Y'all Witches

by Amy Boyles

  Grandma shot her a toothy grin. “Yes, tell me about him.”

  Maria’s lips quivered. “There is much love there, much love. I see promises and possibilities.”

  Grandma fisted her free hand. “I knew it. He’s the one.”

  Maria’s chest ballooned. Her eyes rolled back. “He is a man of many faces, a man willing to give and share. He is full of love and grace. A wonderful companion, ready to give anything to the one he loves.”

  “See, Dylan? Love can happen at any time.”

  “You only just met him.”

  “But even the psychic agrees that we’re meant to be.”

  The whites of Maria’s eyes rolled back down, and she snapped out of her trance with a jerk. “I saw so much, but there was more. Something I couldn’t see. The end. I couldn’t see what it was, but it was important.”

  Fear filled Grandma’s voice. “What is it? I must know. My love awaits.”

  “Oh jeez,” I said.

  Maria nodded. “Let me see. The palm is not always the most accurate. Sometimes I need the crystal ball. I haven’t used it since I told your fortune. Let me get it.”

  Maria dug beneath the table and retrieved a box. She pulled off the lid and gasped.

  The lid bobbed, and I got a clear view of the crystal ball.

  Dried, crusted blood soaked one side. Bits of white and pink matter clung to the surface. My stomach turned.

  “Ah,” Maria yelled, shrinking away.

  I nearly hurled onto the table as Grandma glanced over my shoulder. “Well, looks like we found the murder weapon that was used to kill Griselda. Better call the coppers in.” She glanced at Maria. “I’m pretty sure they’re going to want to talk to you, my dear. You’d better stay right where you are.”

  SEVEN

  Maria lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “Please. I didn’t do it. I don’t know what this is doing here.”

  I unhooked her fingers and said, “The detectives will figure this whole thing out. We’ll wait for them.”

  “But don’t you see,” she said. “They’ll arrest me. They’ll think I did it because of my sweet little Lillian.”

  I smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure they’ll listen and believe you. I mean, why would you be stupid enough to plant the murder weapon where we could find it?”

  Grandma leaned over, shielding her mouth with her hand so that Maria couldn’t hear. “So that we’d think she was innocent. Because the real killer would only plant the weapon to make themselves look guilty so we wouldn’t think they were guilty, because that would be too obvious.”

  Okay. Right. Whatever that meant.

  “Please,” Maria said again. “It wasn’t me. If they find this, they’ll take me away. Who’s going to give a gypsy a fair trial against someone with all the money in the world, like Griselda had? Who would do that? No one.” Tears bubbled in her eyes. “You must help me. For my daughter, if not for me.”

  The look of terror in her eyes sent a shard of sympathy straight to my heart. What was I supposed to do?

  Here were the facts: it made no sense for Maria to hide the murder weapon under her own table. The most logical thing to do would have been for the killer to throw the evidence overboard. Obviously.

  Not that I was starting to think like a killer or anything. But seriously, if y’all had committed a murder aboard a ship and wanted to dispose of the weapon, I can count on one finger the best solution in getting rid of that problem.

  Off the ship—or airship in this case.

  Fact number two: Maria was probably correct in her assumption that no one would give a rat’s behind about her. It was poor gypsy against big money. Who would be the winner?

  Big money would win and Maria would burn.

  Which brought me to my next thought—what was I going to do about it?

  I wasn’t supposed to get involved. I’d made a promise. In fact, I’d made several promises about that whole deal.

  Other folk’s business was supposed to stay theirs. I was to stay way far away from all of it.

  But there was something about this woman that tugged at my heart. Pulled at me. Made me feel like she needed help and I could do things for her.

  What things, I didn’t know. But I could start here.

  “I’m not sure how I can help.”

  “Hide me,” she said. “Hide me where they can’t find me.”

  My heart sank. “This is a ship. They’ll go door-to-door looking for you. I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

  Grandma stepped between us. “She can stay with me.”

  Great. Because that was an awesome plan.

  Grandma was a stowaway. Now we’d have someone evading the law bunking with her. Clearly this wasn’t only a disaster waiting to happen, it was the four riders of the apocalypse waiting to happen.

  It was a horrible, horrible idea.

  People were starting to mill around us, see what was going on. A woman shrieked and fainted at the sight of the gore-crusted skull.

  To be honest, I didn’t blame her.

  “Someone call the detective,” a man shouted.

  Voices rose, covering mine. I had to shout to be heard. “It’s now or never,” I said. “Are you taking Maria with you?”

  “And my daughter,” Maria said. “Lillian must come with us.”

  I turned to Grandma. “If you get caught, I’m pretty sure your fate will be worse than walking the plank. I don’t know how much worse, but it’ll be bad. Are you prepared for that?”

  Grandma saluted me. “I’m prepared for anything, Dylan. You should know that by now.”

  As the crowd surged and the faces turned from curious to slowly realizing that Maria could be a cold-blooded killer, I felt the tension thicken like ozone after a rain.

  I grabbed Maria’s hand. “Come on.”

  “Lillian,” she said.

  Maria broke free and raced to a corner of the room where Lillian played cards with another child. Maria grabbed the girl by the arm. The cards exploded into the air.

  “Watch this,” Grandma said.

  The cards swam the room’s current, weaving in and out of the crowd. The rectangular shapes grew, elongating until they were as large as bedsheets. The cards wrapped around the crowd, effectively cutting them off from reaching us.

  “Now,” Grandma said.

  Maria, Lillian, Grandma and I made a break for it. We raced through the crowd while they struggled and clawed at the cards. We ducked and wove, sprinted and jumped until we were outside the carnival room.

  “Whew, that was close,” I said.

  “I’ll say,” came a voice from in front of me.

  I glanced up. My gaze settled on a man with a nose much longer than average and carrying a net about the size of a large-screen flat television. Simon Sniff, the stowaway detector, stood between me and freedom.

  EIGHT

  “I smell a stowaway,” Sniff said.

  My heart literally stopped beating in my body. I’m pretty sure all blood pooled at my feet and rigor mortis set in.

  I’m not kidding. I stood before Sniff as he ran his nose down one side of my body and up the other. His beady eyes shifted right and left.

  “Smells like it could be you. Sort of like roses and marshmallows, but it’s not quite right.” He tapped one nostril and shifted his gaze over.

  To where Grandma stood.

  I took a deep breath of air. This was it. The jig was up. Grandma would be forced to walk the plank, Maria would be sent to prison and I’d probably be right behind her for harboring a stowaway, cavorting with a fugitive and for simply being me, so it seemed.

  Sniff’s eyes twinkled as they settled on Grandma. He did his weird little prance, lacing one foot over the other and back again as he raked his net through the air.

  “Now who’s the stowaway?”

  My heart jumped in my mouth. Sweat poured from my forehead. It was over. All of it.

  My life with Roman. Heck, we’d only been married for a few days a
nd it was now gone. Poof! Up in smoke. All it took was a little beady-eyed dancer and my grandma.

  Figured Grandma would be involved.

  As Sniff extended his nose toward her, the deck of cards shuffled through the doorway and knocked him to the ground.

  I grabbed Grandma’s arm. “Let’s go.”

  We raced to the staircase and took it to our deck, where the four of us plowed into Grandma’s cabin. I slammed the door shut and barred my back across it. My chest heaved, my heart roared and my skin was all clammy and gross.

  I needed another shower.

  We watched each other in silence.

  “You’re welcome to stay here,” Grandma said to Maria. “I’m sure by now they’ve found the murder weapon and will be looking for you. Help yourselves to anything you want. I’ll bring back food from dinner.” Grandma fluffed her scarf. “I’d love to stay and chat, but Dylan and I have dinner plans.”

  I sniffed my armpits. A sharp, musty scent drifted up my nostrils. “No way am I going out to eat. First, I need another shower. Second, Sniff is on to us. He’ll be searching high and low for the two of us.”

  Grandma shrugged. “Dylan, you’ve got to live a little. That Sniff fellow will be looking for Maria and her girl. He won’t be interested in us in the least. Besides, we need to relax for a few minutes, figure out how to keep these two safe when they do room sweeps. Maybe Roman will have an answer.”

  I fisted my hands. “Are you kidding? Roman’s going to kill me if he finds out about this. He might kill you, too, since this is all your fault.”

  Grandma cleared her throat. “We have guests, remember?”

  I glanced at Maria and Lillian. “I’m sorry. Of course. Please, relax. We’ll help y’all however we can, but they’ll be looking for you and we’ve got to come up with a plan when that happens.” I shot Grandma a dark look. “And I also need a plan for dinner. Because no matter what you say, I’m sure Sniff will be searching for the two of us.”

  Grandma snapped her fingers. “I’ve got just the thing. Wait and see.”

  “So tell me why again you’re bringing a fan to dinner?”

  I glanced at Roman from behind a curve of black lace. I flicked the fan quickly as if cooling myself. “It’s Southern belle night at the all-you-can-eat crab buffet. It’s a whole thing. Grandma’s going this way, too, and we’re meeting up with her and Alistair.”

  Roman scrunched up his eyes and quirked his mouth as if he didn’t believe me, so I shot him my brightest, biggest smile.

  “That’s fake,” he said. “What’s really going on?”

  “Why, Roman,” I said, feigning the fattest accent I could, “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe me. I am a lady of means, for goodness’ sake, and if I say it’s Southern belle night at the crab fest, I don’t rightly understand why you wouldn’t believe me.”

  He pointed at me. “That’s why. That fake accent. Well, whatever. Come on. Let’s go eat some crab and dip it in clarified butter. Sounds like heaven, if you ask me.”

  I slipped a hand through the crook of his arm and lifted my fan to my nose. I rolled my eyes as I put Grandma’s grand plan into play.

  This was it. Hide behind a lace fan. That way, if Sniff did show up, he wouldn’t recognize us.

  I’d almost suggested a glamour, but there was no way to shift our appearances without causing suspicion, or at least raising questions.

  Let’s face it, Roman would know something crazy was up if I appeared at dinner looking like a completely different person.

  So hiding behind fans was it.

  We settled down at a table with Grandma and Alistair and made introductions. Alistair leaned over to Grandma and traced a finger over her fan.

  “What a wonderful thing to keep with you. You are a true lady, Hazel.”

  She shot him that toothy grin of hers. You know, the sort of grin where you just smile so widely that you look stupid. Usually the beaming kind where love was involved. Yeah, that’s the look she had on her face.

  “Alistair, I hear you’re an inventor of sorts,” Roman said.

  Alistair blinked his attention to us. “I am. I’ve patented over two hundred inventions and hope to patent at least two hundred more before my time’s done here. But you know,” he said, turning toward my grandmother. “My attention could change, though. With the right distraction.”

  Grandma giggled as he tweaked her chin. “Your grandmother is quite the woman, Dylan.”

  “So I hear,” I said, smirking.

  “Yes,” Alistair said, “you’re going to love Celestial Island. It has beaches, shopping, games, shows, everything you’d ever want. I’ve made this trip dozens of times, and I always find it a specular place to visit. And,” he said, lifting a finger, “you can only reach it by airship, which is what makes it truly special.”

  “We’re excited,” I said, squeezing Roman’s hand. “Really excited about it. I had no idea the place existed until now.”

  “Yes,” Alistair said, “the island itself used to be a stronghold for pirates. They would bury stolen treasure on it; at least that’s what the rumors say. If there is any, I’ve never found it.”

  “Is that why you made that eye,” I said.

  Alistair’s easy glance flickered hard for half a second. Then his face relaxed. “The eye? Oh no, there are other needs for that. For one, the police could use it in their searches. It is still a prototype but very useful.”

  “Eye?” Roman said, throwing me a questioning look.

  Alistair fished it from his pocket and handed it to Roman. “Here. It allows you to see through solid substances, though I haven’t tried every substance yet. There may be some that are impervious to it. Try it out and see.”

  Roman placed it on the table and pressed his own eye to it. “That’s pretty neat. It can see through wood. That’s a start.”

  “Have you ever looked for buried treasure?” I said to Alistair.

  Grandma flapped a hand at me. “Now why would he need to look for treasure when he has me?”

  Alistair wrapped an arm around her and said, “My little turtledove, that’s exactly right. I don’t need anything else when I’ve got you.”

  They rubbed noses, giving each other politically incorrectly named Eskimo kisses, and drowned in each other’s eyes until I cleared my throat loudly enough for the entire dining room to hear.

  Alistair coughed into his hand. “But as to your question, I might have searched once or twice in my youth for a treasure, but I gave all that up years ago. That’s a young man’s game. It’s not one for the likes of me. I’m much too old to go gallivanting off. But they do have a buried treasure trail on Celestial Island. You’ll want to take it. It’s a lot of fun. At least from what I hear.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I nodded to Roman as if that’s what I thought we should spend our time doing tomorrow. “And what about the illegitimate child of Griselda’s?” I said. “How do you know about that?”

  “You’re certainly asking a lot of questions today,” Roman mumbled.

  “Just making polite dinner conversation,” I murmured.

  “Illegitimate children are not polite conversation,” he whispered. “Animals and children are, but not the kind born out of wedlock.”

  I flashed him a tight, wide smile and said, “Just looking for information.”

  “I thought you were staying out of it.”

  A low growl rumbled in the back of my throat.

  “Are you growling at me?” Roman said.

  “Maybe.”

  He smirked but didn’t say anything else.

  “I knew Griselda most of my life,” Alistair said. “We grew up in the same circle of people. When she was about twenty or so she went away for an extended time on a trip with an aunt. In those days when you went away, you either did so to see the world or have a child. There were rumors of the child at that time, but none ever substantiated.”

  Alistair picked at a lobster tail. “It only came to my attention about
the child being on board because Griselda once made a comment to me about it.”

  My ears nearly burned fire to know what that comment was. Alistair paused, forking into the fluffy tail. He snapped off a hunk and popped it in his mouth. He chewed, his eyes taking on a dreamy look while I waited, nearly bursting to know what Griselda had said.

  When he finally finished chewing, I politely prodded. “So she mentioned something about the child?”

  “Oh yes, she did.” Alistair ran a hand over his thin white hair. “Griselda confided in me that years ago she had given birth. She hadn’t kept up with the child as it grew, but the adoptive parents knew who Griselda was and they updated her on the child’s well-being and growth.

  “When the child came of age, the parents did explain that Griselda was the birth mother.” He paused, rubbing his fingers together. “From what I understand the child spent years tracking her down. Years. It’s not an easy thing to find someone like Griselda and then get near her. But it was managed. Of course, by this time they were fully grown.”

  “But what did they want? To become friends with her?”

  Grandma laughed. “That wasn’t likely. Griselda didn’t strike me as someone having many friends.” She rubbed Alistair’s shoulders. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “Griselda wasn’t a friendly person. She was cold, to be fair,” Alistair said. “Anyway, she told me she met the child. They had a tight, somewhat tenuous relationship. They would see each other from time to time and were friendly enough, from what I understand, but then their relationship took a turn.”

  My eyes flared and my fingers twitched. Oh, this was going to be good, I could tell.

  Roman rose. “I’m going to grab some dessert. Anyone want anything?”

  “No thanks,” I said absently. I glanced up at him and caught him spearing me with a dark look. I swallowed the knot in my throat. I knew what he was thinking—that I was breaking my promise not to get involved.

  Boy, he couldn’t be more wrong about that, could he? If he knew who Grandma was hiding, he’d hit the roof.

  He left the table, and I turned to Alistair. “How did their relationship take a turn? Griselda’s and the child.”