog of my pain I became aware that something wasn’t quite right.

  Uh, if I had, pretty sure I wouldn’t have magically sucked it up.

  I peeled an eye open. Nate paced back and forth in front of the stone table. He pulled at his thick, black hair. Is this what his emergency medical training taught him to do? He deserved a refund.

  “Enough to kill the entire royal families from both kingdoms. You just ingested enough poison to kill fifteen people, Imogen. Why?” His face hovered inches from mine. “Sea snakes, you’re fading. You’re fading. I’ve got to do something.” He resumed stalking back and forth.

  How did he know how much poison had been in that cake?

  “You tried to kill them.” My voice sounded foreign to me, a hoarse, quavering whisper. My teeth chattered.

  Nate gritted his teeth. “Stop looking at me like that. Stop it!”

  I flinched. “You killed Glenn? And Nan?” I retched up some more white foam. “And now you’re going to kill me.”

  He jabbed a finger at me. “You swallowed that poison. I liked you. I still do.”

  “You tried to frame me!” I groaned, clutching my stomach. My feet and toes cramped and my throat burned.

  “No, Imogen. No. That was Pritney.”

  He pulled at his hair.

  “She’s a mediocre baker at best. I had to sneak her potions that would make the judges like her bakes—the last one, the day of the final, was spelled to make them dislike yours and Maple’s. She came to see me for them, or I’d hide them in the garden. Glenn caught her digging up a potion in the garden that day. She tried to bribe him to keep quiet, but he was going to tell the judges. It would have ruined months of undercover work. I didn’t want to kill him, but it was the only way. Pritney spelled her dragon cake to burn him and when he went to see me, I administered the snake venom.”

  Something I’d read flashed into my head, about snake venom being used for medicine. “And since you’re a medic, you were allowed to bring it into the tent. They didn’t make you pass through the magical security field,” I panted.

  “Exactly
. Exactly, see you understand? But framing you, that was all Pritney. I was so furious with her for that. When Glenn collapsed, and I rushed to his side, she pulled the vial of poison off me and dumped it into his bake, so it looked like it was the bite he took that had killed him. And since you’d accidentally taken his dough, you looked guilty.”

  He shook his head.

  “I kept telling her that you weren’t the enemy. It’s those smug, elitist princes and princesses out there. They’re who we’re fighting. Let’s throw a great party, while the citizens outside our golden walls are ripped apart by monsters.” Nate shook his head. “If you knew what I had gone through, you’d understand and you’d want to help, I know you would, Imogen. So I’m going to save you.”

  “Yes,” I croaked. I would never want to join him, but I could tell him that after he healed me.

  He shook his head. “I only have basic training. It was an act, a way to get me inside.” He pulled out a wand and held it above me, his other palm hovering over my stomach. “I’ll do my best.” Light flashed from his wand, and I felt a momentary relief from the pain. I opened my eyes, only to squeeze them shut again as the pain returned.

  “Aahhh!”

  Nate tried another spell, and another and another.

  “Take me to a healer,” I ground out, writhing on the stone table.

  “I can’t. I can’t, they’ll arrest me.”

  “You’d rather let me die?” How had I ever liked this guy?

  “I’ll get it right. Pritney would tell me to let you die. But I don’t care if she’s Horace’s latest fling, he and I have been friends since we were children. I know he’d want a swallow for the army.”

  A swallow? What did he mean? And Horace! The man wanted for being leader of the Badlands Army? This was Nate’s cause?

  I groaned. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I just wanted the pain to stop. The cold stone below me made my hip and shoulder ache, and the musty smell of the damp room made me even more nauseous.

  A loud crash sent my eyes flying open. The metal door to the room exploded open and swung hard against the stone wall behind it. Hank ducked his tall frame into the room, wand pointed at Nate, who spun on him, his own wand drawn.

  Hank growled. “I knew you were trouble. Even back in the tent, I knew.”

  Nate spat at him. “You don’t know me at all, Prince.”

  “Let me take her to a real healer.”

  Nate shook his head and crouched, his back to me. Hank advanced on him. “She’s with us now.”

  Hank’s face darkened and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “She’ll be no good to you dead.”

  Nate lunged, and a ball of fire shot from his wand. Hank dove out of the way. Nate fired again and again at him, as Hank dodged in the small room. The heat of the fire made my head swim.

  Suddenly, Hank threw a hand out, catching the fire in his palm. Nate cried out as Hank continued to stretch his palm toward Nate. A thick thread of golden light flew from the medic into Hank’s hand. Hank blinked and shook his head to clear it as Nate dropped limp and unconscious to the floor.

  “That’s what I did with the guards, isn’t it?” I muttered as Hank rushed to my side and scooped an arm under my head as a pillow.

  He knelt beside me. “Yes. I’m a swallow. And I think we just discovered that you are as well.”

  “Why does everyone keep calling me that? And why does it sound so naughty?”

  Hank coughed out a laugh. “I’ll explain later. Did he tell you anything about the poison they used?”

  I shook my head the tiniest fraction, but even that much movement had me retching again, though nothing came up. “You really are a prince?” I gasped.

  Hank pressed his lips together and nodded. Ever so gently, he brushed my damp bangs out of my eyes, his eyes dancing over my face.

  My eyelids fluttered and the world went dark. Shooting pain woke me back up.

  “Stay with me, Imogen.” Hank shook me until I opened my eyes. “Swallows can pull from others, that’s how we summon our magic, you and me. I’m going to siphon the poison out of you.” His chest heaved. “I think you’re only alive because you pulled strength from those four guards before ingesting it. Otherwise you’d be….” He shook his head. “It’s had time to work its way deep into your system—it’s easiest to siphon with direct contact, is that all right?”

  “Yes,” I croaked. If getting the poison out involved walking over hot coals, I’d do it at this point. Well, if I could stand, which I seriously doubted.

  Hank leaned over me and held my hand in both of his. His palms felt wonderfully cool against my burning skin. He closed his eyes, and I felt the slightest tug, the tiniest easing of pain in my fingertips.

  His eyes flew open. “Not enough.” Hank leaned closer and pressed his forehead to mine, cupping my face in both his palms. I closed my eyes in relief, the cool of him like heaven against my hot, clammy forehead. My headache eased slightly, along with the cramp in my jaw.

  My eyes opened, no longer aching. His face hovered an inch above mine, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. I found the strength to lift my chin and press my lips against his. He froze for just a moment, and then pressed his mouth hungrily against mine.

  With the arm under me, he pulled me closer, our kiss deepening. With his free hand, he ran a thumb down my jaw. All my pain slipped away as I savored this kiss. A kiss unlike any I had ever experienced. Then, it changed.

  Hank tensed, and I felt the pull as he siphoned the poison from my veins. I could feel it drag out of my toes and joints and bones, out of my stomach and neck. As he pulled more, he stumbled back, letting me go. A floating green rope of poison connected us, flowing from me to him. And then the connection broke and Hank fell back against one of the stone walls, slumping to the floor.

  He sat, his long legs splayed out in front of him, his head lolling to the side. I panted on the table. I felt better, slightly, but my stomach still cramped. The arm I’d lifted for Hank dropped onto the stone table.

  “You—” I paused to catch my breath. “—don’t look so good.”

  Hank gave a dry chuckle. “You’re one to talk.” His chest heaved as he stared at me, his blue eyes troubled. “I got some, but not enough.” He shook his head. “I should have thought of this earlier.” He leaned his head back against the hard wall, tilting his chin in the air. “Francis!” His voice echoed all around the room.

  Like, Francis, Francis? The vampire baking judge? He would not have been my first choice of backup in this situation.

  With a pop of smoke, the vampire materialized in the room. He turned to Hank in the corner.

  “Hey. I thought no one could do that.”

  Francis and Hank turned to me in surprise. Hank smiled. “Francis is an exception to a lot of rules.” He turned his gaze to the vampire. “She’s poisoned. I took as much as I could but it’s strong. I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left.”

  “Say no more.” Francis floated over to me, kicking Nate’s unconscious body out of the way. He placed all ten bony, pale fingertips along my collarbones. I recoiled, pressing into the table beneath me. “Don’t worry, Imogen. This won’t hurt, or so I’ve been told. My fangs secrete a numbing agent.”

  I let out a high-pitched whine as Francis dipped his head. I felt two small pricks on my neck and then the whole left side of it went numb.

  I closed my eyes.

  “She tastes of death,” Francis called to Hank. “Yummy.”

  My world went dark.

  28

  The Infirmary

  I woke up screaming and thrashing. It took me several moments to realize I had a fluffy white pillow in a headlock. I blinked rapidly, and my blurry eyes slowly focused.

  Iron-framed beds stretched out in two long rows down a high-ceilinged room with big open windows. Birds chirped just outside the window over my head, and a lazy breeze played with the billowing white curtains. Hank, or rather, Prince Harry, lay on his side in the bed to my right, w
atching me.

  “I think you won.”

  I followed his gaze to the pillow crushed in the crook of my elbow.

  “Poor defenseless pillow.” Hank shook his head.

  My lips twitched toward a smile, but I willed them to stay in a straight line. I didn’t want Hank thinking he’d charmed his way out of all his lies. “You owe me an explanation.”

  Hank took a long breath. He looked up and down the long room, empty except for the two of us and a few nurses who bustled about in the office at one end. He propped himself up on an elbow and slowly rubbed his wrist. “I woke up before you, obviously, so Francis and Amelia have filled me in on some of it.”

  I settled in on my side, facing him. “That too. But I meant—who are you, really?”

  Hank stared at the narrow strip of white tile between us. “I’m sorry. I really am.” He took a deep breath and spoke as he let it out. “I’m Prince Harry.”

  My stomach tightened. I guess part of me had been hoping he’d tell me he was the prince’s body double or something. That he was an ordinary guy. An ordinary guy who’d take a regular girl on a regular date.

  He lifted his eyes. “But Hank’s my nickname.” He looked down again. “I wouldn’t have used it if I’d known my whole family was going to show up at the competition.”

  I watched him. “Why were you in the competition?”

  He played with the edge of a white blanket. “I’ve always loved baking. While my brothers were out practicing their sword fighting and jumping into mud pits, I’d sneak into the kitchens and the bakers would teach me.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “Not that I didn’t have my fair share of fights and mud puddles, too. My father tolerated my interest in baking while I was young, but as I got older he felt it was ‘unprincely,’ so I had to visit the kitchens in secret.”

  He paused and licked his lips. “As the youngest prince, I’ll never be the ruler of this kingdom, but it’s expected that I’ll—that I’ll play a role in diplomatic liaisons, that I’ll help form alliances by—”