Don't Give a Witch (Bless Your Witch Book Six)

by Amy Boyles

  So, galaxies it is.

  Chasity crossed to a vanity and planted her tush on the stool. “I didn’t come to see them. I came to see you.”

  One of my eyebrows arched in automatic interest. “Oh?”

  “You know why.”

  I sighed. I did know why. I crossed to my purse and unzipped a side pocket. My fingers brushed over metal, and I pulled a ring from the place I’d stowed it weeks ago, right before Roman and I left for Paris. Gold metal encased a large clear stone that resembled a crystal more than a diamond. It was heavy as I shook it in my palm.

  “Well?” Chasity said.

  “I haven’t told him.”

  Her eyes bugged out in surprise.

  I held my hand up, stopping any sort of comments. “It hasn’t been the right time. I’m going to tell him, just when I feel like everything’s right.”

  Chasity tossed a thick lock of hair over one shoulder. “You remember what it does, right?”

  I nodded. “It’s a pact ring. The stone turns red when a person who is part of the pact puts it on. More importantly, this is the person who was here, at the castle, the night Roman’s mother was killed.”

  “It’s the person who did it,” Chasity corrected. “The one who planned the entire thing and put it together. You find that person, and you’ll have the head honcho.”

  I traced my thumbnail over the stone. “You mean we’ll have the Master?”

  The Master had tried to have me killed as well as Roman’s father, not to mention the fact that the Master had been orchestrating magic stealing—which meant witches were being killed for their power. My guess, and I had no way to corroborate this, was that the Master was finding new witches and killing them before anyone could discover their abilities. Then the magic was sold or used by the Master.

  Chasity jumped off the stool. “That ring will give you Queen Catherine’s killer.”

  I swallowed a knot in my throat. Twenty years ago Roman’s mother, who was queen, and his three sisters had been murdered in the castle. Roman’s father had seen one of the perpetrators—Wanda LaRue, Chasity’s mother.

  LaRue, who had been murdered a few weeks ago, had given Chasity the pact ring and explained its purpose.

  Roman himself had also been in the castle that night. He’d seen someone as well, a witch with a wand. He’d knocked the wand from her hand, but hadn’t been able to follow the witch. He’d only been thirteen at the time.

  For twenty years the murders had gone unsolved. This was the closest anyone had ever come to figuring out who was the killer. LaRue explained to Chasity that there was one person who was behind the killings and had committed the worst atrocities. When that person put on the ring, the stone would turn red and we’d have our killer.

  All I had to do was slip the ring on the right person’s finger and a twenty-year mystery would be solved.

  Simple as pie.

  Only I hadn’t told Roman about it yet. I guess I was being kind of chicken about the whole thing. Either that or selfish, I didn’t know. I hadn’t wanted to tell him in Paris because, well, it was Paris and we were there on vacation.

  But now we were back and had been for a while. He needed to know. I needed to tell him.

  I pushed the ring down into my pocket and scratched my scalp hard like I was trying to give myself a massage. “You’re right. I need to tell him. I’ll do it as soon as we get back to Silver Springs.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to wait that long,” Chasity said.

  I rubbed my temples. Boy, did that feel good. “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “Because Roman’s here. You can tell him now.”

  “Tell me what?”

  I cringed. I shot Chasity a frantic look but managed to screw on my biggest smile as I turned around and found Roman in the doorway.

  A cloud of musk trickled up my nose. It was a fragrance as comforting to me as the smell of macaroni and cheese or even coffee.

  Chasity headed for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. That’s when they’re going over the rules of the competition.”

  I waved. “See you then.”

  Roman entered the room as she left. He wrapped a hand around my waist.

  “What are you doing here?” I said.

  “Making sure no one gets up to anything suspicious.”

  I quirked a brow. “At a competition?”

  He slid his sunglasses off and dropped them on the bed. Roman tilted his head to one side, which made the curve of his jaw look especially delicious.

  “You never know what can happen at these things. People don’t like to be cut from competing and they especially don’t like it when their entries are sabotaged. Besides, we’ve been getting reports that someone’s selling a potion that’s giving folks nasty side effects.”

  “Who?”

  He shook his head. “We don’t know. No one will say because it’s a magical Viagra potion. No one wants to admit to taking it.”

  “But they’re reporting side effects.”

  “It’s a rumor we’ve been hearing. Nothing concrete.” He kissed my forehead. “Now. What were you going to tell me?”

  My stomach twisted. I really didn’t want to tell him. I really wanted to play stupid. “Hold out your hand.”

  He did. I dug the ring from my pocket and dropped it in his hand.

  “A pact ring,” he said.

  “You know what it is?”

  He nodded. “I recognize the stone. But whose is it?”

  “It was Wanda LaRue’s. She gave it to Chasity and told her the stone would turn red on the finger of the person who murdered your mother.”

  Roman’s breath hitched. His gaze sharpened on the ring. His sea-green eyes darkened, becoming stormy. “This?” he whispered. “This holds the answer?”

  I nodded. “This is it. The last clue you’ve been searching for. All we have to do is find the right witch and you’ll have your answers.”

  Roman pulled away from me. He sank onto the bed, staring at the ring. “For so long I’ve wanted a magic bullet, something that would make all this easier and painless.” His gaze flickered to me and then landed back on the gold and crystal as he studied it. “And here it is. The one thing that can bring closure to twenty years of mystery. It can’t end the pain, but it can make all of this worth it. All the years I spent on the run from the witch police, convicted of a murder I didn’t commit, and all the years my father was gone. The pain that I had when people thought he was guilty of killing my mom and sisters—I can’t begin to describe it.”

  Roman clenched his fist around the ring. He brought the fist to his forehead and tapped it as if working out a problem. He released a long shot of breath and looked up. In his eyes I saw hard-lined determination.

  “What?” I said. “What is it?”

  He rose, stretching to his full height. “There’s just one thing to do now.”

  I dragged my teeth across my bottom lip. “What’s that?”

  Anger flecked in his eyes when he answered, “Find the witch and make her pay.”

  FOUR

  The next morning I followed my sisters into the great hall. It was the same place where we’d lined up to give our names and hope that we’d be able to enter the contest. Now the lines were gone and in their place were chairs, about fifty or so of them.

  “So this is who all made it,” I said to Sera.

  “Yeah.”

  The three of us stood in the entrance. My knees shook. I stood in a roomful of witches way more experienced than I was. I felt over my head, drowning under a gazillion gallons of water.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Sera whacked me on the back. “Snap out of it.”

  I inhaled a deep gulp of air. “What?”

  She rubbed my arm. “You’re panicking. I can tell. Chill. It’s not a big deal.”

  I took in a deep breath and released it. “You’re right.”

  Reid shoved between us. “Where are we going to sit?”

  All the sea
ts in back were taken. Figured. We’d have to pass every single witch and sit right up front, right up under the speaker’s nose. Great. I’d look like a Goody Two-shoes.

  Did people still use that phrase? How about instead I’d look like a brownnoser, a kiss up. Might as well raise my hand right now. Here I am, y’all! Dylan Apel, kiss-up extraordinaire. I’ll finish my homework in five minutes, wear lots of red lipstick and cutesy outfits and not complain about one thing.

  Yeah, right.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said.

  With head high, shoulders back and more fake confidence than I think I’d ever donned in my life, I led my sisters down the aisle.

  My gaze slid sideways when I noticed a witch juggling a trio of small fire balls, while another was applying lipstick directly from her finger onto her mouth. I glanced back at Sera on that one.

  She shot me an eager look. We were both thinking the same thing. We wanted to learn that trick. Heck, if I could make lipstick appear on my finger, what else could I leave out of my purse?

  My cell phone? My wallet? Seriously. I could learn some awesome magical tricks here.

  We found three seats right up front and took them. Less than a minute later, Damon Devlin appeared in a plume of smoke. He stood behind a small lectern.

  He was pale, almost vampire pale—like the guy never went out into the sun. The widow’s peak didn’t help, either. Made him look like he was about to suck my blood.

  I giggled at the thought. Sera elbowed my ribs.

  “That’s an upgrade from the red ascot he was wearing earlier,” Reid said.

  Ascot? I mouthed.

  She nodded. “Yep. Guy decided to do some high-end fashion apparently.”

  He cleared his throat. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Damon Devlin, chairman of the Magical Abilities contest.” He smiled, revealing pearly whites that were paler than his skin, which was hard to beat. “Welcome to you all. The judging committee is ecstatic that you’ve joined us. This year, the judges include Councilwoman Gladiolas.”

  With a puff of smoke the councilwoman appeared behind him. She wore a smart gray pantsuit. Fine lines marked her face, but Gladiolas had taken good care of herself through her fifty- or sixty-odd years. She wore her age in a regal sort of way. Her gaze settled on the room, and when it found me, her mouth curled into a smile.

  Relief flooded my body. I felt much better knowing that she was here. For the most part Gladiolas was on the side of me and my sisters. Whenever we did something wrong, she was always around to help us sort things out—or get us out of trouble, whichever came first.

  “The next judge is Frederick Cobblestone,” Devlin announced.

  A spiral of smoke coiled up from the floor. It dissipated into wispy vapors. In its place stood a man with long white hair and a severe face. It was a face I instantly recognized.

  I leaned over to Sera. “He kinda looks like that horrible guy yesterday.”

  “You mean the one who hissed at you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pressed at a worry line forming on her forehead. “Hmmm.”

  “Wonder if he ever got in the contest,” I whispered.

  Sera glanced around the hall. “I don’t see him.”

  Cobblestone nodded to the ground. His steely gaze sent a chill zinging down my spine. That man instantly gave me the creeps.

  “And our last judge,” Devlin said, “is one of my personal favorites. Every contest we offer a potion that goes along with the prizes of sitting at court for a year, and getting the special winner tour that takes you around the country. This year’s prize, as all of you know, is Never Forget. Every Magical Abilities time, a member of the family who originally owned the winner’s potion is asked to be one of the judges. This year, I’m pleased to announce that Hazel Horton is that judge.”

  My mouth fell. A spray of glitter and rainbows sprang up behind him. They fizzled out into the shape of my grandmother.

  “What the heck?” Reid whispered. “She didn’t tell us she was a judge.”

  “Are you really surprised?” I shot back. “I mean, she likes to keep things from us.”

  Grandma swung her arms back and forth. Her gaze bobbed around the room until she found us. She gave us a totally embarrassing finger wave.

  I sank down in my seat and wished for a swift death.

  Devlin cleared his throat once more. “Those are the judges.” He turned to them. “Thank you for coming. Now, let me go over the rules.”

  He paused as if waiting for conversations to die off. When no one said anything, he continued. “You will be given three projects. The first will show how well you control magic, the second will show the strength of your magic, and the third and final trial will show the magnitude of your magic.”

  “What?” Reid said. “Magnitude?”

  “Just listen,” I whispered.

  “I don’t know what that means,” she said.

  “He’ll explain it.”

  I noticed that Devlin had stopped talking. I glanced up and found him staring at me and my sister. Apparently we’d grabbed his attention with our little conversation.

  “Sorry,” I said. “We were just having a discussion on what the magnitude of magic means.”

  “I’ll explain,” he said.

  “That’s what I figured,” I said. “That’s what I was telling my sister.”

  Embarrassment in the form of heat creeped up my neck and washed over my face. I could feel the eyes of every person in the room searing into me. Oh my gosh, I felt like such an absolute goober that I completely sank into the folded metal chair and zoned out while Mr. Devlin was going over all the trials by fire, or whatever.

  Might as well have been trials by fire. I mean, it was a magical competition. I was pretty sure there’d be some fire somewhere.

  “Are there any questions?” he said.

  No one spoke.

  “Good. Now we’ll discuss the prize. I’ve mentioned that the winner sits at court for a year and also tours the country. It’s a wonderful way to network with other witches. Also, for centuries Never Forget has been revered as an ancient elixir, as a way to keep your enemies from gaining control over you. We all know that wiping memories of nonmagics, though not the best way to do things, is important and often necessary. I’ve also known of witches who’ve gotten in the middle of their wiping spells and erased their own memories. This won’t happen again with Never Forget. It’s truly a magical potion that will stop your memory from being erased magically. Now, if in your old age you start to forget due to other things, that’s not something this can help you with. But I digress.”

  Devlin beamed at us. He pointed to a half column stationed off to the side. “Here’s what all of you are competing for.”

  He pointed to a cloth draped over the column. It whisked up and away, landing on the floor. Beneath it sat what looked like an uncapped bottle of root beer.

  Devlin gasped.

  Reid leaned over to me. “What? Did someone drink it and they weren’t supposed to?”

  A queasy feeling sank into my stomach. It churned and coiled, a wave of nausea that flooded my body.

  “The potion,” Devlin shrieked.

  “No,” I said. “No one drank it.”

  Devlin walked over and lifted the empty bottle. He glanced back at the judges and then out into us, the audience.

  With a gasp he said, “Never Forget has been stolen!”

  FIVE

  Roman instituted a lockdown immediately. If anyone tried to flee, he would be alerted.

  “So is some sort of alarm going to blare if anyone tries to leave?” I said.

  He shook his head. “I’ll be notified. Em’s people keep a log of who comes and goes by magic.”

  I quirked a brow. “A log?”

  “That’s right. An alarm log.”

  “What’s the big deal?” I said. “It’s just a potion that I could probably make out of some twigs and a little chicken bone.”

  Roman
shot me a scathing look. “Never Forget is a highly guarded secret. The person who stole it could be using it for any variety of reasons. Possibly to figure out how to manufacture it, or even to keep it for themselves. This is a big deal. The witch council wants whoever did this to be caught and the elixir found. My job is to turn this castle upside down until I’ve caught the criminal.”

  I clicked my tongue. “Okay. Well count me wrong then. So this is a big stink.”

  Grandma flew into my room. “This is bigger than a big stink! This is about the Horton family’s legacy.”

  I rubbed a budding headache from my forehead. “How do you mean? How is this about the family’s legacy?”

  Grandma wrung her hands, her silver rings jangling. She stared out the window with weepy eyes. “Centuries ago the Hortons perfected this recipe. Witches had tried before, but their potions often resulted in unwanted things like flatulence that blew roofs right off houses, or warts that grew when someone told a lie.” She tapped the end of her nose. “Why, one time I even heard tale of a witch who got so thirsty she swallowed half of Lake Erie.”

  “Ew,” Reid said. “How’d she manage that?”

  Grandma shrugged. “She may have given herself a bottomless stomach.”

  “Hmm. Can I get one of those and use it so I don’t gain weight? I really like to eat.”

  “Yeah,” Sera said. “Can I also spell my body to feel like I’ve worked out and stay in shape without actually having to go to the gym?”

  Grandma smiled widely. “Now you girls are getting it. You’re beginning to understand the real complexities and wonders of magic. This is where the fun begins!”

  I pushed myself off the stool I was sitting on and crossed to the window. After resting my hip on the lip of the sill, I said, “That’s great and all, but why the rush on this? Why the lockdown?”

  Grandma’s face hardened. I’d never seen her look so angry before, not in all my life. A shiver raced down my spine, sending chill bumps over my arms. “Because, my dear. It’s theorized that if someone figures out the complexities of Never Forget, it could be reverse engineered, meaning the exact opposite magic could be achieved. Instead of Never Forget for one person, a very smart witch could create Always Forget for a mass of people.”