by Amy Boyles
And I had to let Carrie into my shop.
I don't know who stopped kissing whom first. To be honest, cotton candy and gumdrops filled my mind. I was incapable of focusing on small details. But in the end our lips did part.
"Wow. I guess you do like witches," I said.
Roman smiled. "Told you."
We stared at each other. I was the first to fold. "I'd better go help Carrie. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He kissed my cheek. "Be careful and hurry back."
He didn't have to ask twice.
***
I found Carrie outside Perfect Fit, patiently waiting. "Silly me," she said as I unlocked the door. "I can't believe I totally forgot all about my dress. That was stupid."
I shouldered the door open. "I know. Especially since you've been talking about it all week." I smiled to let her know I was only kidding. "Your hair and nails look great. You're going to look lovely, Carrie."
I crossed the threshold and waited for her to enter. Carrie peered at the top of the frame. She toed forward hesitantly.
I smirked. "Are you okay? Looks like you're waiting for lightning to strike."
She tittered. "No, I just thought I saw a spider in the door. You know how I hate them."
"I know. I hate them too." I crossed to the dress and lifted it from the rack. "Here you go."
Carrie shut the door behind her. She pulled something shiny from her purse. It looked like a long kitchen knife. Like, a really long kitchen knife. Like, one that only a chef would use. Why would she have that in her hand?
"Haven't shaved your legs in a while, Carrie?" I joked. "Had to bring out the big guns, huh?"
Carrie floated across the room as if on wheels. At the same time, everything around me slowed as if I was trapped underwater. My mind tried to process what was happening. I attempted to move, but the weight of the water, or whatever, held me fast. In the time it took to blink, Carrie had a hand around my collar and the knife pointed at my heart. The world righted itself, and whatever had previously gripped me released its hold.
"Move, Dylan. Do it. Give me a reason to start shredding your skin."
A shrill laugh escaped my lips. "That's a very funny joke, Carrie. But ha-ha. Don't you want the dress?"
Her eyes danced with pleasure. "Really, Dylan? Are you kidding? I mean, your clothes are cool and all, but that's not what I'm here for."
My hopes faded. "I was afraid you'd say that."
She pulled a line of rope from her purse and said, "Sit down and tie yourself up. Don't do a shoddy job. I'll be checking."
My mind raced to put all the pieces together.
"Why are you frowning? Upset that you fingered the wrong person?" She laughed. A shudder moved through my body at the hideous sound. "Oh Dylan, you and your sister are such incompetent witches. Once I kill you, I'll have everything I need. I never meant to kill Reagan; it was always you I wanted."
She pulled up one of my lounging chairs and plopped down on it. She stared at her nails, I assumed to make sure she hadn't chipped one of them. "First off, it's too late for you now, but it was seriously unwise to forget to place the spell of protection on your shop."
I sighed. "So that's why you looked at the door. It wasn't spiders. You wanted to make sure you'd be able to enter since you plan on killing me." I worked slowly, trying to figure out a way to jump her and get the knife from her hands. I wrapped the rope around my ankles at a slug's pace, racking my brain.
"That would be correct. God, I never thought you'd figure out the whole thing about the threads."
Wait a minute. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, the fact that the thread found on Milly looked exactly like one of Queen Esmerelda's."
I worked my hands even slower. "How'd you manage to get one of Em's threads? They disappear after twenty-four hours, and she never did magic when you were nearby."
Carrie smirked. "I've been logging threads for years. Saw Em perform a bit of magic on a table of folks at Java House about three years ago, and snagged it then. Jenny Butts and some women were making a fuss about a baby, and Em performed some magic to quiet them down."
"But that doesn't explain how you had the thread."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't have it. I wrote down everything about it—the shape, the color, etcetera. It's always good to know what another witch's threads look like. That way you can replicate it and frame the witch for crimes they didn't commit. That's what I did the day I knocked Milly out. Replicated the thread and stuck it in her ear. It's just coincidence no one found my own thread on her."
She crossed one leg over the other and bounced it up and down. "You fell for it, hook, line and sinker. I probably could've convinced you it was that bodyguard of yours, and you would have believed it. I mean, you're a total waste of a witch."
What a meanie. "I gave you a job for three years—you could show a little respect."
"Yes, and in those three years I waited for you to discover what you were, so I could kill you then and take your powers. But that never happened. Finally you announce to the world that you're a witch, and I had no choice but to act fast, before some other witch got the same idea and knocked you off first."
I tied a loose knot around my ankles. "I get all that, but what about my grandma? Why would you freeze her?"
She looked at me as if I was insane. "Freeze your grandmother? I didn't do that. Why would I do that? She's bat crazy." She sighed. "None of that matters now, though. Because once I've skinned you, I'll have everything I need."
Something occurred to me. "You used your nails as an excuse not to touch the dress that killed Reagan."
She nodded. "Yep. Of course my nails had cured. They're gel. The spell I cast wouldn't let me touch the gown again."
Taking a huge risk, I said, "What a crackpot spell. Even once you have my powers, I don't think that's going to cure your problems. You're simply a bad witch. A terrible witch. You couldn't even spell that dress correctly. Good luck with having more abilities. I don't think it's going to help."
Carrie brandished the knife toward my middle. "Shut up. Just shut up. You don't know anything. You didn't even remember to protect this store. I'm actually doing you a favor by killing you now, because as word spreads that you're a total failure of a witch, others will come. Others will try to kill you, and one of them will succeed."
A loud thud came from outside the shop. Carrie turned. "What was that?"
I leaped forward. Well, I didn't exactly leap. I threw myself at her, my legs still entangled in the chair. I reached out, trying to smack the knife from her hand. I managed the next best thing—I struck her arm, and the knife clattered to the floor.
"You little witch," she said as our bodies knotted together.
I hit. I clawed. I scratched. I did everything possible to keep her away from the knife. But with my legs caught in the chair's tines, my abilities were limited.
Carrie kicked me off and clambered for the knife. She snatched it from the floor and rose. My old assistant, my friend and someone I generally liked, towered over me, her face a grimace of twisted shadows.
"Now we'll see who has all the power, Dylan Apel." She raised the knife over her head.
The door of the shop slammed open. Roman stood in the entrance, gun in hand. Carrie screamed. She plunged the knife toward me. I shielded my eyes. I really wasn't interested in witnessing my own death, you know? Just didn't seem like the right thing to do.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
I waited a second, expecting cold steel to enter my body, but nothing happened. One more second passed and I still wasn't injured.
I opened one eye a slit.
On the floor lay Carrie, quite dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Twenty minutes later I found myself sitting on the steps to the shop, a wool blanket wrapped around my shoulders, a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee in my hand and Roman by my side, his arm hugging my shoulder.
Detective Blount scratched his prickly chin. "We found
the knife that Miss Dogwood was going to use to kill you. We'll brush it for prints and hopefully get this wrapped up soon."
Roman released his grip on me. "Dylan, may I see your purse?"
I resisted the urge to ask him why he was interested in my lipstick, but handed it over to him, curious as to what he wanted. He opened the bag and pulled out a small black tape recorder. "I think you'll find this has all the evidence you're looking for." Roman rewound it and pressed Play.
The recorder crackled. It buzzed for a second, and then Carrie's voice came through on the speaker. "Once I kill you, I'll have everything I need. I never meant to kill Reagan; it was always you I wanted."
Blount frowned. "You recorded this without her knowing, I assume. It's inadmissible in court."
Roman crossed his arms. "I don't think this will get to court. That's a confession right there. And you have both our testimonies that Carrie was about to kill Dylan when I stopped her."
Roman handed the recorder over to the detective. Blount palmed it for a moment, and then his lips split into a smile. "Looks pretty open and shut. Well, we've found our killer. You two can come down for questioning tomorrow, and we'll wrap this whole thing up."
We said our good nights. Once the detective was gone, I turned to Roman. "How did that get there?" I asked, meaning the recorder.
He blushed. The assassin actually turned pink with shame. My gut flip-flopped. I wasn't going to like this answer. "I slipped it in when we were at the gazebo."
I raised my eyebrows. "When you kissed me?"
He nodded.
I smacked my lips together. "Let me get this straight. You knew Em wasn't the killer, and you figured whoever it was, they would make their move tonight."
He sighed. "Yes. So I slipped it in your purse, knowing you'd be the target."
"Then you followed me."
"Well, I knew where you were going. I gave you a little head start."
I shrugged off the blanket and stood. "And you waited until I was almost killed to save me?"
A look of panic shone in his eyes. He rose and reached for my hand. I snatched it back. "Dylan, it's not like that. I had to get enough information to prove that the police had found their killer, so that they'd close this case."
"But you—"
"And—" His voice steamrollered mine. "And I needed to make sure the threat against you was clear, so that when I disposed of the killer, there wouldn't be any questions."
Everything had been a lie. He'd kissed me while slipping the recorder in my purse. He'd done it to distract me. Tears blurred my eyes. "But you did it when you kissed me. You didn't even tell me what you were doing."
He stepped forward and rubbed my arms. "Would you have believed me? Kept it in your purse, or would you have ditched it?"
Ditched it for sure. "That's not the point."
He smiled. "It is the point. And trust me on this one, too. Once that cop hears the rest of that tape, I don't think he's going to stay around for much longer."
"Why?" I asked.
"I think he's going to realize Atlanta and its normal crime is a lot easier to deal with than Silver Springs and its cultish criminals. And believe you me, things in town are going to get worse before they get better."
Now he was really annoying me. "Because I'm a witch who doesn't know how to protect myself?"
He gave me a sympathetic smile. "You're learning. But you've got a long stretch to go."
I backed away. "Thank you, but no thank you. If you're style of teaching is leading me on for your own purposes, I'm not interested." I pivoted on my heel and stalked off into the night.
"Dylan, wait—"
But I didn't wait. There was nothing the assassin could say that I wanted to hear. He'd used me to catch a killer. Betrayed my feelings. Someone more levelheaded would probably point out that he'd caught a killer to save my life, but I wasn't feeling particularly sound of mind right now. At the moment fury pulsed through my body. One thing was for certain.
I never wanted to see Roman Bane ever again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After a few weeks everything went back to normal—sort of. Grandma still talked about unicorns, and Milly remained sour as ever, though the gossipmongers had a field day with the fact that Carrie had murdered Reagan. To think, Silver Springs had harbored a murderer right in their very own town! No one, of course, was more surprised than me.
Milly contacted the witch police and explained that the real killer had been discovered. She also told them about Carrie planting the evidence to make Em appear guilty. I feared Em would try to seek revenge, but Sera felt that the Queen Witch possessed more class than that.
She was probably right.
The bell to the shop tinkled. While still staring at the stack of paperwork on my desk, I pasted on my brightest smile and said, "Welcome to Perfect Fit. How can I help you?"
"You can help me by trying not to pin murders on me." Em stood, hands fisted on her hips, a shroud of crimson curls cascading over her shoulders.
Uh-oh. "Hi, Em. Sorry about all that. But Carrie did admit to trying to make it look like you did it."
She lowered her lids and stared down her nose at me. "Was that before the bodyguard I hired to protect y'all killed her?"
I swallowed. My voice came out as a thin, mousy thing. "Yes. That would be correct." So maybe she was mad. Maybe I deserved it. And then again, maybe I didn't. I was conned. Scammed. "I'm sorry, Em. Really." I paused, trying to find something to say that would ease the tension. "Did the police put you somewhere nice? I mean, you're their queen. It's not like they're going to throw you in with all the other riffraff."
She laughed. "They did throw me in with all the riffraff, as they were all out of nice cells for witch queens."
"Oh." Boy, was I in big trouble or what? "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
She smiled. Her eyes twinkled in a way that made me shudder. It appeared I now stood on the bad side of the Queen Witch, and I wished I didn't. She sniffed. "Let me think on it. There may be somethin' you can do to earn my forgiveness."
"Yes, let me know."
She surveyed the room in a silence that lasted long enough to be creepy, and said, "There is somethin' you can do."
I perked up. "What is it?"
She puckered her lips into a kiss. "That's for me to know, and you to find out."
She vanished.
Crap. That didn't sound like something I was going to like at all. As I sat, trying to rack my brain for what awful thing I would have to endure, Sera and Reid spilled into the store.
I rose. "Is everything okay?"
"Dylan, sit down," Sera said.
"Why? What is it?" I asked, now in full-fledged freak-out mode. Had something happened to Grandma? Had she gone to live with the unicorns? Hmm. That wasn't such a bad idea.
"It's nothing serious," Reid said. "Don't get her all panicky."
Sera smoothed her glassy hair. "Sorry." She looked out the window as Tim walked by. He saw her, gave a brief wave and then kept walking.
"It's a good thing Em erased his memory from that night," Sera said. "She did me a favor. Made him forget he ever wanted to try to get back together." She leaned against the wall and crossed one foot over the other. "Now I can officially move on."
"Speaking of Em," I said, "she paid me a visit."
Reid plopped into a chair. "What'd she want?"
I braided the tip of my ponytail in a vain attempt to distract myself. "I suppose to let me know I'd officially teed her off."
"Too bad I can't help you there," Reid said. "I mean, I don't have any powers or anything." She brought the back of her hand to her forehead. "It's the curse of being normal."
"Don't worry," I said. "She'll let us know how to make it up to her. After all, she spent a night in witch jail."
"How bad could it have been?" Sera asked.
I cocked my head at her. "Bad. But I don't want to think about that. What were you going to tell me?"
Reid and Sera exchanged looks.
"What is it?" I demanded.
"You want to tell her, or should I?" Reid said.
"I'll do it," Sera said.
I flexed my fingers like claws. "What is it? The suspense is killing me."
Sera shouldered herself from the wall. "You remember Detective Blount."
"Of course."
"Well," Sera said, "he's leaving."
I stopped braiding my hair. "Oh? Where's he going?"
Reid picked up a magazine and started paging through it. "Says he's going back to Atlanta. He's tired of country life."
"Wow. Roman was right. He kept saying the guy would quit. I never believed him though." Reid and Sera exchanged looks again. "Okay. What is it? What's going on?"
"Thing is," Sera said, "it looks like we have a new detective."
"Already? That was fast."
Reid looked up from a glossy picture of a wedding dress. "It gets better. Just wait."
Confused, I said, "Wait? For what?"
The door banged open. Jenny Butts entered, her hand-pumping ways in full force. Lord, help me now.
"Y'all. Y'all. Y'all. Can you believe it? Of course, I'm sure y'all already know."
I cocked my head. "Know what?"
She stroked her blonde Marilyn curls. "Don't be silly. I'm sure you were the absolute first to know, Dylan. Stop being so coy."
I lifted my hands in surrender. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"
"Well, silly, if you want to pretend you don't know, that's fine, but I'll go ahead and tell you what you already know—that tall, handsome, male friend of yours is the new chief detective of Silver Springs."
I sank back into the chair. I gave Sera a help-me look. "She's not talking about who I think she's talking about, is she?"
Sera nodded.
"Reid. This isn't true, is it?"
