by Amy Boyles
SIX
"No no no. I don't want to do this."
The next morning I was whisked away to some sort of salon where a male witch—or wizard or warlock or whatever—wearing a deep purple suit and a high swoosh of dark hair stood gesticulating about what he wanted to do with my signature high ponytail.
Pierre Pompadour steepled his hands in front of his nose. "But Madam Dylan, I'm only trying to make you the most beautiful Dylan you can be."
"I don't want to be the most beautiful Dylan I can be. I want to be myself."
He gestured toward my hair. "But this, this…thing. It does you no good justice. You need—what do you call it—pizazz in your life. Allow me just to trim this little bit and let it tumble over your shoulders. It will be all sexy and stuff."
I leaned away. Polly Parrot gripped my shoulder, his little wooden wings flapping as he balanced to keep up with my movements. No, girl, I hadn't gotten rid of it yet, but I sure was working on it. The bird was like a giant, flapping zit—annoying. I wondered if squirting a little Windex on it would make it vanish.
I doubted I would get that lucky.
Pierre reached for my tresses. I bolted from the chair. "No, thank you. I know Queen Witches are supposed to be regal and all, but no thanks. I'm not even a witch, really, so I won't be doing this for very long. Thank you anyway."
I darted from the salon, leaving Pierre gaping at me. As I dashed through the castle, trying to remember where my family was being stored, a cluster of men, papers flying, approached me.
"Your Highness," one said.
"I'm not a Your Highness," I snarled.
"Your Majesty," he continued.
"That's worse," I snapped.
"You have duties we must discuss. Papers need to be signed. Details have to be ironed out."
I stopped. "No. No. No. I'm not doing any of that. I'm only queen in name. I'm not a real queen. As soon as this mess is figured out, I'm leaving. So peace out."
I kicked my legs into a sprint and ran down the hall. No, I'm not kidding. I ran through twisting hallways, grand spaces, and up a flight of stairs until I found the room my family was staying in.
I burst through the door. My grandmother Hazel, Milly, Sera and Reid stared at me.
"I see Your Majesty has returned," Sera said.
I raised my hand. "Stop. Just stop. Don't even go there. This whole thing is an absolute mess."
"You can say that again," Grandma said. "Did you see what that bubble gum did to Gertrude? Messy. Messy. Messy."
Honestly I was talking about my own life here, but I didn't exactly want to disparage the dead by saying so. Oh, what the heck. Gertrude was a bad person.
"I meant me. Gertrude needed to go. Anyone who would even think about warring against the unicorns—"
"Or the monkey kings," Sera added.
"Is seriously evil," I finished.
Grandma pulled at a hair on her chin. "What a pudding."
"Pudding?" Sera said.
Grandma nodded, wide-eyed. "Yes. A heap of slop. This entire situation. The queen has been assassinated by a stick of bubble gum. I'm sure the old queen is a suspect, and the new queen is completely incompetent."
I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Thank you for that. Great way to boost my confidence."
Milly snapped her fingers. "How about a glass of tea? That should make you feel a little better."
"Lord yes," I said. "Please." I slumped into a chair. Milly magicked up some sweet tea, and I nearly poured the entire glass down my throat in three seconds flat. The sugary drink spilled over my tongue, instantly comforting me. Now all I needed was some mac and cheese and Alabama-style turkey and cornbread dressing and I'd be curled up in a ball, ready to sleep until tomorrow. By then this entire mess would be over.
One could only hope.
Someone knocked quietly on the door.
"Come in," I said.
A maid—at least I assumed it was the maid because she was wearing maid-looking black clothes and white apron—appeared.
"Is it all right if I clean up a bit?" she asked in a tiny mousy voice.
"Go for it," I said.
She swept and dusted. After a few minutes of tidying up, she left.
"Now," Milly said. "Since I've got the two of you here”—meaning me and Sera—"how about we work some magic?"
I stretched out my arms. "How about we don't and say we did?"
Milly scowled. "Dylan, you'll never master your power by letting it waste away inside you."
"Fine by me," I said.
Sera shrugged. "I'm down. Let's learn something."
"Hey," I said. "Not to interrupt or anything, but where's Nan?"
"With her people," Grandma said.
"Her people?" I said, perplexed.
"Yes. The protectors. She hasn't seen them in a while, and they summoned her to their part of the castle."
"Oh. Why?"
Grandma wiggled her fingers, and a wooden chest at the foot of the bed opened. What looked like a book of pictures floated up and landed on the quilt in front of her. She started flipping through it. "I don't know why they called for her. Perhaps they wanted to catch up on old times or new times or no times."
Milly clapped her hands. "You need to learn a freezing spell."
"A freezing spell?" Sera said, sitting up in her chair. "What, like calling down some snow?"
Milly shook her head. "No. I mean like stopping someone in their tracks. Freezing them."
"How cool," Reid said. "I want to watch."
I crossed to Grandma, trying to put all thoughts of magic out of my head. I wasn't interested. This wasn't my life.
"How about instead, you be the person she freezes," Milly said to Reid.
My baby sister pumped the air. "Yes! I get to be a part of some magic. Freeze me, Sera."
Milly cackled. "Sera, let's go over the basics."
I sat on the bed, closing my ears the best I could. I nestled beside my grandmother and peered at the book she'd taken from the chest. It was as I'd thought, a tome of old pictures.
"What's this?"
"Memories of your parents. It's their picture book."
I wedged my brows together. "What do you mean, their pictures?"
"Dylan, this was their room at the castle." She gestured at the chamber full of knickknacks. "This was where they stayed when they visited Castle Witch, so it holds their memories."
"Like this book?"
"Yes, of course."
I frowned. "So anyone could take this book at any time."
Grandma shook her head. "No. You must be related to the person to see their memories or mementos or even their Mentos, from what I understand."
"My parents didn't eat Mentos, Grandma."
She shrugged. "You never know. They may have done that trick with the Mentos and the Coke."
"How do you know about that?"
She fluffed the ends of her hair. "On the interweb, Dylan. I've seen it."
I patted her shoulder. "How about we focus on the book."
"Focus on the book!"
I'd almost forgotten I had a parrot latched to my shoulder. Silly me.
I shrugged off Polly's annoying presence and looked at the old snapshots. My gaze brushed over a pic of my parents in front of the Grand Canyon, smiling widely for the camera, my dad's arm wrapped around my mom's shoulders. Both of them looked young, vibrant, happy. The entire book was like that, faded photos of them at various locations. In all of them they looked drunk on love. Or was it punched on love? It was definitely not punched on love. Why would love be punching you?
I ran the tips of my fingers over the plastic film covering. "Why haven't I ever seen these?"
"I suppose because your parents wanted you to find them here."
I edged back. "Here? At Castle Witch? Why?"
"I don't know, Dylan. They never told me. Some things will always be a secret." She gave me a tender smile and continued flipping the pages.
"Don't move! Reid,
whatever you do, don't move!"
Sera's voice snapped me out of my reverie. I glanced over—er, I mean up—and saw Reid floating in the air, a ring of fire encircling her.
I jumped off the bed. "What the— What happened?"
Sera shook her head. She glanced at her hands as if they were clubs of meat extending from her arms and not flexing fingers. "I don't know. I did what Milly said, focused on stopping time around Reid, and that's what happened."
Reid floated in the air, her arms thrust in front of her, her legs kicked back as if running. A look of horror was splashed across her face.
I threw Milly a worried glance. "Can you get her down?"
Milly ignored me, keeping her focus tightly on Sera. "You can do it. Focus on erasing the fire, vanish it away from her and bring her down."
Worry lines were etched all over Sera's face. "I don't know."
Milly stamped her cane. "You can do it."
I nibbled the edges of my nails. The worry that plagued Sera was nothing compared to the knots and winged bats that had invaded my stomach. What had gone wrong?
Sera stared at Reid, biting her bottom lip. "Just reverse what I did. Reverse it," she said to herself.
Milly rose, crossed to Sera and placed a reassuring gnarled hand on my sister's shoulder. "Vanish and bring her down. As simple as that."
Sera exhaled and rotated her shoulders back. "I can do it."
"Yes, you can," I cheered.
I clenched my hands as Sera focused on Reid. She raised her arms. A swirl of magic lifted up to the ceiling, wrapping itself around my sister. I held my breath.
A spray of fireworks burst from the ceiling. The light blinded me. I closed my eyes as an ear-splitting crash echoed in the chamber.
I blinked my eyes open. On the floor lay Reid.
She had been turned to stone.
SEVEN
My heart pounded in my chest, it thundered in my throat and it crashed against my temples. No one breathed. No one moved.
Except Reid.
"Uh, why does it feel like I weigh a ton," she said.
The room exhaled. I swear I even heard Polly release a breath. Was that possible?
"Probably because you do," I said.
"What? Why can't I move?"
Reid lay on her side, her arms forward, her legs back. Her lips didn't move when she talked, but I clearly heard her voice.
Sera knelt down. She brushed a hand over our terra-cotta-colored sister's cheek. "Well, you can't move because…not sure how to explain this…"
"Because you're a lawn ornament," Milly said.
I glared at her. "Nice," I said. "Why don't you just put a bowl in her hands and tell birds to come and take a bath."
"What are y'all talking about," Reid asked in a tinny, hollow voice. She sounded like a person trapped behind a wall.
Fitting.
Grandma walked over and patted her arm. "Dear, your sister's spell to freeze you didn't exactly work."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, let's put it this way—you won't be going anywhere by yourself for a while."
"What?" she shrieked. "What are you talking about? Am I paralyzed or something? I swear to all that's good and holy, Sera, if you ruined my chances with Rick, I will give you a buzz cut in your sleep."
"Relax, Reid," I said. "This isn't going to hurt your chances with Rick."
"It's not?" she whimpered.
"No, of course not," I cooed. "I mean, as long as he likes girls who look like planters, you should be fine."
"What?"
Milly wiped tears from her eyes. "Your sister turned you into stone. Could be worse. She could have turned you into Polly's twin sister."
"What?" Reid shrieked.
"I didn't even think of that," I said. "That's true, Reid. Consider yourself lucky."
"I'm made of stone! How can I be lucky?"
"You're still alive, kid," Milly said.
Grandma nodded. "And it's not as if an army of harpies attacked you and ripped you apart."
"Yeah, Reid," Sera scoffed. "Can you please try to keep some perspective? I mean, come on."
Sera glanced at me. We burst into a fit of laughter. I knuckled several budding tears from the hem of my lashes. After a couple minutes the entire room settled.
"Is someone going to do something about this?" Reid asked.
Milly gestured at Sera and Grandma. "Let's round up and turn the kid back into flesh. Should only take a minute."
Sera clutched her mouth. "No," she said quickly. "You do it. I'll watch."
Milly studied her with those small, beady eyes of hers. "What's wrong with you, toots?"
"I can't. I mean, something weird's going on with my magic. Can you do it without me?"
"Do cotton balls grow on trees?" Grandma said.
No.
Sera tilted her head. "Does that mean you can or can't do it?"
Grandma glanced at me. "We've got to get you out more. Then you'd know about the cotton-ball trees in Fairyland."
I rubbed my temples. "Grandma, I don't even know about those. And I've been to Fairyland once, remember?"
She raised a ringed finger to the sky. "Well, we'll have to plan a minivacation."
"Can someone please just fix me?" Reid said in that faraway voice of hers.
Grandma clapped her hands. "Of course. I almost forgot."
Not sure how you could almost forget about your life-sized stone granddaughter lying on the floor, but hey, I've heard of stranger things—most of them had come straight out of my grandmother's mouth.
"Dylan, you'll want to help with this," Milly said.
"Nope."
Grandma and Milly stared at me. "But we need three," Grandma said. "I'm one, Milly's two, and Sera would be three, but apparently her magic is broken."
"Thanks," Sera said, rolling her eyes.
"You're welcome," Grandma said brightly.
Milly caned over to me. "We don't need much help. Just keep the circle open. I don't know what's with you girls. One of you doesn't want her magic and the other can't get hers under control. Worst bit of witchcraft I've seen in years."
"Maybe you should stop trying to teach us," I said.
"Maybe you should just accept what you are and get on with it," Milly shot back.
Well, someone was certainly testy this morning.
"You're Queen Witch, Dylan. With that comes great responsibly," Grandma added.
"Who am I now, Spiderman? Are you going to tell me there's some witchy sense I've been missing out on?"
"No, you're Dylan. I don't know why you'd bring a cartoon character into this," Grandma said.
"Comic book character, Grandma." I pinched the bridge of my nose and breathed like a Zen monk. In and out. Peace and harmony.
"Still," Grandma said, pulling a tiara from the pocket of her floor-length cardigan. She settled the combs down atop her head and said, "I don't see why you had to bring him into it."
It just wasn't worth it to explain. It never was. I'd have a migraine before I finished. It'd be like playing Who's on First. In fact, nearly every conversation with Grandma was like that. Every single one. It was a wonder my blood pressure stayed under control.
Wait. I guess I didn't know if that was true or not. Perhaps I needed to go to a doctor.
More like psychiatrist, actually, with my crazy family.
Milly cleared her throat. She quirked her brows at me expectantly.
"Fine," I said. "I'll circle up, but don't expect much more from me than that."
I clasped hands with my grandmothers while Milly chanted quietly. A green wisp of magic appeared above Reid's body. It floated to the floor and blanketed her, engulfing my sister like a cocoon. The magic shimmered like a thousand diamonds. It stole my breath. I smiled at its beauty. The cloud brightened and then vanished with a blip.
Reid lay on the floor, her burgundy curls tangled about her face. She stretched her arms and legs. I helped pull her to standing. "Whew. If I ever get tu
rned into stone again, would someone please make sure I'm in a better position? I think I'm going to be sore for days."
I hugged her. "How about your hands on your butt? Then I'll bring Rick around to show him."
"Ha-ha," she said. "Very funny."
"I'm just glad you're okay," Sera said.
Reid took a timid step back. "Yeah, I don't think I'm going to be your guinea pig anymore."
Sera raked her fingers through her glassy chocolate-colored hair. "I'm telling y'all, something is up with my magic."
A dull knock came from our door.
"Come in," Grandma said.
The hinges groaned as the door opened.
"Someone should really oil those," Reid said.
Roman stood in the entrance, a dark expression on his face. The sight of his six-two hulking frame made my stomach quiver.
"Hey," I said in the huskiest voice I could muster.
"Are you catching a cold, Dylan?" Grandma asked.
I shot arrows from my eyes at her. "No. I'm not."
"Then you shouldn't do that to your voice. You'll ruin it."
"Thanks," I said grimly.
Roman didn't seem to notice what had passed between us. "Dylan, I need you to come with me."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why?" squawked Polly.
"Because we've found a thread of magic on Gertrude's body."
Reid clapped her hands in glee. "You mean—"
Roman nodded. "We may have found our killer."
EIGHT
Roman escorted me down the hallway. "But I don't understand why you need me."
"The queen attends official interrogations if she's available."
"Roman, I'm not the queen."
He tipped his head toward me. A lock of bleach-blond hair fell into his eyes. "Yes, you are."
I sighed. "But I'm not happy about it."
"Doesn't really matter."
"You're so full of help in this situation."
He stopped, took me by the shoulders and stared at me long and hard. Emotions flashed over his face—it looked like sorrow, anger, and something else—regret?
"Darlin', if I could get you out of this, I would. Believe me. I'd be the first to do it. I don't want you to carry the burden of queen. You're not ready for it."
