Halfway Hexed

by Kimberly Frost

  “When someone shows you proof, you’ll still refuse to see it.” He closed his eyes and licked his lips. “Blinded by love. A story as old as magic. I know it too well.” Mr. Barrett’s head plunked down on the table.

  I took a couple of breaths, shivering at what he’d said. “Sure it’s an old stair well—story. People want love to work out. Why wouldn’t they? What’s better than love? Nothing, that’s what.” I rubbed my throat, not able to keep myself from talking. “Truth serum. You poisoned me, too, didn’t you?” I ran a hand through my hair, my scalp damp with sweat. “It’s wrong for you to look so much like Santa Claus. He’d never poison his elves. Or his reindeer. Or the people who live in the houses he visits.” My head buzzed, and I stumbled from the chair.

  The fish on the wallpaper seemed to swish toward the stripes. I picked up the phone and called the front desk. “Hello?”

  “Yes, can I help you?”

  “I like fish and all, but don’t you think you’ve gone a bit far with it? Wallpaper, plus bedspreads, plus tablecloths? It’s too much.” I hung up. Several catfish flopped off the wall while others swam around the light and then dove toward my head. “Don’t get too rowdy, you fishes. Stop that swimming off the wallpaper. I have a gun, you know.”

  I tripped, over my foot I think, and landed hard on the carpet. I stared at the file boxes.

  “I came here for you,” I murmured. “That’s why I brought him tea. I don’t like him. I don’t trust him. He’s dangerous. Right now he’s sleeping,” I babbled. I pulled out the boxes. They were locked, of course, but I dug through John Barrett’s pockets and found several small keys. “You Conclave types are always underestimating me. That’s your big mistake.” I unlocked the boxes and pulled out the files.

  The letters swam before me. “Just you stop that moving. You’re not fish. You don’t have fins. It’s one thing for the wallpaper to dance around, but letters are supposed to stay still.”

  I dumped the boxes out and, in the box that had been under two others, I found a small velvet case. I opened it, and there she was.

  “Here you are, Nassandra. Cassandra. Bryn’s mom.”

  There was a sharp rap on the door.

  “John?” a voice called.

  “Oh no!” I whispered. “Somebody’s here.” I closed the cover on the brooch and clutched it tighter. “Sounds like the winner-hawk.”

  “John, open the door.”

  "He can’t. He’s asleep!” I called. "Well, he’s drugged asleep.” I giggled. "Gotcha,” I said, giving John Barrett a pinch as I stood up. I staggered into the bathroom, slamming the door closed. I locked the door as I heard the front door banging open.

  "Probably picked the lock. Standard spy stuff.” I unlocked the bathroom window and shoved it open. “I’d like to pick locks. Not all locks. Not wanting to be a spy or anything.”

  The bathroom door rattled.

  I cocked my head. The window was really too small for me unless I could turn myself into a pixie or something. Only I didn’t know how.

  "Shh. Be very quiet.” I stepped into the shower and closed the curtain.

  A moment later the door opened. I heard her pass the tub, and I couldn’t stay quiet. I yanked the curtain back.

  "I’m here,” I announced.

  She spun very quickly, but not quickly enough for her to stop me from running into her when I tripped on the tub’s lip. We crashed to the floor, my knees slamming the tile and searing with pain.

  "Sorry. Sorry about that.” I got up with throbbing knees and ran from the room, banging into the bed and then the door frame as I fled.

  Something struck my back and knocked me down. I scrambled to my feet, ran around the corner of the building, and dashed into the woods.

  I heard footfalls. She would catch up. She would get me!

  "Help me, tree,” I called, running straight for a trunk. I couldn’t stop. I closed my eyes, expecting an impact, but it didn’t come. Someone grabbed my waist and pulled me off the ground.

  I was too scared to move or open my eyes. Was it the kidnapper? Scarface? I had to know. In the distance, I heard crunching leaves. I was lying on something hard and narrow. I couldn’t figure that out. What was happening?

  I opened my eyes and a thick layer of fog was all around me. So was a thick tree branch. The tree had picked me up.

  “She’ll never find me up here,” I whispered with a smile, patting the branch. “Never.”

  I turned my head from side to side and spotted a small salmon-pink light. A firefly? A dancing bug?

  The light landed on my nose. The blurred image was hard to focus on, but I saw a silvery figure with green speckled wings. I also heard a very high-pitched voice, almost unrecognizable. Faery. A tiny one.

  “I’m one of you,” I whispered. “It’s how come I can talk to the trees sometimes.” Then I told her all about my life, from as far back as I could remember.

  Chapter 27

  The overwhelming buzz wore off, but I knew I wasn’t back to normal, and I was terrified of climbing down the forty feet to the ground. I marveled at the fact that a tree had swept me up at my request. I couldn’t normally communicate with the plants and trees, but sometimes the fae in me seemed to rise up and communicate. Mostly when something disrupted my ability to think. Get me drunk or bespelled, and I can do Scary Faery with the best of them.

  I had no idea how much time had passed. Was John Barrett awake? Were he and the Winterhawk looking for me? Had the police come? The need to talk burned in my throat. I wanted to call the police and report the murder. I wanted to make a statement about everything that had happened and was still happening around town, but at least a part of me knew that that would be a disaster, so I whispered a statement under my breath.

  I tucked the velvet brooch case into my bra to secure it and then began to climb down. Stretching my foot made the wound in my foot hurt. I muttered in annoyance, but didn’t slow.

  I was almost to the ground when I realized with a start that I could see it. The fog had lifted. It was still overcast, like there’d been rain, but it wasn’t black-as-night out. I wondered if that was because the magic had dissipated when I knocked out John Barrett or if Bryn had done a spell to make it happen.

  I hobbled through the wooded area to the street where I’d parked. I held my breath until I saw my car. Banged up, but still there. I hurried to it and got in. Just as I put the key in the ignition, I heard a child crying. I looked around. Where had it come from?

  I started the car and rolled down my windows. I wasn’t very far from the school.

  "Which way? Which way?” I whispered. Another high-pitched cry that chilled me worse than the wind. I swung the wheel and turned toward where I thought the sound had come from. Vines swayed in the breeze, like they were beckoning me west.

  "This way,” I murmured, inexplicably drawn. Straight, left, then left again.

  I spotted a flash of a blue sweater moving behind a circle of lawn furniture in the deserted corner of a yard on a dead-end street. I parked my car and climbed out, hurrying over. There were six little girls, probably kindergartners, huddling under a plastic table.

  I bent down.

  "Hi.” I pushed my hair over my shoulder. “Hi there. What happened?”

  "We got lost,” a little blond girl said.

  Another girl with very mussed brown hair and big eyes sniffled as tears spilled down her pudgy cheeks.

  "We were walking in a chain, and she let go!” a dark-haired girl said, pointing at a wide-eyed little girl with a short brown bob. I cocked my head. I knew her. She was from my neighborhood. Paige.

  "Hi, Miss Tammy,” Paige whispered.

  “Mrs. Beech is gonna be so mad,” the dark-haired girl said.

  “No, she won’t. She’ll be glad you’re okay,” I said. “She probably feels guilty. Who takes a whole bunch of five-year-olds out for a walk in the pitch dark? I mean I might’ve last week when I was faeryfied.” I clamped my lips closed.

  Be quiet.
Be careful what you say!

  “Come on. I’ll take you back to school,” I said.

  “I’m not going with you. You’re a stranger,” the dark-haired girl said.

  “I don’t blame you,” I said. “It’s good to be careful. But Paige knows me. C’mon,” I said, holding out a hand to the crying girl. She crawled to me, and I picked her up. “When I was little, I went to your school. Did you know that?”

  I chatted on about my time in kindergarten, and they all decided to follow me. I put them in the backseat, buckling them in as best I could. It was only a couple blocks away.

  I started the car and drove around the corner. Then I spotted Jenna’s Lexus coming down the block.

  “Not again!”

  Six little heads jerked to look out the back window.

  “They’re after me,” I said, and then gasped, realizing that Jenna might ram my car again while the backseat was full of little girls. I pulled over sharply. “Everything’s going to be okay. I think. I hope. Well, I don’t want you to worry. Just stay in the car.”

  I climbed out and walked a few feet past my trunk and onto the sidewalk. Jenna needed to pull over and park. Then we could talk woman to witch, like normal people. I placed my feet shoulder-width apart and put my fists on my hips in a way I hoped was imposing.

  Jenna revved her engine and drove straight for me.

  She couldn’t be thinking of hopping the curb. She’d bust a tire and crack her axle, or at the very least, mess up her alignment. Plus, her insurance company was sure to have a policy against running over pedestrians.

  Jenna didn’t slow down. I stood my ground nervously.

  The little girls screamed, and the car barreled toward me. I dove out of the way just seconds before the car rammed the curb and jerked over the sidewalk and onto the grass.

  I got up and dusted myself off as Jenna and Lucy got out of the car. Lucy had a length of rope, and, oh my gosh, Jenna had a rifle.

  She’s a danger with that gun

  Take it from her, number one!

  I yanked off my boots and socks as I backed up, repeating the incantation. My bare feet touched the grass and I dragged my foot across a tree root, hissing for a moment at the pain as the bandage was wrenched off and the wound reopened.

  My blood trickled into the earth.

  She’s a danger with that gun.

  Take it from her. Number One.

  A tree limb swished down, knocking into Jenna’s side. She fell and the gun flew out of her hands when she landed. I heard the girls gasp.

  “Close your eyes,” I said, covering my eyes for a second to illustrate. “Close them. I don’t want you watching.”

  “We didn’t want to resort to weapons,” Lucy said. “Especially after Mindy’s people got so carried away. They took things too far at City Hall. We never expected that. Mindy’s out of the group. But you’re sure a gun-toting little miss these days, Tammy Jo, and we have to fight fire with fire.”

  Jenna reached toward the gun, but the branch whizzed toward the ground, and she had to roll away to keep from getting smacked.

  “She’s doing it! Did you see that! It’s proof!” Jenna screamed, getting to her feet.

  Lucy started quoting scripture in a ready-to-rumble voice that sounded like she was about to begin a WWF bout.

  "We want you out of this town!” Jenna screeched, rushing toward me.

  I put my hands out in front of me, wincing. Without time to think, I just spewed out a spell.

  You’re dangerous and full of gall

  Bottle that rage and make it small.

  Jenna disappeared. One minute, she was about to crash into me. The next . . . gone.

  My jaw dropped open. The little girls in my car cheered. Lucy trailed off, staring at the spot where Jenna had been.

  "Where is she? What have you done with her?” Lucy demanded.

  "I—I don’t know.” I looked around. “She’s probably around here somewhere. I don’t think I disintegrated her or anything. Pretty sure I didn’t.”

  "You bring her back. You bring her back right now!”

  "I don’t even know where she is. I’m sure she’ll turn up though,” I said, walking to the rifle. I cocked it open and removed the live shells, then tossed the gun back down. I went to the Lexus and checked the ignition. The keys must’ve been Jenna’s spare set.

  "I’ll throw these out the window when I get to the end of the block. Don’t follow me or I’ll have to do a spell on you.” I clamped a hand over my mouth. Don’t tell her that! Don’t admit anything!

  I grabbed my socks and boots and hustled back to the car. When I opened the door, the little girls smiled and clapped. I tossed my boots onto the passenger seat and got in.

  "Told you she was magic,” Paige said.

  "Will you teach us some magic, Witch Tammy?” the dark-haired girl asked.

  "Oh, no. That’s—”

  "She’s not a witch. She’s a faery princess!” Paige exclaimed. "Will you show us your pointed ears, Princess Tammy?”

  "Oh, honey, I’m not royalty. Princesses don’t wear cowboy boots or carry pistols or disintegrate their enemies.”

  "What do princesses do?”

  "Do?” Did they really do anything? I ran through the fairy princesses. Snow White. Gets poisoned and rescued. Sleeping beauty. Gets poisoned and rescued. Cinderella. Gets locked up on the night of the ball and gets rescued. “Well, they wear fancy dresses, and people admire them for their beauty and poise. They’re kind of like supermodels. Real nice to look at, but not doing too much real work once they become princesses. Being pretty is their job, I guess.”

  "Well, you’re pretty,” Paige said, and they all agreed.

  "You’re pretty and you cast spells! That rocks.”

  "And sure you’re going to have cowboy boots. You’re from Texas! Maybe you should get pink cowboy boots.”

  "With pink glitter!”

  "And a pink wand!”

  "That spark les!”

  "Magic wands are for wimps. The best witches don’t need them, Bryn told me.” I bit my tongue. Literally. I had to stop talking! The last thing they needed was encouragement or to learn secrets about real witches and wizards. Stupid truth serum. How was I supposed to keep a low profile when I kept having to blurt out the darned truth all the time?

  "No wands? Not even just to go with your outfit?” the blond girl asked.

  "Hey, look, here’s the school.”

  "We don’t have to go back right now,” the dark-haired girl said. “We could stay with you.”

  "Yes. We want to!” Paige said.

  "Maybe another day.” When I’m not being hunted all over town, or stuck with the truth as my only conversational option. “Mrs. Beech must be real worried,” I said, getting out.

  A chorus of chirpy arguments rose from the backseat.

  "C’mon now. I could get in a lot of trouble for not returning you. You wouldn’t want that when I’ve got bad wizards to fight.”

  "Bad wizards,” they gasped.

  I tugged them out of the car.

  "Yes, it’s a secret. Can I trust you?” I asked.

  They all nodded and crossed their little hearts. I smiled and gave them each a kiss on the top of the head. “Go on now. And remember it’s our secret!”

  When they were safe inside, I leaned up against my car and cupped my forehead in my hand for a few seconds. Poisoning people and making other people disappear was tiring as all get-out.

  I put on my socks and boots before I drove back to Bryn’s. I turned into my parking spot a little too fast, fishtailing. I patted the car in apology.

  "Hi, Mr. Jenson!” I called when I went into the cottage.

  "Miss Tamara,” Mr. Jenson said, coming out of the kitchen. He put his finger to his lips to quiet me down.

  "Sorry. I’ve just had the craziest morning. I got in a poisoning contest with the leader of the World Association of Magic and I’m pretty sure I won! A lso—”

  "There’s a situation
,” he said gravely.

  "Another one?” I asked, heaving a sigh. “Bigger than me drugging John Barrett?”

  I followed him into the kitchen where Bryn was talking quietly into the phone. I sat down next to him, fidgeting in my chair until he finally hung up.

  "Well?” I demanded. “What’s happening?”

  "Andre’s missing.”

  "Wasn’t he trying to be missing? He said—”

  "Apparently, he was on his way here. Even though we agreed that he wouldn’t come.” Bryn rapped his knuckles on the table. “I told him not to.”

  “Well, you’re not the boss of everyone. Maybe he wanted to help you. That’s what friends do. Wouldn’t you want to help him if he was in trouble? I’d help Georgia Sue. Or Johnny. Or you. Or Zach or Mercutio. Or Mr. Jenson or Steve—”

  “Miss Tamara,” Mr. Jenson interrupted. Bryn was staring at me like I’d lost my mind, which was halfway true.

  “Sorry. I tangled with John Barrett, and, even though I won, I’m not quite myself. You were right about him being sneaky.”

  “You saw Barrett? Where?”

  “At the hotel. Andre wasn’t there, by the way, so Barrett doesn’t have him, if that’s what you’re wondering. Also, I don’t think Andre was tied up in Mrs. Thornton’s room since she came chasing after me. Would she leave a prisoner tied up in a hotel room with flimsy walls and doors? The Duvall Motor Inn’s not exactly a secure holding place for kidnap victims. Although dead bodies can apparently lie around there for hours and hours without anybody finding them. It’s ridiculous! Not that I’m saying that Andre’s dead. I’m sure—well, I sure hope he’s not.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Bryn said calmly.

  My explanation was a bit scattered, and Bryn seemed more than a little impatient until I reached into my shirt and came out with the velvet box. When I opened it, he paled.

  “I know that brooch.”