by Amy Boyles
"Oh, y'all," Sera said. "That is so funny."
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. "I needed a good laugh. Ha! Witches. So if we're witches, who are you, the boogeyman?"
We laughed again. The woman's cheeks shifted to bloodred. Seriously. Who walks into a store and calls people witches? Obviously she was crazy. Had she recently escaped from the loony bin? Were people looking for her? I reached for the phone in my pocket. Time to dial 911.
The woman rubbed her forehead. "Good grief. Couldn't Hazel have told you anythin'?"
I jerked my head at the mention of my grandmother. Attention! New level of creep factor achieved. "How do you know about her?"
She pouted her lips while sucking in her cheeks. Even creepier. "I've known your grandmother since she was a little girl."
Okay, crazy lady. "Don't you mean, since you were a little girl?"
A trill bubbled from the back of her throat. "Girls, it's about time someone told you exactly who you are." She grasped the back of a chair and dug her nails in. "Y'all are witches. I'm Esmerelda Pommelton, Queen Witch of the South. And I am ninety-eight and a half years old."
I snickered.
"Don't people stop counting halves when they're like ten?" Reid asked.
"Apparently until you reach your nineties. Then it's back in again," Sera said.
I stood up. I'd had it with this crap. "I appreciate you stopping by, but I have no idea who you are, and this is a sensitive time. Someone just died. Thanks but no thanks." I crossed to the door and opened it.
Esmerelda snapped her fingers.
A small ball of fire hovered over her hand. Orange and red flames licked the air, crackling as they fed on oxygen. The orb started spinning.
Holy crap.
Crimson and orange twirled like a barbershop pole. The ball tightened and elongated, taking on the form of a curvaceous woman rocking her hips back and forth. The doorknob slipped from my fingers. Well, okay then. I guess this kind of changed things.
"Wow. That's a neat trick. Can you teach me how to do that?" Reid asked.
"I don't think that's a trick," Sera whispered.
I exchanged dumbstruck looks with my sisters.
The woman smiled. "Now that I have your attention, your lives are in danger."
***
"We've been watchin' your family for a while," Em (she preferred that to Esmeralda) explained. "When your grandmother left Savannah nearly twenty years ago, she never told any of us where she was headin'. We eventually found her and have spent the last few years watchin' from a distance."
"Until now," I said.
"Until now." She folded her hands and delicately cupped them over one knee. Her long, tapered fingers reminded me of a woman in a classical painting. Ivory skin, long, well-constructed bones—the type an aristocrat owned. Too bad her redneck accent ruined it.
"So you're still holding tight on being ninety-eight," I said. It's not that I didn't believe her. I mean, the woman lit fire from her hand, and she wasn't even wearing sleeves. But come on, she didn't look a second over thirty.
Em threw me a disdainful glance—the kind old ladies perfect. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps under that creamy skin lay a shriveled-up octogenarian. I know, technically an octogenarian would be in their eighties. I am aware, thank you.
"Like I said, I'm ninety-eight and a half years old. One of my talents is longevity. I age, but very slowly. Y'all will probably age like ordinary Joe Shmoes, but I've placed a lot of my magic in stayin' young."
"Why's that?" I asked.
Her eyes widened like it was the stupidest question on earth. "Because I'm Queen Witch of the South." Like, duh. "It took me a long time to get here, and I ain't lettin' my throne go to waste because of somethin' as silly as death."
That made sense.
Not at all.
Sera held a hand over her mouth, hiding a smile.
"What do you find so funny?" Em said.
"I can't help it. Whenever you say Queen Witch, all I can think of is Queen Bit—"
She threw her arms into the air. "That's enough! If y'all want to survive until the summer solstice, by all means, make jokes. Laugh at the fact that a witch is trying to kill you. Go ahead. If you don't want my help rootin' out who spelled your dress, continue to act like idiots. But if you want to live—and by that I mean survive to see your next birthday—shut up and start acting like adults."
Someone was certainly testy. We sat in silence. Reid braided a strand of hair, Sera rubbed her arms and I simply watched.
"Now then. I take it I have the floor." She looked at each of us before continuing. "There're witches who choose to increase their power, not by learnin' and refinin', but by stealin' magic. They seek out other witches and take their power. So when ignorant kittens like yourselves go around announcin' to the world, in a newspaper article of all things”—she shook her head in disgust—"that you're witches, you draw bad elements to you like a ship to a lighthouse."
"What if the lighthouse is turned off?" Reid said. "Won't the ship crash and burn?"
"It's too late for any turnin' off. Half the state knows what you are, and since plenty of witches aren't officially registered, that makes it impossible for me to know who's trying to kill you."
"Witches are registered?" Sera asked. "Like in a book?"
Em ran a finger under her chin like she was feeling for coarse hairs. "Yes. That's how we keep track of each other. But like I said, plenty don't register, choosin' to stay unknown."
"But I don't understand what happened with my gift," I said. "I've never known anyone before to see an image of themselves from their youth. My clothing may offer the feeling, but never a mirage, or a vision."
Em shrugged. "There aren't always answers to every question. Magic is a strange beast. Most likely it changed, morphing as you've aged—like our bodies going from childhood to puberty to adulthood."
Okay. "So let me get this straight," I said. "We're witches, apparently, and there's another witch out there trying to kill us because they want our power."
She plucked something from her face. Probably one of those hairs her fingers had been searching for. "Bingo. Y'all are descended from a long line of witches. It's a shame your grandmother never told you, but there ain't nothin' I can do about it now."
I squinted as if that would help me understand this craziness any better. "So you don't know who killed Reagan because they're not registered in your book?"
"Right."
"That's not very helpful," I said. "I mean, if you're going to show up and turn our worlds upside down, then maybe you should've had an idea about where to start looking for clues."
Em pulled out a compact and powdered the tip of her nose. "I'm a witch, not a mind reader. And watch your tone, little girl." She snapped the compact shut with a click.
Who was she calling little girl? "Sorry," I said drily. "I've never met a Queen Witch before. I don't know how people talk to you, but I'm not about to bow down just because you can do some silly parlor trick."
"Silly parlor trick?" Em's eyes narrowed to slits. A sudden breeze blew through the store, lifting my hair. My clothes fluttered, fighting against the wind. Something told me it wasn't the air conditioner kicking on.
"Uh-oh," Sera whispered. "I don't think you should've said that."
I turned to her. "I don't appreciate being told someone wants to kill me, and then not have the faintest clue where to start looking."
Sera's eyes grew bigger. "I think you should apologize."
Clothes swayed on the racks. The hangers ground against the metal bars as they swung to and fro, higher and higher. A stack of papers on my desk lifted and flapped like a deck of cards being shuffled by an invisible hand. In the corner a miniature tornado tumbled about. It edged to the center, where it caught the papers and swallowed them in its whirling cyclone. The funnel danced through the room, heading straight for a line of my best gowns.
Fear gripped my throat. I did not, I repeat, did not want to have
to remake any of those dresses. It had taken practically forever to get them out, and the last thing I needed was some witch lady with a bad temper ruining them.
I jumped to my feet. "Okay! I'm sorry. You're a witch. These aren't parlor tricks, and I appreciate you warning us about the killer."
The wind vanished, sending a storm of papers fluttering to the floor.
Em tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "If you're finished complainin', I'm here to help you."
"That's good," I said in my most cheery voice. Sera scowled at me. "I'm for real. I'm not being fake," I said as I slowly sank back into my chair.
Em rose. "Dylan, let's get one thing straight—it wasn't your magic that caused that girl's death. Someone placed a spell on that dress. That spell was meant for you. Not your sisters. You."
I rubbed my thighs. It wasn't cold in the store, but I couldn't help but feel chilled, as if the entire situation had zapped the warmth from me. "Whoever did this killed Reagan. We may not have been best friends, but she didn't deserve to die—especially when she wasn't even the intended victim." A thought occurred to me. "Em, you said bad witches want to steal power from others. How can they do that if the spell kills the person? Like, if I'd put on the dress, would it have killed me and the person then somehow got my power?"
Em paced the room. "You can't take magic if the victim is dead. That there spell backfired."
"So you're saying the person isn't a very good witch," Reid said.
Em paused. "Honey, she ain't good at all."
I shuddered. "And the person who did that to the dress—they had obviously been in here."
Em nodded.
I dropped my head in my hands. "Someone who was a customer got close to my dress and spelled it, as you say."
"Do you have a record of everyone you helped in the last few day?" Sera asked.
I shook my head. "No. We've been so busy since the article, I haven't kept track. Besides, I didn't even recognize half of them." Great. Super great. There was no way to narrow down who the killer was.
Sera raised her hand.
"Yes?" Em asked.
"One question. If you can't take the power when someone's dead, how do you take it?"
Em regarded us for a moment. "You skin ’em just like a rabbit. Only the witch is alive."
Ew. Super ew. I did not plan on dying by being skinned alive. Gross. And seriously painful. Who would do that? Only some sort of deranged person.
"So someone wants to skin me alive?" I asked.
"Yes." She stopped, stared at us. "And y'all need to be ready for ’em. In your current state, y'all are completely vulnerable. I need to awaken your power. That way, you'll be able to learn the magic you need to protect yourselves."
"Awaken our power," Reid said. "How?"
"Join hands," Em said.
Sera whispered in my ear, "Are you sure we should do this?"
"Right now I'm not sure of anything. But it's not like it can make things worse. Besides, you might be able to learn that little fireball trick."
"Good point," she said.
We formed a circle.
Em chanted a few words under her breath. A flash of light filled the room while a surge of electricity streamed down my spine. My entire body tingled, and my breath balled up in the back of my throat.
"You can release each other."
I let go of my sisters’ hands. My head swam as if my brain had been dunked in nitrous oxide. I stumbled forward. Em caught me.
"Steady. The power takes a little gettin' used to, but by dinnertime you won't notice a thing."
I sat down and massaged my temples. My sisters joined me on the couch.
Em arranged the bangles on her arm. "Chicklets, your power has been released. You're officially witches."
"What were we before?" Sera asked.
"Before, you were a little more than ants and a lot less than a witch." Em gave me a weary smile. "Now you can perform magic and hopefully”—her gaze swept from our feet to our crowns—"not be as bad as you look."
I tried not to be insulted by that.
"However," she said, "since y'all are freshly born witches, that also means that from now until the summer solstice, your magic will peak. It will grow stronger by the minute, until the longest day of the year. After that your magic will settle down. This is normal. Every witch goes through it, but most have the skill required to protect themselves because this is also a dangerous time, you know, since you have more power to steal."
I raised my palm, indicating for her to stop. "Let's rewind. Someone wants to kill me for my power—power that I didn't even know I had. And now, for the next two weeks that power will peak, which means if they kill me before the solstice, they get even more of that power."
"Y'all are some fast learners."
"Which also means they'll probably try harder to kill me."
Em cocked her head back and forth. "Yep. But the good news is, I'm here to protect you."
"Why will you protect us?" Sera asked.
Em pulled a tube of lipstick from her purse and applied a layer of red. She smacked her lips. "It ain't good to have rogue witches stealing people's magic. That much power could make someone…let's just say, unstoppable. They could do real damage to the council, never mind upper management."
"Council?" I asked.
"Of witches," she said. "Eliminate us, cause a witch war. There hasn't been one for sixty years, and I'm not about to see one happen on my watch."
"You said Dylan and Sera," Reid said. "Am I a witch, too?"
Em crossed to her, grasped her chin in her hand and turned Reid's head right and left. She inspected her face with care until finally releasing it.
"No."
"Oh," Reid said, dropping her gaze. Poor girl. All she wanted in the whole wide world was for her gift to come in. She'd need some chocolate-sundae therapy after this. I'd be happy to oblige.
"It might still come, but as of now, you ain't got a stitch of power." Em lifted her finger. "Which, if you think about it, is good for you. No one wants to kill you."
"I guess," Reid grumbled.
Em shouldered her purse. "Tomorrow we'll begin basic lessons on protection," Em said. "Y'all need to close your shops for the week. We'll work here."
"But the solstice is two weeks away," I said. "What could we possibly learn that will protect us from some crazy witch murderer?"
Em smiled. "If you work hard, I think you'll be satisfied with the results. Get a good night's sleep. You're going to need plenty of rest. Oh. And bring lots of water. Hydration is key to good spelling."
Okay, Mom. Should I also bring my yoga mat so I can nap after lunch?
Em left, and the three of us looked at each other.
"Looks like we're in some serious shi—"
"At least you didn't kill Reagan," Sera said.
That was true. Upside—I didn't kill Reagan Eckhart. Downside—someone wanted me dead. One point for downside. Darn it. I should've stayed in bed today.
CHAPTER SIX
When I got out of my car, a tingle washed over the back of my neck. There it was again. I felt that someone was hiding in the darkness, watching me. Who would be watching me?
It hit me—the killer. Of course! I had been the target of the spell that killed Reagan. That meant—
I ushered my sisters inside and bolted the door behind us.
And wedged a chair beneath the knob.
And looked for a plank of wood so I could nail the door shut.
Sera grabbed my arm. "What's going on?"
"I think someone's spying on us."
She turned off all the lights. I heard the low hum of a television coming from the back. Nan's usual nightly routine involved unwinding with the boob tube. She'd probably already put Grandma to bed. Good. I didn't want to have to explain what was going on.
We crouched over to the large window in the living room and nestled on the couch. I lifted the blinds to see out.
"You realize the porch light
is on," Reid said. "If someone's watching the house, they can see us peeking out."
"Turn it off, then, Miss Smarty-pants," I said.
"I think I will."
She did. We glanced up and down the street. Rain earlier in the day had washed the road clean. Streetlights reflected in shallow pools that on a dry day were normally potholes. Drops of water lay scattered over cars that had been parked during the shower. Since I'd arrived later, there weren't any drops on mine.
"See if there are any cars that look dry," I said.
We scanned up and down. "There," Sera said. "That black SUV. It looks dry."
I squinted, unable to make out if someone sat in the car or not.
"Where are your binoculars?" I asked her.
"The ones from when we played 'spy' like, fifteen years ago?"
Was that supposed to embarrass me? It didn't. "Yeah, those."
"Reid has them."
I pushed a strand of hair from my face. "Why do you have them?"
"I use them for bird-watching."
"Right. And cardinals poop on my head. You better not be watching Rick undress."
"I'm not," she said with a load of guilt.
Rick Beck lived next door. Tall, dark-headed, and twenty-two. When he moved in six months ago, Reid had deemed him the perfect guy. It also helped that Rick was in the habit of mowing his yard shirtless like, every day.
I cocked my head toward my youngest sister. "I don't need the police to stop by with an arrest warrant for a peeping Tom."
"I'm not spying on him."
"How hot is he? I mean, I've seen him in the yard, but I haven't really paid much attention," Sera said.
"You can't even begin to believe," Reid said.
"Just go get the binoculars," I growled.
Reid pushed off the couch. "Okay, missy miss. Someone is certainly a crab apple today. Personally you don't know when to thank your lucky stars. You two are witches, and I'm a big nothing."
Crap. I'd forgotten all about the ice cream sundae. I'd get on that right after this. "Someone is trying to kill me, Reid. Can you please keep things in perspective?"
She huffed and went to fetch the binoculars.
