by Amy Boyles
Reid scratched her head. “But you wipe people’s memories. You wiped half the neighborhood’s one time.”
Grandma nodded. “But I’m old and I’ve had lots of practice. It’s very difficult to erase someone’s memory who’s undergone trauma. It can be done, but it’s difficult. A witch or wizard must have a lot of power behind them to do that. But if someone managed to create a forget spell that was sure to work under any situation, that could be a problem.”
“How?” I said.
Roman shook his head. “You could do dangerous things—commit terrible crimes and simply erase people’s memories about it. You could rob a bank in plain sight and then make everyone forget you were ever there—and that’s on a small level. What if you took it bigger, and did things that were worse?”
Sera rubbed her chin. “And what if you sold it?”
The scale of what we were talking about finally hit me. “You could have folks committing terrible crimes, regular people and witches. This could be bad.”
Reid raised her hand. “I have a question. If it’s so serious and such a big deal, why are they giving away the potion for winning this whole contest? What’s to stop the winner from doing the same thing?”
Grandma smiled like the cat who ate the canary. “The winner only gets a drop or so of potion. It’s highly regulated.”
I frowned. “So then what’s all this talk about the family line and this potion being important to us? How would that help us if we only get one drop?”
“Because, Dylan, since our family created the potion, we have the ability to ask for the entire thing. To get it back so that it stays in the family and no one else can use it.”
“Is this that important to you?” Sera said.
Grandma nodded. “It is. The potion was sold off for money. I want it back, and I plan on getting it.”
Roman and I went for a walk around the castle. I needed to stretch my legs, and he needed to think.
“Stone,” I murmured. “That horrible Taylor guy hissed at me yesterday.”
Roman did a double take. “What?”
“Oh yeah, he tried to register for the contest but was told he couldn’t enter. I remember him not only because he hissed at me on the way out but because he wore crocodile-skin boots with dress pants. Really horrible combination.”
“Remind me never to ask you for fashion advice,” he joked.
“You should always ask me for advice. That’s how you avoid hideous catastrophes like animal skin and polyester. Anyway, one of the judges was a Cobblestone?”
Roman smiled. “If I’m thinking of the same Taylor Stone, it was revealed that he’s actually a Cobblestone.”
“What?”
Roman nodded. “He had tried to pass himself off under a different name. Frederick Cobblestone is his father.”
“What?”
Roman nodded. “Yep. He’s Taylor’s father.”
It was my turn to be amazed and a little mystified. “How do you know that?”
Roman kicked a pebble down the path. “Because I know all. I hear all.”
“Very funny.”
Roman ran his fingers through his sun-bleached locks. “Stay away from them. The Cobblestones. They’re nothing but trouble.”
Hmm. That sounded interesting. “Like the good kind of trouble or the bad kind of trouble?”
Roman’s eyes slid in my direction. “The bad kind. Stay away.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. No problem. Stay away from them. But if I do that, how am I going to help you solve this case?”
He chuckled briefly, then pressed his lips into a grim line and said, “You aren’t.”
I stopped, spread my legs wide and fisted my hands on my hips. “Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
“Oh, no sir, that’s not good enough for me. You’ve taken me to Paris, so we’re joined when it comes to this kind of thing. I’m like your sidekick. Your super annoying sidekick who has a heart of gold, always gets in the way and never fails to help solve the crime.”
Roman tugged my arm so I’d keep walking. “Or never fails to nearly get killed.”
“Not my fault if bad guys want to see me dead.”
“I’m a good guy, and I want to see you alive.”
I quirked a brow. “How alive?”
“How about you live to a ripe old age, have lots of children and grandchildren and die peacefully in your sleep?”
I nodded. “Sounds good. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to help.”
We reached the gates of the castle. A large gathering of men and women stood on the other side, waiting to get in. I recognized a few of their faces, but I didn’t know any of their names.
One of them, a portly man with a chestnut-colored handlebar mustache and a bald head, waved Roman over.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
I thought it was a little weird that Roman would leave me all alone, but whatever the guy wanted to discuss, it must’ve been important. The man grasped Roman by the shoulder and proceeded to huddle up with him. After a couple of minutes the conversation ended and Roman returned.
“Who was that and what did he want?” I said. I was nothing if not straight to the point.
Roman released a low whistle. “That was one of the council members. Seems we’ve got bigger issues to deal with.”
“You mean them?” I said, glancing to the knot of folks.
“I mean them.”
“Who are they?”
“Those, Dylan Apel”—when he said my name chills tingled out to my fingers—“are the who’s who of the witching world. Most of them are councilmen, but plenty of the others are simply the elite.”
“What are they doing here?”
“They’re here because they all know that Never Forget was stolen.”
“And?” I said. “So what’s the big deal to them.”
He scrubbed a palm down the stubble on his cheek. “The big deal is they want to watch me catch a thief.”
“So they’ve come to make sure you find them?”
He nodded. “And if I don’t, then we’ve got real problems.”
The crowd slowly ambled through the gates and started making their way toward us. They were older and stately. The women had fierce eyes and perfect skin. The men had silver hair slicked back to lie flat. They wore expensive suits and the women, well-tailored outfits.
I nibbled the end of my finger. “What sort of problems will we have?”
“Not you. Me.”
I scowled. “What do you mean, you, not me?”
Roman took a deep breath. “They take this whole thing very seriously. It’s a high crime to have stolen the potion. If either I or Jonathan Pearbottom doesn’t find the thief, we’ll be punished.”
“You?” I practically snarled. I mean, no one was going to punish Roman for something he didn’t do. “Why would they punish you?”
“Because they need to catch a criminal. They need to look like something is being done.”
“So what will they do to you?”
Roman glanced at the ground. When he looked up, worry filled his eyes. “They’ll arrest me for treason.”
SIX
I stumbled back. “No way is that going to happen on my watch.” I grabbed Roman’s hand and dragged him off. “Listen, let’s go find the thief.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to meet with Jonathan Pearbottom about this. Let him know what’s at stake.”
I glanced around, expecting the inspector to pop up from behind some bushes or something. “Is he here? Isn’t he supposed to be on his honeymoon?”
Roman glanced at his watch. “They’re postponing it until this whole thing is cleared up. I need to go track him down. You coming?”
I had no interest in meeting with Jonathan Pearbottom, not because I didn’t like him; it was just that he used to blame me when things went wrong. In fact he once had me put under house arrest. Our relationship was strained at best, even thou
gh I did attend his wedding.
I toed back away from Roman. “No, I don’t think I’ll come. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Dylan,” he growled.
I widened my eyes and pouted out my lips in an attempt to make me look innocent as a lamb. “Yes?”
“Don’t do anything.”
I crossed my fingers behind my back. “I’m not.”
“I know you’ve got your fingers crossed.”
I quickly uncrossed them. “You’re no fun.”
“I’m not supposed to be fun. I’m investigating a crime.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets and said, “I won’t get into any trouble. I’ll go back to my room.”
“Okay.” He pulled his black sunglasses from a shirt pocket and slid them onto his face. He suddenly transformed from Roman Bane, my boyfriend, to Roman Bane, ex-assassin and current chief detective in my hometown of Silver Springs. He even clenched his jaw, which seemed to seal the deal.
I walked away, having absolutely no intention of beelining straight to my room. The first thing I did was make a little detour and return to the hall. When I got there, I saw that everything had been cleared away, including the root beer bottle.
The only person in the room was Damon Devlin. He sat in the front row of chairs, his fist tucked under his chin as if he was thinking deep thoughts.
“Any word on the thief?” I said.
Devlin bolted up. His neck snapped in my direction. “No, no word yet, Miss Apel. Shouldn’t you be off practicing?”
“Um. Practicing? For what?”
He rubbed his eyebrow. “For tomorrow’s competition?”
I noticed it looked like he actually oiled the widow’s peak. It shone so brightly it practically made a halo around his head. I kinda wanted to touch it to see what it felt like.
I’m weird, I know.
I came out of my own inner thoughts long enough to realize what he had said. “Practice for the competition? I thought it had been canceled?”
Devlin frowned. “Absolutely not. The council and many other witches have arrived just for this.” He rose with a flourish. “The show must go on. No matter what. The investigators will discover who stole Never Forget and it will be returned before the competition ends in three days’ time. I suggest you either go upstairs to practice or find the other contestants. They’d love to help you control your magic better, I’m sure.”
I numbly said, “Thank you.”
“I’ll escort you to the others.”
Great. ’Cause I have a thousand questions for you.
Devlin was tall and walked fast. I had to sprint to keep up with him. When I spoke, it was between heavy pants. “So that guy you turned away yesterday, Taylor Cobblestone? He was totally weird. He hissed at me on the way out.”
Devlin’s face hardened at the mention of Cobblestone. “Yes. Some people expect the earth to quake when they walk, and for walls to fall when they yell.”
I followed Devlin down a hall to a large room with gray limestone walls. I hugged my arms as a cool burst of wind sliced into me.
“What’s going on in here?”
Devlin stepped aside to let me see. There must’ve been about twenty witches in the room, all working on their magic.
The witch closest to me, a small round woman with wiry hair, was making a ball of ice. A small blizzard, clouds and all, hovered over her, raining down sheets of snow. Another blast of cold wind smacked my face. If the air-conditioning ever failed in the castle, that was the witch I needed to find.
In front of her stood a small boy, and in front of him floated a row of neatly aligned silver spoons. The boy gazed at them, unflinching. I quirked a brow, unsure as to what the heck was going on. As the boy stared at them, the spoons bent, one after the other, as if he was playing the xylophone or something. It was neat.
And way intimidating.
“I’ll leave you here,” Devlin said. “See you in the morning, and good luck.” He flashed me a smile, pivoted on his heel and left. I had to say, that guy was kinda sophisticated. He may have looked like a vampire and everything, but he definitely had it together.
A whistle sounded. I peered through the bodies and watched as a squat woman wearing a baseball hat that read COACH walked down the aisle. Oh, and she also wore black orthopedic shoes, nude support hose and a beige skirt.
The whistle tooted again, and everyone stopped what they were doing. “Everyone hold on. We’ve got a new addition. Let’s get her into a spot.” My paternal grandmother, Milly Jones, waved me forward like a cop directing traffic. “Come on, toots. There’s space for you up here.”
“Um. Okay. Great. So what exactly am I supposed to do?” I glanced over and saw a witch who looked to be my age with long pink hair. In one hand she held a cricket. The cricket jumped and she suspended it in midair, freezing it in place. She snickered as I walked past.
Milly clapped me on the back like we were old buddies. “Today you’re supposed to be working on controlling your magic. Tomorrow when you’re called before the judges, they’ll give you the challenge.”
“What?” I shrieked. “I won’t know what I’m supposed to do until I get there?” A knot twisted in my stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Don’t be nervous.” She directed me to a spot where my sisters were already working. “Your sisters will help you. They know what’s going on.”
I took a spot in front of Reid. “How the heck did I miss that the competition is still going on?” I rubbed away a headache that flared in my temples.
Reid threw a wad of yarn in the air. I watched as it uncoiled and started to crochet itself—without any needles anywhere to be seen.
“Wow. You’ve really gotten good,” I murmured.
“They announced it later,” Sera chimed. “That the competition was still going on. You must’ve been with Roman. I think they considered canceling it, but I guess they figure they’ll find the potion before then. You know, since we’re on lockdown and all.”
“Oh, about that,” I said.
“Less talking and more working,” Milly shouted.
I threw her a dark look. She responded by tugging on her COACH hat. Well, I guess that meant I had to follow her rules. Fine.
“Lots of different ages in here,” I said to Sera.
“Yeah. You can only compete once for the prize and there’s no age restriction in terms of how young you can be. As long as you get in, you can compete. At least that’s what Milly said.”
Reid wiped a line of sweat from her forehead. “She also said we’d better remember all the training she’s ever given us, because it was all leading up to this moment.”
“Great,” I said. “I probably should’ve paid more attention.”
I yanked a piece of lint from my pocket, suspended it in the air and started turning it.
“What were you saying about the lockdown?” Reid said.
I lowered my voice to avoid Coach Grandma Milly’s wrath. “If Roman doesn’t find the thief, the council will throw him in jail for treason.”
“That’s stupid,” Reid said.
“That’s witches for you,” Sera said. “They have the stupidest rules.”
“Agreed,” I said. “We need to get on the council and change all their rules. Have them make more sense. Not be so hard-nosed.”
“Hmm,” Sera said. “There’s a thought. When this is all over, we need to run for something. Make a change.”
Reid shrugged. “Or you could just talk to Gladiolas about it. See if she can help.”
I snapped my fingers. The scrap of lint drifted to the floor. “That’s an even better idea. I need to track her down and see if I can fix all this somehow. Okay, I’ve got that marked down on my to-do list. Talk to Gladiolas.”
Deciding I needed to work with something a bit more interesting, I picked up a water bottle next me. I poured out a small amount, using my magic to keep it suspended in the air. Then I worked it back and forth, making sure not to lose
any of it.
Sera formed a small orb of fire. It lifted up to the ceiling, coming just short of touching the stone. It floated back down. “Just don’t get Roman in trouble.”
“Why would I get Roman in trouble?”
She shrugged. “Well, you know—you. You have a knack for that sort of thing.”
“I resent that.”
Reid wrapped her now crocheted scarf around her neck. “Resent it all you want; you know it’s the truth.”
“Thank you, peanut gallery.”
“I’m not a peanut.”
“You are now.”
She jutted out her hip in truly defiant eighteen-year-old fashion and said, “I wouldn’t be calling me a peanut. If you’re going to call anyone a peanut, it should be that guy who hissed at you yesterday.”
I shook my head. Dark tendrils of hair fell into my face. I brushed them back. “Why would I call him a peanut? More like psycho if you ask me.”
“I don’t think I’d call him that to his face,” Reid said.
“Of course not. Why would I do that?”
She clicked her tongue. “’Cause he’s standing right behind you.”
I turned around and saw Taylor Cobblestone less than three inches from me. He flashed Reid a seductive smile; then he dragged his gaze back to me and said, “Boo!”
I shrieked, throwing up my hands.
I don’t know what happened then. The small bit of water I was working with suddenly magnified. Like my power enlarged the amount of it somehow.
I glanced up and watched in disbelief as the tablespoon of water grew into a gallon, then to a teeny gallon aquarium. By the time it reached the ceiling, it covered the entire area.
My mouth fell in horror as the water descended back down on us. It didn’t come down in a trickle of rain. No, it came in a torrent. It hit me hard, sending me down on my knees. The pressure of the liquid on my back felt like the worst busted back dive I’d ever done. My entire body stung from the impact.
Then the shrieking started. I blinked my eyes open and rose. Every witch in the room was soaked to the bone. Their magic had evaporated, and all of them were glaring at me with slitty eyes of death.
