by Amy Boyles
Grandma unstrapped the military helmet and placed it on the coffee table with a thud. "My dear, we've been summoned. If you don't willingly go, they'll take you anyway."
A chill zipped down my spine. "What do you mean, they'll take me anyway?"
Sera rose from the couch, the cookbook gripped between white-knuckled hands. "Yeah? What's that mean?"
Grandma took her coat from its peg by the front door. "They'll come in the middle of the night or the day or the half night and whisk you off to the castle whether you like it or not. And let me tell you, that's one ride you won't enjoy. One time your grandma Milly was summoned but she refused to go. She tied herself to her house thinking they wouldn't be able to take her, but they did, house and all—dropped it right in the middle of the castle. Boy, you should have seen the look on her face—oh, and the monkey king's. He'd never seen anything so crazy in all his life. He hooted about it for days."
Reid frowned. "Hooted? Isn't he a monk—"
"Just leave it," I interrupted. "Please don't start."
Grandma clapped her hands together as if we were embarking on a grand adventure to sail the seven seas. "Everybody ready?"
"I'm not going," Reid said. "I have a hot date."
Grandma smiled. "I'm afraid you are. The letter requested all of us."
"But I'm not a witch. Isn't there a rule against nonmagics seeing the castle?"
Grandma tightened the scarf around her neck. "Seems like there should be, but in this case you've been summoned, so I suggest you come with us."
"But my date," she whined.
"You'll be back in plenty of time for that." Grandma extended her arms. "Now, everyone take hands. I'm only going to do this once, and I want to get it right the first time. I don't want anyone's feet or head to stay here while the rest of your body ends up at Castle Witch."
"That's comforting," I said. "You haven't had any nips of schnapps, have you?"
Grandma threw me a searing look. "I do not imbibe, Dylan. You should know that."
"It was a joke, Grandma."
"You can tell the monkey king when you see him."
"What?" I said, confused.
"About the schnapps. The winged monkeys make it. It's their official drink. Illegal for anyone else to have."
"Of course it is," Sera said. She gave my arm a comforting pat. "Listen, let's just get this over with."
"Agreed," I said. "We shouldn't be there that long, right? All we have to do is vote and then we can come home?"
"Not long at all," Grandma said. "Now, come." We circled and clasped hands. Grandma looked at each of us in turn. "Are you ready?"
"As we'll ever be," I said cheerfully, though my stomach pretzeled from fear. I didn't want to see witches, I didn't want to vote for witches and part of me didn't even want to be a witch. Yeah, I could do some cool stuff, but I only did it when my grandma prompted me. I didn't walk around blowing sunshine from my fingertips or anything.
Grandma closed her eyes and hummed. Pink threads sprouted from the floor, tangling in our legs and creeping up our bodies. Vines of magic entwined, creating a thick wall that surrounded us. The pink became vibrant, closing in until the room beyond disappeared.
Grandma opened her eyes. "Next stop Castle Witch."
We vanished.
***
When the pink dissolved, I stood in the middle of what looked like a cathedral. Gray stone, brilliant purple tapestries, sky-scraping arches and stained glass windows surrounded us. I sucked in my breath.
"Wow," I whispered. "This is Castle Witch? This is where the queen lives?"
"This is it," Grandma said.
"Amazeballs," Reid said. "How many people live here?"
Grandma shrugged. "A lot. It takes an entire court to run the goings-on of witches."
Sera rubbed her hands down her tan arms. "Where are we, exactly?"
Grandma wiggled her hands. "We're sort of in-between. Near Fairyland but not quite there."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"It means we're in the veil," Nan said.
"The veil?" Sera said. "What's that?"
"The in-between. The place behind the curtain of the reality."
There was a curtain?
"About time y'all showed up."
I groaned. I knew that voice better than my own. Sure enough, striding toward us came Queen Witch herself, Esmerelda Pommelton.
"Em," I said. "Great to see you."
Em stopped, crossed her arms and tapped her high-heeled toe. "What took y'all so long? We've been waitin' for forever for y'all to show up."
"We just now got the message," I said. "As soon as it appeared, fire and all, we came. Trust me. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be."
She frowned. "I sent the message two days ago."
All eyes focused on Grandma. She shooed at us with her hand. "Well, it might have gotten lost."
"In a pumpkin head?" I said.
She shrugged. "You don't like witches anyway. You've said a thousand times they're too smelly."
"I've never said that."
Em took me by the arm. As much as I wanted to dissect myself from her grasp, I allowed the woman who'd made a mess of my life more than once to lead me forward. "Come on. Y'all have to meet the other candidate."
"Candidate?" Sera said.
Em scoffed. "Of course. It's election year. What'd you think? I'd be the only one running?"
"Oh," I mumbled. "You're running again? You mean there's a chance you might be queen longer?"
Em glared at me. "Just you wait, sugar. You see what the other candidate is like and you'll be beggin' me to remain your queen."
"First of all, it doesn't matter to me if you're queen or not. You have no effect on my life."
Em flashed me a serpentine smile. She shook out her head of cinnamon and crimson curls and said, "Just you wait. See how much the others want to change that."
"I hope this is over quick," Reid said. "I have a hot date, and I don't want to keep him waiting."
"It'll take as long as it takes," Em said.
"Well, do I at least get to vote? I mean, you called me here and everything."
Em shook her head. "No powers. No vote. That there's the rule."
Reid toed the floor with her Converse. "I might be getting powers. You don't know."
"Chicklet, you got about as much power as a turd on a piece of toast."
Reid's face contorted. "That's disgusting."
"Truth is truth," Em said.
She guided us into a room that was smaller than the main hall but no less grand. Floor-to-ceiling leaded windows lined one wall, allowing glittering sunlight to spill into the room. People milled about. A lot of people, actually, both men and women. The women wore floor-length gowns with matching pointy hats, while the men wore dark capes. It was strange to be in the witching world with men about. All the witches I'd been around were women.
"Are those men witches?" Sera asked. Apparently being dumbfounded ran in my family.
"No," Em said. "Only women are witches. A few of them are warlocks, but most of them are little more than nonmagics. They come from witch families and have only a touch of power."
Well, that explained it. That was the reason those men liked to hang around homicidal maniacs—oh, I mean witches.
"What's that?" I asked, eyeing a sculpture in the center of the room. Three bronze witches, pointy hats and all, faced each other. The first held a rolling ball of flame that changed colors every few seconds. The second held a flask. Smoke steamed from the opening. The vapor changed from purple to gold to orange, ranging the spectrum of the rainbow. The last witch held—a wand?
Now I understood the fire and even the potion flask, but I had yet to see a witch wielding a wand.
Em followed my gaze. "Those," she said, "are the three sister witches that all of us are descended from."
I couldn't hide the look of horror that flashed across my face. "You mean I'm related to you?"
Em
rolled her eyes. "Luckily, chickadee, you and I are far removed. But we ain't here to talk about that. Y'all are here to vote for queen."
"You mean you," Sera said.
Em threw her a shy smile. "Y'all can vote for whoever you want, but I asked you here as my representatives."
"Funny way of asking," Reid grumbled. "Seemed more like a summons."
"So why's that one witch holding a wand?" I said, pointing to the sculpture.
"Because some witches actually use them, Dylan. If you bothered to find anythin' out about us, you'd know that."
I tugged on the tip of my ponytail. "I'm good. I know all I need to about your kind."
"Your kind too, dear," Grandma added. "And my kind, and Sera's kind and even Reid's kind—the ones without talent."
"Thanks," Reid said.
"You're welcome," Grandma replied, patting her on the cheek.
"Since the last of Em's representatives decided to show up, looks like we can start." The high-pitched voice had come from the front of the room. I peered over a small swarm of heads and saw a woman with puffed cheeks, a round chin and a marshmallow body wearing a lime-green gown.
"Yes, you can start, Gertrude," Em said.
The woman flashed a set of small, square teeth. "Welcome, everyone. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Gertrude Boxbigger. I think most of us know where the current Queen Witch stands on issues of intermingling and such, but I wanted to tell those of you who might be new”—she glanced at my family—"and even those of you who may have forgotten, where I stand."
"Looks like in the center of a fruit display," Sera whispered in my ear.
I snorted.
Gertrude clapped her hands together. "Since I was a little girl, I've listened to the grumblings of my kind, and the one complaint I've heard over and over again deals with nonmagics. Plenty of you whisper that the rules are too stringent about performing magic in front of them. It's easy to forget they're around. We all know the punishment for abuse of power in front of nonmagics—being boiled alive. It's a fear that's gripped me from time to time. I'm sure several, if not all of you have felt it in your hearts before, too.
"I want to change that. I want to change all of it. For years we've needed our own space, our own place to live. Castle Witch is grand, but it can't house all of us, and why should it? It's the queen's court. That's why my plan is so important. There's land available—ready for all of us to share. Land that's unoccupied. All we need to do is claim it."
She paused. Inhaled her massive chest. I swear I saw a lime-green button pop off and land in someone's drink.
The room seemed to inhale with her. Scores of eyes fixated tightly on Gertrude. I had to admit, I was interested as well. This could solve lots of problems for me. Let all the witches go live someplace else, somewhere they could steal each other's magic in peace and harmony—far, far away from me.
Had I mentioned the magic stealing? Witches that I've encountered have shown an uncanny appetite for stealing magic—it's a deadly, nasty business that involves skinning someone alive—and I've nearly been the victim of that mishap at least once.
See? Witches are bad, bad folks.
Not to mention the whole thing is super gross. Gag me with a spoon and all that.
"Where is this land?" asked a familiar-sounding voice.
I picked through the throng of dresses and capes to see Roman leaning against a gray column. My knees jellied. My gosh. It didn't matter how many times I saw the guy. Every time I laid eyes on him, my body did all sorts of whacked-out things—my heart knocked around, my legs wobbled and a herd of buffalo stampeded my stomach.
At six foot two with square shoulders, a chest chiseled of marble, a razor-sharp jaw and green eyes framed with smudgy dark lashes, Roman Bane was eye candy to the thousandth degree. And he was mine.
I mean, I guess. I hate to be all territorial. That wasn't really my style.
My gaze slashed back to Gertrude but then double-taked to Roman. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses. Like, literally everywhere the man went, he always wore black shades. Don't ask me why, but he did.
Only this time he wasn't. Was it a national holiday?
Gertrude cleared her throat. "The land is a small sliver that runs the length of the unicorn and winged monkey colonies in Fairyland. It's unoccupied, waiting for us to settle it."
"And waiting for you to wage war," Roman said, his voice hard.
Gertrude's puffed face reddened. "It's our land by right. We gave them Fairyland. We deserve that piece. It belongs to us."
"Here, here," came a few murmurs of agreement.
Roman pushed off from the column. "But it's theirs now and they're not interested in selling."
Gertrude tightened her fist. "Then we take what's rightfully ours."
"We take," shouted the crowd.
Dread spread through my chest. No wonder Em had called us here. This was bad. Very bad. Disastrous, actually. If the votes reflected the overwhelming sentiment in the room, then this woman, this Stay Puft Marshmallow Gertrude, would be the new Queen Witch and we'd be going to war against the unicorns—a sect of magical creatures that I knew and cared about.
"I tell you what. You won't be taking what isn't yours. Not without a fight."
A voice as smooth as top shelf whiskey filled the room. I glance at the entrance. A hulk of a man stood there. He brushed shoulder-length locks of wavy dark hair from his eyes. His massive arms looked like they would burst the seams of his motorcycle jacket, and hamstrings like tree trunks appeared inches away from splitting his black jeans.
"Who is that?" Sera whispered.
"It's the monkey king," Grandma said, leaning over.
"Ha-ha, that's good one," I said. "Seriously, Grandma."
"Seriously, what?" Grandma said.
"Seriously. Who is that?" Sera said.
"Who's who?" Grandma asked, eyes wide with innocence.
Sera crimped her lips between her teeth. "I can't. I just can't."
I raised a hand. "I've got this. Grandma. Who is that?"
"You mean, other than the monkey king?"
Frustration built inside me. "Who's that man? The one who spoke."
"The monkey king," she said.
"No. That man. The one who talked."
"The monkey king."
I paused. "You're saying that's the monkey king."
She shrugged. "Of course. Who else would it be?"
"He doesn't look like a monkey king," Sera said.
"What did you expect?" Grandma said. "The monkey king to look like a monkey?"
Sera and I exchanged glances. "Well, yes, we kind of did," I admitted.
"That's ridiculous. Why would the monkey king be a monkey?" Grandma said. "That's almost as ridiculous as the time the water sprites sent me a message to search for them in the desert. They couldn't convince me, though. Now, why would water sprites be in the desert?"
"I don't know, Grandma. To fool you?" I said.
"Exactly, but I was smarter than that."
"So you're saying that's the monkey king?" Sera whispered, staring at the Greek god who'd just walked in.
"That's correct."
"He's hot," Sera said.
"And he's the monkey king," I said. "We'll have to find out how that works later."
"I'm with you on that one," she said.
Gertrude sneered at the monkey king whose name I really wanted to know because calling a grown man a monkey really didn't seem right.
"Brock"—well there you go—"there doesn't have to be a fight. This could all be peaceful."
Brock, the really hot monkey king, placed a fist on his hip. "Your people like to take and take without giving. You forget you're the ones who chained us to that land. Now you want what's been ours for centuries. That's not gonna happen. Not without a fight."
Her smile reminded me of a snake's. "We'll see what happens when voting occurs tonight. Until then I suggest all of you think long and hard about whether or not you want to stay with wh
o's been ruling us. Or change." Gertrude left the podium, a ring of applause following her.
Grandma waved the air.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Brock over," she said.
"What?" Sera screeched. She raked her fingers through her perfect hair.
I elbowed her. "You look great."
Brock sauntered over. His face split into a smile when he saw my grandmother. "Hazel! What a surprise." He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the air. "It's been too long." He hugged her and then turned to us. His dark eyes twinkled, and I had to admit the guy was rugged, smelled like musk and was all man. "Tell me. Who are these beauties?"
Good night. Words flowed from his mouth like melted butter. Smooth, sexy and oh so Southern. I think all our tongues were wagging.
"These are my granddaughters," she said. I couldn't help but notice that Brock's gaze settled on Sera long enough for her neck to crimson.
"I'm Brock," he said, extending his hand.
"Sera," she said all breathy and stuff. As she stepped forward, her heel caught a divot in the stone floor. Sera pitched back, arms flailing, mouth open. I reached out, trying to save my sister.
Brock moved like lightning. In half a beat he had his arms wrapped around her and was holding Sera inches from the floor, effectively saving her from what could have been a deadly embarrassing fall.
Sera hooked her hands on his biceps. "Thank you," she whispered.
"My pleasure," he murmured.
Their eyes locked and that was it! Ka-blam! I think the earth moved. They were in love. Or at least, serious like.
Brock righted Sera. They stared at each other. A tall blonde woman appeared and tugged on his arm. "Your Highness," she said, sniffing the air like someone had just ripped a nasty fart, "we need to be going."
"Sure thing, Celeste." He nodded to us. "Please excuse me," he said, mostly to Sera. He disappeared into the crowd.
"Is it just me, or is it seriously smoking hot in here?" Reid said.
"I think the place is on fire," Sera managed.
"Dylan," Em said, grabbing me by the wrist. Her signature golden bangles tinkled and clanked against my skin. "Voting's tonight."
"It can't be tonight," Reid whined. "I've got a date."
Em sighed. "Don't worry. You'll be home in plenty of time for your date." She fixed her gaze back on me. "Dylan, your talents will be needed this evenin'. It wasn't on the invitation, but both you and Sera will be asked to make somethin'. You'll have to do it."
