by Amy Boyles
"We never had any to begin with," I said.
"Good point."
A thought hit me. I turned to Milly. "How did you get here so quickly?"
She smacked her lips. "A birdie told me."
"What birdie?" I asked.
"Me." The voice came from the front door. I leaped to my feet, ready to do some witch combat that involved moving a glass from the table to my hand so I could throw it at whoever had broken into my house. But after my eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from the front windows, I realized it was only the assassin.
"You can walk in at any time," I said.
"Dylan," Sera hissed.
"What?"
"Be nice."
I shrugged. Roman stood in the doorway, his expression blank. "When witches wake up from a freeze, they're often a little cranky."
I stared at Grandma. "This is common?"
She fluffed her head of curls. "It can be."
"And no one told us? Where's Nan? Did she know?"
Grandma tightened the scarf around her throat. "I believe she's stepped out."
I turned to Roman, annoyed that I had to be agreeable. "It was nice of you to go get Milly. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
"Why's that?"
He lowered his sunglasses. His gaze seared me. "Because Queen Witch is marching up the walkway, and she's pissed."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"The flames sparking from her fingertips tipped me off."
Uh-oh. We were in deep doo-doo.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Em stormed in. With eyes blazing and fists clenched at her sides, she entered like a WWF wrestler hell-bent on destruction. I shrank back. I couldn't help it.
"What's going on in here?" she demanded.
Milly placed the cane between her legs and rested her hands on it. "Did our little ripple get your attention?"
Em shot her a dark look. She ruffled her curly hair. Her bangles tinkled and clinked. Em smiled. "That wasn't no ripple. That was a tidal wave." She glanced around the room until her gaze rested on Grandma. Her eyes widened. "You're awake."
"It looks that way," Grandma said. "Though part of me thinks this is a bad dream—one where my granddaughters have been sucked into the dangerous world of witches. Do I have you to thank for that?"
Em sniffed. "You have them to thank. They announced themselves to the world. I'm only tryin' to help keep your girls safe."
Milly rocked her cane back and forth. "Not the best teaching methods I've ever seen."
Em whirled on her. "Excuse me? They've been instructed by the Queen herself. How many witches can say that?"
"Apparently not many," Reid said.
I elbowed her. She rolled her eyes as if to say, Well, it's true.
"Anyway, I don't think the girls will need your instruction anymore," Milly said.
Em lifted her chin. She took a moment to stare at each of us in turn. I fought the urge to squirm under her scrutinizing glare. "Fine. If you don't need me, then good luck." She snapped her fingers, and in less than a blink, Em had vanished.
"Good luck not burning that bridge," Sera said.
"Yeah," I murmured. "I don't think you made her happy."
Milly plugged her ear with a finger and scratched away. "Bah. Who cares? It's only the queen. She's the minority of witches, in case you hadn't guessed."
"What about the council?" I asked, really having no idea about the importance of the council. But I figured since they existed, they might have some weight.
"The council is a bunch of nincompoops," Grandma said. "They don't know their eyeholes from their eyeholes."
"Okaaay," Reid said. "That made sense. Didn't you mean to compare eyeholes to a different hole?"
Grandma shook her head. "No. Of course not."
"Of course not," I said. "Everything here makes absolute sense, didn't you know?"
Sera grimaced. "Right. So how are we going to learn about spelling, or whatever?"
Milly cleared her throat. It was a soothing sound, one that involved lots of hacking and snarling. "We're going to teach you."
"Great idea," I said, unconvinced. Though they were better than Em, I still figured someone would end up getting hurt. I looked from our coven (was that the right word for it?) to Roman. "What about you? Are you outta here now that Em is gone?"
He slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. "I've been paid through the solstice, so I'll stay."
How comforting to know that payment was his reason for staying—not that he wanted to be, you know, ethical or anything.
I clapped my hands together. "Great. So we have a bodyguard."
"Yeah. Great," Reid said with a twinkle in her eye.
My stomach rumbled. "As great as this has been, I think I'm ready for some dinner. Can we call it a day?"
Milly rose, her knees popping. "I've got things to do. Girls, come by anytime and I'll teach you some more magic."
"I've got a lot to do before I open my store back up in a couple of days. We'll try to stop by."
Milly shrugged. "Whatever. I don't care. I'm not the one someone's trying to kill."
"What a cheery disposition you have," I said. "How is it we never met before now?"
Milly eyeballed me. "Because I didn't want to."
And with a twitch of the nose, Milly vanished.
"Mr. Bodyguard," Grandma said.
"You can call me Roman."
"Roman," my grandmother said in her most aristocratic voice. "Would you like to have supper with us?"
"He doesn't like witches," I said with a sharp tone.
"Perhaps you should consider a new line of work," Grandma said.
I swear a tinge of pink smeared his cheeks. Who knew assassins could blush? He ignored me and said, "I would be honored to stay."
"Nan!" Grandma called out.
Nan popped her head out of the kitchen door. "Yes?"
I stretched my arms over my head. Magic apparently put a lot of cricks in my back. "I thought Grandma said you were out."
"Oh. Well. I wasn't too far away," she said.
Right. Just didn't want to be near us witches, I'm sure.
Grandma waved a hand at her. "There'll be one more at dinner."
"Great. About to heat up the jar of pasta sauce now."
And there you have it. Cooking at its finest.
***
Roman sat beside me at dinner. I don't know why. Perhaps he wanted a better look at Sera across the table. His entire presence distracted me—from the husky scent wafting off him to the constant brush of his sculpted thigh against my leg. Honestly, how was a girl supposed to keep her focus on staying alive with all this testosterone around?
"How is everything?" Nan asked expectantly. She gave Roman a wide grin. Her blue eyes shone as she nodded her head in his direction. "Does it taste okay?"
Yeah, it tasted like a Michelin-starred French chef opened a can of Boyardee and microwaved it.
Roman lifted his fork and did the best bite and smile I'd ever seen. "It's great. Thanks for having me."
Whoa. Not the answer I expected from a hardened man such as himself.
"Are you dating anyone?" Grandma asked.
"Grandma," Sera said.
Grandma split her bread roll and buttered one side. "What?"
Sera rested her elbows on the table. "You haven't even asked if we're dating anyone. You've been asleep for three years. Don't you think you need to do some catching up?"
Grandma laughed. "None of you are dating anyone. I may have been frozen, but I could still hear." She wagged her finger at me. "Dylan, of course, hasn't dated since that Colten boy popped her cherry and dumped her. Of course, he didn't tell her he dumped her—he simply didn't show up the night of prom."
I nearly threw my fork at her. "Grandma!"
She ignored me. "And Tim, that worthless toad, broke up with you, my darling Seraphina, six months ago. Good riddance. And Reid—"
"I think we've heard enough," I said
, trying to cut her off.
"And Reid talks about bedding boys but wouldn't know what to do if one ended up in her lap."
"True that," Reid said.
Roman chuckled.
"What are you laughing at?" I said.
He swiped the napkin over his mouth. "I can't help it. This is the best family dinner I've been at in a long time." His eyes crinkled in amusement, making his lashes look extra smudgy.
"I haven't even gotten to you," Grandma said.
"You don't know him," Sera said.
Grandma wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. "I don't have to know him to tell his story."
"Grandma," I warned.
Roman rested back in his chair. "No, by all means. I'm up for grabs. I'm available for embarrassment."
Nan sucked a noodle through her puckered lips. "Be careful what you wish for."
Grandma closed her eyes and placed both palms on the table. She hummed. I quirked an eyebrow at Sera, who shrugged. She had no idea what the woman was doing either.
After several minutes of humming, she spoke. "Roman's had his heart broken before." She opened one eye and squinted at him. "She lost her life because of your work."
Alarm bells blared in my head. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea, in fact. Grandma had gone from being up close and personal with Roman to giving him a virtual prostate exam in less than five seconds. Though I had to admit, I was intrigued. His girlfriend lost her life because of his work? Tell me more. Must have been the Jenny Butts in me.
He scratched his brow with the back of his thumb. "More or less."
Grandma's other eye creaked open. "You blame yourself."
I bit my lower lip and sneaked a glance at Roman. The blood had drained from his lips. His jaw twitched, and a cold stoniness had replaced the warmth that played in his eyes only moments earlier. He gripped the edge of the table and stared at the linen cloth that covered it.
Grandma needed to stop. I leaned over, clasped her hand. Her head jerked in my direction. She blinked several times. "Okay, Grandma, I think we've punished Roman enough. He's here to help us out, remember?"
She turned back to him, totally ignoring me, because apparently dredging up someone's past was more important than listening to common sense. "It wasn't your fault, son. No matter what you did, she would have died. You couldn't have stopped it, couldn't have prevented it."
Roman's face darkened.
I jumped up. "Who wants dessert? I think we have ice cream. Right, Nan?"
"And brownies. I made some this morning," Sera said. She picked up her plate and Reid's.
"Hey! I'm not finished."
"Yes, you are."
Roman dropped his napkin on the table. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm full. No dessert for me." He shoved back his chair and rose. "I'd better get back to my post. I've got some guarding to do."
"You can stay inside and watch, if you'd like," Grandma said.
But Roman was already at the front door. He turned back, gave a curt nod and said, "No thanks." He opened the door and, in less than a blink, was gone.
After the door shut behind him, Sera said, "Something tells me he won't be coming to any more of our dinners."
"Something tells me you're right," I said. "Grandma, why'd you do that?"
She looked at me blankly. "Do what?"
"Say all that to Roman?"
"Yeah," Reid said, "and how'd you know all that stuff?"
She folded her napkin on the table. "Everyone knows that about him. It's all in his dossier."
I stopped cleaning up. "Dossier? What are you talking about?"
A worn manila file folder appeared in her hand. The edges were ragged, the spine of it soft, as if it had been opened hundreds of times. "This." She thumbed it open and started sifting through the contents. "It's everything the witch police have on your bodyguard. It's his official file."
We stared at her. She stared at us, and then a lightbulb or a forest fire went off in her brain. "You think I made all that up? Heck's bells no. I read his file years ago and just recalled the information."
What I wouldn't do to get my fingers on that folder. I confess. I wanted to snoop. I thrust out my hand. "Let me see that."
"No. That's official witch police business."
"Witch police?" Sera asked.
"There's a witch police." I sighed. "As if all this witch business couldn't get any crazier."
"Interesting," Reid replied.
"Anyway," I said to Grandma. "Let me see the folder."
She vanished it. My hopes to find out more about the assassin and that story disappeared with it. "You're not allowed."
"You're not the witch police," I said. "You're not allowed either."
Grandma splayed her hand against her chest. "I'm old. That entitles me to lots of things."
Whatever.
***
I tried to put the fiasco of dinner behind me by helping Nan wash the dishes. Barely ten minutes later and that job complete, I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and swung it over my shoulder. Grandma sat in the recliner reading a gardening magazine.
"So, Grandma," I said. She pulled her nose from the glossy page and blinked in my direction. "Would you like to explain why you never told us about our power?"
She shrugged. "I thought we'd already gone over this."
"All we've gotten are cursory answers. I want the truth. The nitty-gritty truth."
Reid entered the room and sat on the footstool at Grandma's feet. "You knew we were witches."
Grandma gave her a sympathetic smile. "Not you, dear."
"Okay. Well, you knew Sera and Dylan have power."
Sera leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a curtain of hair slashing over her face. "That's a question I'd like the answer to as well."
Grandma sighed like it was a great favor she was doing us. She folded the magazine over on a page advertising some newfangled spade and placed it on her lap. "Being a witch, as you have no doubt already discovered, is very difficult. Not only do others covet what you have, but the magical world is a dangerous one. It got your parents killed."
"What?" I said. "They died in a car accident."
She lifted her index finger. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence. "An accident I believe was intentional. Your parents worked undercover for the witch police. Your mother said they'd unearthed something big, but wouldn't say what it was. Barely two days later, they were both dead."
Reid rubbed her chin. "Do you have any idea what it was?"
Grandma shook her head. "No. The witch police will have the old case files, but that's not a thing to concern yourselves with now. At this moment you need to stay alive."
Sera drummed her fingers on her arm. "That doesn't explain why you didn't tell us about Milly."
"Bah," Grandma said. "Milly was too busy being Queen Witch to have granddaughters. Besides, your father thought one witch for a grandmother was plenty." Grandma leaned forward and whispered, "It isn't polite to speak ill of the dead, but what she told you was right—they didn't get along."
"Surprise, surprise," I said.
Grandma glared at me. "She's rough-and-tumble, to be sure. But that woman is good and will help you however she can."
Lucidity had descended on Grandma. This was the most sense she'd made since I'd been home. Perhaps her brain was thawing out.
She placed a wrinkled hand to her breast. "I owe that woman my life. Milly once saved me from a horde of flying monkeys."
Or maybe not.
"Girls, it pains me that your lives are in danger. But I can help."
My ears perked up at that. "How?"
Her gaze shifted from side to side. "Circle around. Witch's secrets aren't meant to be heard by nonwitches."
"You mean Nan?" Sera asked. "She's your bodyguard. The council sent her after you went into your coma."
She wiggled a jeweled hand at us. Grandma did like her rhinestones. Three ropes of pearls dangled from her neck while a ring sparkled on each finger, including her thum
bs. "Yes yes yes. I know the council sent her, but still. These are secrets."
We huddled up. I wondered who was going to run the ball down the field. I almost voiced it aloud but didn't have to.
Reid smiled. "Seventy-nine, thirteen, twelve. Hut-hut."
"Reid, shut it," Sera said.
She put on her best teenage pouty frown. "Just trying to lighten the mood."
Grandma leaned back and closed her eyes as if she were about to meditate. A low buzz sounded from her nose.
"Is she asleep?" Sera asked.
"I don't know. Poke her," I suggested.
"You poke her."
"No, you do it."
Grandma's eyes popped open. "I am not asleep. I am thinking. I have to remember how to work it, but there is a way for you to discover who's trying to kill you."
I twisted the ends of my hair. My dark, boring hair. Nothing as interesting as the blond hair the assassin had been born with. I bet in the summertime the sun bleached it even blonder, giving him natural highlights. Not that a stud like him would care whether or not he had highlights, but it was kinda cool.
"How?" Sera said. "How can you help us find the killer?"
My mind snapped from thoughts of Roman running shirtless down a sandy shore back to our cramped bungalow. "How can we find out?" I said. "We need to know. The police need to make an arrest."
Grandma raised a sharp eyebrow. "Don't ever leave witch business to civilian police. They can't help."
"Let's stay on track here. How do we do it? How do we find out?"
My grandmother straightened her back and proclaimed, "Concentrate on who wants to kill you and they'll appear."
We waited. She didn't say anything else.
"Is that all?" I asked.
She clasped her hands together, the metal rings jangling. "That's it. Focus and they will come."
Reid rolled her eyes. "Like in that stupid baseball movie?"
Sera slapped her arm. "Hey. I like that movie. And I like this idea. If we think it, they will come."
Okay, let's calm down. "How will they come, Grandma? Like in a dream?"
"Of course not. They'll show up wherever you are." She tapped her nose. "Focus and they'll appear. Works every time."
