by Amy Boyles
"What do I do with it?" Sera asked.
Em regarded her. "Do you want to vanish it?"
Sera shook her head. "No. I want to set something on fire." The ball expanded, growing to the size of a cantaloupe.
Em crossed to Sera, all the while staring at the ball. "Why don't you save that flame for when you need a barbecue lit? Otherwise it's best to make your magic disappear when you ain't got no use for it."
"Okay." The orb grew to the size of a watermelon. Flames licked the air. My cheeks grew hot. I glanced at Reid, who wiped a line of sweat from her upper lip.
I guessed that Sera wanted to burn Tim's house down. Who could blame her? I didn't. See? That's why I didn't date. If you didn't put your heart on the line, it wouldn't get broken. Very sensible. And then you wouldn't do stupid things like make a dangerous fireball.
"Chickadee," Em said. "Think it gone and it will be."
Sera glared at her. "I'm not ready to let it go just yet." The flames shuddered. The orb inflated to the size of a beach ball.
Uh-oh. It bobbed a few inches below the ceiling. Fingers of fire crackled at the plaster.
Are ceilings flammable? Like super easy flammable or only kinda sorta?
"Okay," Em said. She tossed a nervous glance my way. I sighed and took the hint.
I stepped up to bat. "What are you going to do with that fire?"
"Stare at it until it burns a hole in my retinas."
"That doesn't sound particularly healthy," I said.
"It's not."
"Why don't you do something more constructive with it?"
"Like what?"
I squeezed her arm. "Like vanish it until you really need it. Use it to scare whatever witch wants us dead."
"Hmpf. That doesn't sound like fun."
The ball pushed into the ceiling. A wave of heat engulfed my body. If the fire grew any larger, my shop would be in big trouble. I'd lose my dresses and have to start all over. Totally uncool.
"Burning Tim's house won't give you any satisfaction. You'll regret it later and feel childish."
Sera's chest heaved as she exhaled. She stared at the ball and then back at me. "Okay." With a snap of her fingers, she vanished the flame. Thank goodness. I wiped away the sheen of sweat that covered my face.
Sera bent her knees and deflated to the floor. She tapped her palm on the carpet and looked up at Em. "Well, I guess I've got that mastered. What else can we learn today?"
Em brought a shaking hand to her forehead. "That's all for now. Rest up. We'll start fresh tomorrow."
I stared at the smudge on the ceiling. "When will I be able to open my shop again?"
Em glanced up at me, her eyes filled with surprise. I don't know why; it was a logical question. "You can open your shop in a few days."
Great. That gave me time to fix the fire stain.
***
We broke for the rest of the morning, and I decided, since Milly hadn't been much (or any) help, that I'd visit the police station and see if Detective Blount had any leads. I know. I know. The murderer used magic to kill. Probably the police hadn't or wouldn't discover anything. I still had to see, though. I threw Sera the keys to my car and stalked over to the assassin's vehicle.
I slid into the passenger side. "Don't you ever sleep?"
"What's that?" He removed his sunglasses. My breath hitched when his sea-green eyes met mine. It's okay. I'm cool. He had the big moment with Sera and all. Not that she cared with the emotional state she was in, but they had it. Not him and me.
I cleared the knot from my throat. "I mean, you're always around. Always, um, guarding us."
He smiled. My bones liquified. I think they actually popped and fizzled.
"I sleep a few hours in the early morning, while Em's teaching you."
"Only a few hours?"
"I'm trained to get by on little sleep." As if that explained everything.
"Okay. Got it." We sat in silence.
"Did you want me to take you somewhere?"
Ha. Oh yeah. Green eyes made me forget. "Yes, yes I did. Do. I do want you take me somewhere."
"Okay. Where?"
I tightened the strap of my purse. "The police station."
"The station it is."
For some reason I thought he'd argue the point. That he wouldn't want to go or would question me excessively about it. "That's it? No argument?"
"Darlin'." A shudder ran down my spine. "I'll take you wherever you want to go."
It was official. I had melted onto the seat. Roman would have to scrape me off. I think I nodded. I'm not certain if I replied at all. But first thing I knew, we were parked outside the station. Roman unclasped his seat belt.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He glanced around. "Is that a trick question? Inside. With you."
"Why?" It came out gruff. I extended my hand and touched his arm. A bolt shocked my skin. I lifted my eyes to his. He smiled. My cheeks burned. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. What I meant to say was, you don't have to come in with me."
He smirked. "My job is to keep you safe. Let's go."
"Okay. But do you have to wear that duster?"
He glanced down at his coat. "This? It hides all my weapons."
"It makes you look like an assassin."
He laughed, a deep-bellied baritone. "I haven't been one of those in a long time."
I gulped. Oh my God. He really was an assassin. Sera would die!
"But you're right. I can't take this in. The metal detectors will blare loud enough to bring in the army."
Hey. It wasn't a great reason to lose the duster, but it would work. Roman's shadow swallowed me as we walked toward the municipal building. As tall as a quarterback with the girth of a wide receiver, the man made me feel like a dwarf. But I had to say, I definitely felt protected with him at my side.
He pulled the door. The suction hold released, blowing manufactured air over my body. The cool breeze tickled the hairs on the back of my neck, sending a chill down my spine. I approached the desk officer.
"Is Detective Blount available? I'm Dylan Apel."
He picked up the phone and made a call. Fluorescents buzzed overhead, their totally unflattering light probably making me look sallow and old. Gross. I hated harsh lighting. What girl didn't?
He hung up the receiver. "Follow me."
Roman and I walked past a room of open desks, officers working. It looked like a quiet day in Silver Springs. Except there was a murderer on the loose. Of course, none of these folks had to worry. They weren't the intended victim. That would be me.
The officer deposited us outside an office rimmed in glass. A stereotypical police office. Dingy beige blinds lined the windows, ready to be yanked closed on a moment's notice, no doubt.
Detective Blount rose. "Miss Apel, good to see you." He crossed to me, extended his hand. He shook mine and moved to Roman. "Detective Blount."
"Roman Bane," he said. Roman Bane? Ohh. I so liked the sound of that. Kinda rolled off the tongue in a nice, lilting way. "I'm a friend of Dylan's."
"You are?" I said. Both men shot me confused looks. Oops. "I mean, he is." I shook my head. "We are. I just haven't seen Roman in a long time." I laughed, trying to hide my nerves. Detective Blount sat back down.
He gestured for us to sit as well. "What can I do for you today?"
"I was checking to see if you had any leads on the case. If there was anything I can help you with?"
The detective rested back and clasped his hands over his lean middle. Half-moons darkened the planes beneath his eyes. He looked tired, worn. "We're still researching the dress." Which meant they hadn't come up with anything on it, I'd bet. And they wouldn't. "Do you know of anyone who would want to harm Miss Eckhart?"
Didn't I? Few people had liked the loudmouthed debutante. But that didn't mean anyone wanted to kill her.
"No. No one that I know had any ill will against her. But that was my dress. I was the one who was supposed to wear it. Not her."
He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. "Just looking at every angle."
Roman cleared his throat. I gave him a worried glance. He was going to speak? In public? He barely even talked to me. "How long have you lived in Silver Springs, Detective?"
"A few months."
"It's a messy crime for a small town."
The detective eyed him. "It is. I came from Atlanta."
"So you were used to this sort of thing there. Murder, I mean."
Blount nodded. "More or less."
Roman's gaze drifted around the office. He took his time, seeming to absorb the sight of the pictures and knickknacks. When he spoke, it was slow, deliberate. "I bet you came here for a break. Wanted to get out of the city. Put in a few years at a small town and then retire."
Blount scrubbed the back of his short dark hair. "That's what I'd hoped."
Roman leaned forward. "Girl burns up in a dress. Not good for the lakeside economy."
"No. Not at all," Blount agreed.
"What if it turns out to be a freak accident? What if your best chemists never find anything? Puts you in a bad spot."
The detective thumped his fingers on the desk. "Mr. Bane, do you know something you want to tell me?"
Roman relaxed, sat back in his chair. "Only that I hope your guys find out what's going on. I'm sure the Eckhart family would like some closure."
We left a few minutes later. As soon as we stepped back into the heat, I said, "What was that all about? Trying to make yourself a suspect?"
Roman laughed. "Not at all. Just planting a little seed in the detective's head."
I slid into the SUV and slammed the door. "What kind of seed? The kind that gets yourself arrested?"
"Not a chance." He started the ignition and turned to me, his elbow sitting on the rest between us. "That detective thought when he left Atlanta, that this would be a cushy job. Perhaps a few hens stolen from a chicken house here, a lost dog there. I want to make sure he's thinking good and hard about the position he's taken."
I shrugged. "He seemed fine to me."
Roman tapped the steering wheel. "See the bags under his eyes?"
"I didn't notice," I lied.
He relaxed, stretched his shoulders back and expanded his chest. "This job isn't what he hoped for, and now it'll never be the retirement job he wanted. What Detective Blount doesn't realize is that he's stepped into a hotbed of action. Things in Silver Springs are about to get a whole lotta weird."
I fished my pink lip gloss from my purse and applied a liberal coat. "What are you talking about?"
"I've lived around witches my entire life. Now that you and your sisters have been outed, people are going to drop like flies."
"What?"
He shifted into drive. "That's the way it is. Witches kill witches. Don't let that Queen Em tell you any differently. They all want the same thing—power. And they'll do anything to get it."
I pressed my back into the buttery leather. "How do you know so much about witches?"
He threw me a sidelong glance as he nosed from the parking space. "Because I was raised by one."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"A witch raised you?"
"That's right."
I squinted at him as if that would help me read his mind. "Like a real witch?"
He chuckled. "Yes. Like a real witch."
"But you said you don't like us."
He brushed a blond strand from his face. I realized this was the first time I hadn't seen his shoulder-length hair pulled back. It lay beside his brutally sharp cheekbones in loose, sexy waves.
"It's complicated," he said.
I ran a sweaty palm over the smooth leather seat. "I have time."
"It's not a very interesting story."
"Try me."
He chuckled. His skintight T-shirt stretched over his biceps and chest. I zoned in on his muscles, and Roman turned to me. My cheeks flamed. Crap. How embarrassing. He totally caught me checking him out.
"My mother was Queen Witch. There were four of us—three girls and me. Sometimes boys are born with power, but I wasn't, which never bothered me. But life at court is something else."
"Wait. There's a court? Like Medieval Europe–style?"
He gave me an amused smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled in the cutest way. I wanted to reach out and pinch them. "Not exactly, but when you're queen, you live in a community with other witches and councilors."
"Is that an elected position?"
"Yes." He glared at me. "Don't even think about running for it."
"I'm not," I grumbled, looking out the window.
"Seriously. It's definitely not all it’s cracked up to be. There's a lot of backstabbing and fighting."
No surprise there. Weren't we dealing with a bunch of women? I'd never been in a roomful of ladies where there wasn't at least one double-faced person.
"Just because there's backstabbing doesn't explain why you don't like us. I mean, I can't help that I'm a witch. Neither can Sera."
"A witch murdered my mother."
Oh. Well, that explained it then.
He rubbed his palm over his chin. The sound of his hand scratching against morning stubble filled the cabin. "But they didn't stop there. They also murdered my sisters in an attempt to eliminate the entire line."
Roman's face darkened. My heart ached for him. I couldn't imagine the pain he'd endured as a little boy. I touched his arm, doing my best to ignore the burning spark that snaked up my skin at our contact. "I'm so sorry. Did they catch the killer?"
He shook his head. "There were some ideas, some leads, but nothing definitive ever came of the investigation. So when I grew up, I became a witch hunter." He turned the air on. A cool current streamed over my flesh. I shivered, more from the subject than the temperature.
I kneaded a patch of goose bumps away. "You hunted witches?"
"For the witch police, not civilians, and I only hunted those who needed a bit of hunting. After that, I became a detective."
Witch police? Why should anything surprise me at this point? "So you hunted bad people?"
"Yes, only the bad ones," he confirmed. "I hoped to be retired at this point, living the good life on a beach somewhere, and drinking piña coladas for the rest of my days, but that didn't happen."
"I don't think all that sugar would have been good for your physique."
He shook his head.
I scrunched up my nose. "Seriously. You wouldn't be able to keep those big muscles if you drank piña coladas all day long."
He leaned over. "Joking. It was a joke."
I grinned. "I know. Can you believe I was joking, too? Oh my gosh, a witch that gets humor. You must be dying."
He laughed—a good hearty sound that made my heart do jumping jacks. And splits. And spread eagles. "I am. I can't believe it."
We stopped at a red light. Roman looked over. I caught his glance and held on. A web of energy tangled around us. I felt myself being pulled into him, drawn to him. My lips started to pucker…and I cleared my throat.
What was I thinking? He liked Sera. Sera. Your sister, remember? The one with the broken heart.
"So you were a detective. Is that why you gave Blount such a hard time?"
Roman's gaze slid from me back to the street. "It is. We're of the same blood. I can't tell him any of that, of course. I'm a retired witch hunter, and that guy's hunting a witch. He's in over his head, with no idea what he's dealing with."
We pulled onto my street. My heart dived down toward my stomach, disappointed that our conversation was ending. "You must like some witches. I mean, you're here helping us."
"Nah," he said. "I made some bad investments and need the money." He glanced over. His lips curled as if he was teasing me, but of course, I couldn't tell if he was or not. I mean, I'd barely had two conversations with the man. "Trust me, I don't like witches."
Apparently, not kidding.
"As long as I know what side of the fence I'm on when it comes to you,"
I snapped, irritated that he had to be so mean. And irritated that he had to be so good-looking, with those sea-green eyes and dark lashes that looked like a French artist had sketched them with coal and then smudged the edges with his finger.
What? It was irritating.
"I wasn't trying to get under your skin," he said.
I scoffed. "What do you call it then? It doesn't exactly make me feel safe to know that because you don't like what I am—a minor detail that I have no choice in, by the way—you don't like me. How can I trust that you'll keep me or my sisters safe?"
He opened his mouth to reply. A door slammed. I looked toward the house. Reid rushed out, racing toward the SUV. I opened the door and hopped onto the curb, forgetting my conversation with Roman.
Let's be honest, mostly forgetting.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Her brown eyes shone with fright. "Where've you been? We've called you like a thousand times?"
Err. I pulled the phone from my back pocket and pressed the Call button. I'd missed exactly twenty calls from Sera and Reid. "Sorry. It was on mute. Is everything okay?"
She grabbed my arm and dragged me across the street. "No. Everything is not okay."
I locked my knees, forcing her to stop. "Then what is it?" I asked, raising my fingers to my mouth so I could chew off a line of nails. What could it be? Was Sera hurt? Was Nan okay? Had something happened to Grandma?
"It's Grandma."
"Oh no." I spit out a hangnail. "Is she okay?"
"No, she is very much not okay."
"Is she dead?"
"Worse," Reid said, pulling me toward the house. "She's awake."
***
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the cherry colored front door and stepped inside the cottage. Reid hovered behind me. Standing in the center of the living room, her silver hair puffed out and a delicate gold tiara on her head, stood my grandmother, Hazel.
She'd changed out of her formless pink pants and paisley blouse into a flowing white tunic, a shimmering blue scarf and orange pantaloons. That's right, pantaloons.
Her face, creased and cracked from age, split into a beaming smile. "Dylan! You're home."
