Y'all Witches

by Amy Boyles

  Roman exited the cabin.

  My world plummeted to my feet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Roman was supposed to grab me in his arms, tell me I was being silly. I’d agree and we’d both laugh about it later.

  He wasn’t supposed to storm out and leave me alone in our honeymoon suite.

  I followed him. “Roman, wait.”

  He stopped. Turned around slowly. “You need to think about things for a little while. So do I.”

  He strolled off, leaving me standing in the middle of the hall, confused and angry. I’d lost two people that day—Roman and my grandmother.

  And I’d lost them both in a span of ten minutes.

  SIXTEEN

  I was alone that night, wondering, thinking, delving into the delusions of my brain to see what and where I had gone wrong.

  It had probably started at the beginning, really.

  Let’s face it. Part of me wanted to say that Roman was wrong, that I wasn’t a spoiled princess, but certain things were pointing to the fact that he might actually be right.

  My brand-new husband suggested I stay out of things, advice I completely ignored. Like, about every chance I got.

  There were no two ways to Sunday—I basically went out of my way to stick my nose in other people’s business, and when Roman tried to pull me away, I blamed him for not wanting to be the same way that I was.

  Didn’t really make a lot of sense, did it? These were things I knew. I mean, I married Roman knowing that he was the butter to my sliced bread. He was the part of the two of us that made sense, looked at things in a rational way and kept me from doing things that were incredibly stupid.

  It turned out I liked doing things that were incredibly stupid.

  Which is I guess how I found myself on deck at midnight. It was quiet except for the insects buzzing around the ship from Celestial Island.

  A large flying insect that looked like a dragonfly flittered around my head. The end of its tail glowed like a lightning bug. It soared and sailed, diving around me. I reached out my hand, and the creature alighted on my finger.

  “Oh little guy, how easy you have it.”

  But that wasn’t true, was it? This little guy had to look for food, avoid predators and stay alive. Compared to my life, his was complicated. Much more so than mine.

  “Beautiful night,” came a voice from beside me.

  I glanced over and saw Annie, Griselda’s assistant, leaning over the rail.

  “It is,” I said. “How’re you doing?”

  She shrugged. “How am I supposed to be doing? Griselda’s family has been notified of her death. Arrangements are being made, and the killer is still hiding somewhere on this ship.”

  I frowned. “Do you think it was Maria? Really?”

  Annie flicked long brown hair from her face. “Who else would it have been?”

  I bit down on my lip. There were questions I wanted to ask and promises about butting out that flitted in my brain.

  But what the heck, you only live once, right? And I might not get a second chance to ask.

  “I heard that Griselda had an illegitimate child.”

  Annie glared at me. I could see the war going on inside her. She wanted to protect Griselda, but Griselda was now dead.

  She nodded. “There was a child.”

  I leaned in closer. “I heard the child was on board the Majestic, and that this same person was blackmailing Griselda.”

  Annie scoffed. “Not as far as I knew. The child is on board the airship, but Griselda never told me who it was. And as for being blackmailed, I don’t know anything about that.”

  Had Alistair been lying or did he simply have his facts wrong?

  I tapped the railing, trying to figure out the best way to needle more info from her. “I met Alistair Krause. He was a friend of Griselda’s, right?”

  Annie shrugged. “The depths of their relationship are theirs alone. But in the end they had a falling out.”

  “What?”

  Annie nodded. “From what I understand. They were very close, business partners for a while, but eventually that dissolved.”

  Something in Annie’s tone suggested more than friends. “How close is very close?”

  Annie leaned over; then she reeled back. “I shouldn’t be saying any of this.”

  I touched her hand. “It won’t go any farther than the two of us.”

  Annie pulled a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. I waited until it was over. “Griselda once told me they were lovers. This was years ago.”

  “Before there were any Mrs. Krauses?”

  Annie laughed. “You’ve heard about them, huh? Yeah, Alistair’s had a lot of wives. A lot. But I don’t think he would’ve harmed any of them.” Annie looked at me for a long, long moment and said, “You look like you could use some cheering up. Could you?”

  It was my turn to laugh, except this time I did so bitterly. “Yeah, I could. Why?”

  “Whenever I need cheering up, there’s one thing that always does it.”

  “What’s that?”

  Annie wiggled her eyebrows. “Trying on mink.”

  Okay, so not everyone likes fur coats, or likes even thinking about animals in that way. I’m going to admit to you right now that I’ve never once in my life owned a mink anything, but I sure as heck have always wanted to try one on.

  I followed Annie back to the cabin, because let’s face it, even though it wasn’t retail therapy, trying on clothes was a close second.

  I gave Fifi a friendly pat and gaped at Griselda’s closet full of furs. Like, there were probably ten coats of all different shades.

  Annie tossed one at me. “Try it on.”

  “Should you be throwing that?” I said.

  She shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  So I did. I can’t describe the depth of warmth the fur offered. It was rich, amazing. “Oh wow,” I said, skimming my palm over the inky, velvety fur. “This is wonderful.”

  Annie tried on a stole. “I like the smaller ones.”

  I pulled the fur off and went for a deep red. “This is cozy, too.”

  Annie put on a fake aristocratic accent. “Yes, darling, it is.”

  I laughed at her. For a woman who’d just lost someone very important to her, she was handling it better than I would have.

  I twirled in the mirror, looking left and right. “Thank you for bringing me in here. I really appreciate it. There’s nothing like clothes therapy to soothe the soul.”

  Annie leaned against a wall. “Someone might as well enjoy this, because Griselda won’t be anymore.”

  She pointed to an ermine wrap. “This is what she was wearing the night she died.”

  I picked it up and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s gorgeous.”

  As I was tugging it off, I noticed a pocket sewn into it. A slip of paper was jutting out. “What’s this?” I said, not thinking anything of it.

  I pulled out the paper. “Do you want this?”

  Annie shook her head. “It’s probably just a list of things for me to do.”

  I unfolded the slip. My eyes skimmed it from top to bottom. “Oh no, that’s not what this is at all.”

  Annie frowned and walked over. “What is it?”

  Cold fear struck me as I reached the very bottom.

  “Read it,” Annie said.

  I cleared my throat.

  “‘Griselda, you’ve failed to live up to your end of the bargain. The world will know your child and know that you hid from them. You have until the end of today to pay or else.’”

  “Is it signed?” Annie asked.

  I nodded. “It sure is.”

  “By whom?”

  An invisible hand squeezed my heart as I said, “It’s signed ‘the Raven.’”

  “I don’t know who that is,” Annie said.

  I shook my head. “Me neither, but I intend to find out.”

  SEVENTEEN

  When I slipped back into the cabin, Roman was in bed. I changed my clothes
in the dark and snuggled in beside him.

  He turned over and wrapped an arm over my shoulders and pulled me to him. “So that was our first fight as a married couple.”

  “And probably not our last,” I said, pressing my nose into his side and drinking in the scent of musk and leather that clung to his naked flesh.

  “You have to trust me sometimes,” he said.

  “I trust you all the time.”

  Silence answered me.

  “Okay,” I relented, “I trust you all the time, but sometimes I forget that. Like today I forgot that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

  “I know what got into you,” he said. “What got into you is that your grandmother married a total stranger and I stopped screaming from the rafters that she shouldn’t do it.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  He chuckled as he tugged at me. I rose up and laid my cheek on his chest. “I can’t always do that. Sometimes one of us needs to remain levelheaded.”

  “Are you sure about that? I think both of us can lose it a little and be fine.”

  Roman wrapped me tightly. “No. One of us needs to keep on the straight and narrow.”

  “Are you sorry you called me a princess?”

  His lips brushed my forehead, leaving a trail of fire. “Are you telling me you’re not my princess?”

  “I thought I was your darlin’.”

  “You’re both, but you’re mostly my darlin’.”

  “As long as I’m something.”

  “Darlin’, you’re more than something. You’re everything.”

  My heart jerked in my chest, and love ballooned inside me. I hugged him tightly as Roman whispered, “Do you know what the best thing about fighting is?”

  “What?” I said.

  His mouth covered mine. A long kiss lingered between us. He spoke in a husky, deep voice. “The best thing about fighting is making up.”

  The next morning we showered and dressed. I’m pretty sure I was so happy I glowed.

  That’s right, y’all, I glowed like a lightning bug’s behind.

  We departed for the island, deciding a tropically magical breakfast was a great idea. I had yet to tell Roman about the note from the Raven. I was waiting for the right time.

  We found a little restaurant with a large aquarium lining the back wall. Lots of colorful fish—reds, golds, oranges, neon blues—streaked through the water.

  The hostess escorted us to a secluded table in back. I ordered lobster for breakfast because hey, it was my honeymoon, and Roman ordered an omelet.

  “I hope you didn’t show up to ruin my parade,” came a voice.

  I glanced up from behind my glass of sweetened ice tea. That’s right, I also drank sweet tea for breakfast.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said. “I’m not here to bother you.”

  Grandma, beaming at her new husband, Alistair I-May-or-May-Not-Kill-My-Wives Krause, strolled up to our table and stopped.

  “Dylan, I’m glad to hear that. Ali and I have been talking it over.”

  Ali? Pet names already. Wow. Even Roman and I didn’t have pet names—and I didn’t consider ‘darlin’’ to be one.

  I lifted my chin and said, “And what have you decided?”

  Grandma looked at Alistair. “We’ve decided to bury the proverbial hatchet and try to start over. Let’s all get off on the right foot. After all, Alistair is your new grandfather.”

  Say what?

  I swallowed the knot in the back of my throat. “Okay, let’s be friends.”

  Grandma sat beside me, and Alistair took up a seat beside Roman. The two men started shop talk about inventions, which seemed boring to me.

  “Did you have a good night?” I asked Grandma. I mean, it was one of those rote questions that we always asked each other every morning. Did you sleep well? Bedbugs keep you up? That sort of thing. What I did not expect was—

  “Yes, Alistair is a wonderful lover,” she said.

  I choked on a glob of lobster until Roman whacked me on the back. It flew from my mouth. After I’d composed myself and burned all thoughts of two old naked bodies writhing around under the sheets, I said, “Oh, that’s wonderful. I’m glad your marriage is off to a good start.”

  Grandma nudged me with her elbow. “I could give you a few pointers.”

  I flared out my arms defensively. “Really. I’m good. Great, really. Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Grandma sucked a lemon wedge. “What’s that, dear?”

  “Can you figure out who wrote something? What I mean is, I’ve found a very important note and want to know who created it.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It could help the detectives figure out who killed Griselda.”

  “Are you still talking about that?”

  I shrugged. “Well, kinda, yeah. Anyway, can you help me?”

  Grandma inhaled. “There are ways. To do the sort of potion you’re talking about, we need a special ingredient. Luckily the dewdrop buttercup is only a hop, skip and a jump away.”

  My eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yes,” she said, poking the air with authority. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for it. You’ve been deceitful, Dylan, and only someone who’s worthy of the flower can reach it.”

  “I’m worthy. Listen, Grandma, we need this.”

  “Oh?”

  “I made a promise.”

  Grandma’s head quivered like a bobble. “You made a promise to someone you also sent to stay in another cabin. I’m pretty sure you also promised to love me until the day I died, and if I brought someone else into our family, you promised to love them, too.”

  I glanced at the ceiling, wondering why me? “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

  With a flick of the wrist she said, “Anyway. You need the flower. We’ll find it and see who wrote the letter.”

  Good. I rubbed my hands together. “Great. When do we start?”

  Grandma winked at me. “It’s not when, it’s why.”

  “What do you mean, it’s why?”

  Grandam gave me a toothy grin. “When you’re looking for the magical dewdrop buttercup, the why is the important thing, right, Alistair?”

  Grandma’s new husband glanced over from Roman with interest. “What’s that, my dear?”

  “Dylan needs us to help her find the magical dewdrop buttercup flower.”

  Alistair fisted his hands together. “Oh, wonderful. A treasure hunt. You know how much I love those. And I have just the thing for the ‘why.’”

  I shook my head. “What’s all this about the ‘why’? I don’t understand.”

  Alistair dug in his pockets. It sounded like a pound of loose change rattling beneath the table. “My dear, the dewdrop buttercup is an elusive flower. It must sense an altruistic ‘why’ before it can be found.”

  He pulled a notepad from his pocket. Alistair licked his fingers and started peeling the pages back. “This little book will help us with the ‘why’.”

  I cocked a brow. “How’s that?”

  Alistair shot me a wide smile and said, “Finish up your breakfast and we’ll see.”

  We finished breakfast and headed out into the jungle.

  “Just what are we doing?” Roman said.

  I leaned over to him. “Last night Annie, Griselda’s assistant, let me try on some of the old woman’s fur coats. Inside I found a blackmail note. I want to know who it’s signed by.”

  There was a soft edge to Roman’s voice when he said, “Dylan.”

  I shrugged. “Grandma says this buttercup flower will help us find that out. What? Stop looking at me like that.”

  “I thought you were staying out of things.”

  “I think we both know that’s impossible.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Well, at least we can give the information to the detectives. It may help them locate the murderer.”

  I quirked a brow. “Oh? Finally seeing things my way, are
you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  We reached a thick area of forest, one clogged with large leafy plants, palm trees and bright pink bromeliads. Sweet fragrances filled my nose, and I inhaled deeply. The low calling of birds came from the distance, and I swear I even heard monkeys yelping.

  Alistair flipped the notepad and pulled a pencil from his pocket. “This is where we put down your ‘why’ for finding the flower. The magical dewdrop buttercup only shows itself to those who truly need its nectar.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Oh,” Alistair said whimsically, “because a single drop from the flower can be used in a variety of ways—some for good, some for bad. Because it can be used for dark, evil magic, the flower has a way of protecting others and itself. This is why we have to find different means of attracting the plant so that it shows itself. One of these ways I developed years ago.”

  He flashed the notepad. “This little invention of mine, when used correctly and with pure intent, helps a person communicate with the flower, attracting it to us. At least that’s the theory.”

  Grandma crossed her arms. “Isn’t he a wonder? It’s no surprise I married him.”

  I kept my mouth shut at that. I turned to Alistair. “So how does it work?”

  He handed me the pen and pad. “Think about the flower and write down why you need it. The message will transmit over the forest. The dewdrop buttercup will show if it believes in your need.”

  “But it’s never worked before?”

  Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, no. In fact, the dewdrop buttercup is the most sought after species on Celestial Island.”

  “It is?”

  Alistair smiled warmly, and for a moment I almost didn’t mind that my grandmother had married him on less than a hair’s breadth of a whim.

  Almost.

  “The flower can be used for many, many things. It can help a witch to see whatever it is that witch needs to see. One drop and theoretically you could conquer the world.”

  Alistair’s eyes gleamed with what looked to be lust.

  “Wow, seriously? All I want is to figure out who wrote this note.”

  Alistair rubbed the back of his arm over his mouth. Was that drool he was swiping away?