Y'all Witches
Page 15
She glanced down at her plate of food. Grandma sniffled. I grabbed a napkin and squeezed into Alistair’s empty chair.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. Alistair called me last night and said you were in the infirmary. He said he didn’t know if you were going to make it and that I needed to come right away. Then he lured me to the pool, pushed me in and held me down. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here. You saved me by teaching me how to create the breathing bubble. You saved my life.”
Grandma sighed. She fingered her silver hair and said, “Well, I guess you’ve got to live a little at least once in your life, right? If I hadn’t married Alistair, I would’ve wondered my whole life what it was like to have been wedded to him.”
I shot Roman a secret smile. “Would’ve wondered your whole life?” I grabbed her hand. “Me too.”
We finished up breakfast. I asked Roman to escort Grandma to her room.
“Where are you going?” he said.
I tightened my grip on the vial of nectar. “I’ve got one more thing to do.”
His lips left a trail of heat as they cascaded over my forehead. I headed up to the deck and to the railing. The waves of nausea from looking over the rail had vanished since I’d jumped into the crater on the island. I stared out at the open sky below and pulled out the bottle of nectar.
There was no doubt Alistair would’ve used it to find his next buried treasure. If anyone else knew about the nectar, what would they use to for? Scour the earth for riches? Take another’s life?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out. I uncorked the bottle and tipped the vial, letting the golden contents spill out below.
I inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. In the distance I could see the shape of Castle Witch forming. The trip was coming to an end, but my life was beginning.
And I was ready for it.
Epilogue
Moving day arrived. My moving day into Roman’s house. I mean, the official moving day, not one of those namby-pamby days where I just grab an overnight bag and head over to my husband’s house.
No. Like a real day, when large pieces of furniture got moved and stuff. When I actually moved my life next door.
“Are you taking your bed?” Reid said.
I glanced at the white paint flicking off the iron scrollwork. “I sure am.”
Reid crossed her arms. “I thought you were leaving it.”
I stuffed a sweater in a box and folded the flap shut. “We have a guest bedroom. I might need it.”
She squinted at me. “For who? Who’s going to visit you?”
I dusted my hands. “Well, who knows? Maybe Grandma will decide to get married again and she’ll kick her husband out and the poor guy will have to stay at my house.”
Sera walked in carrying a dustcloth. “Maybe this time we’ll get to meet him before he’s arrested.”
I laughed. “Or maybe we’ll just go ahead and have him arrested first to begin with.”
Grandma shouted from the kitchen. “I heard that, girls.”
Nan, my grandmother’s bodyguard, strolled in carrying a bottle of Ajax and a squeegee. “Let me at ’em. If I’d met the old dishrag, I would’ve smelled his cowardice from a mile away. Had him locked up just for breathing.”
I patted Nan’s shoulder and gave her a tempered smile. “I think it’s a good thing you weren’t on board at all. You probably would’ve had half the airship arrested.”
Nan ran a thumb over her jaw. “My guess is they probably would’ve needed it.”
Sera laughed. “Nan’s right. Would’ve saved you the trouble of almost getting killed, Dylan.”
I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and secured it. “I guess that’s true.”
Reid plopped her bottom down on the bed. “None of this bickering still answers my question. Are you taking your bed?”
“I already told you I am. Why do you keep asking?”
Reid fluffed her burgundy curls. “’Cause I’m hoping you’ll change your mind.”
I exhaled a deep shot of air and sat beside her. I nudged my baby sister with my elbow. “Do you really want the bed?”
Reid wrapped an arm around me. “I really want the bed.”
I sighed and said, “Okay. You can have it.”
“Yippee!”
“On one condition,” I said, pointing my finger at her.
She folded her hands as if in prayer. “Yes, anything.”
“You have to make sure that if Grandma does get married again, you send him to my house first.”
“Why?” Reid said.
I smiled. “So I can send him on his way.”
Nan, Sera and Reid laughed. I joined them in a good chuckle as Grandma walked into the room. She had her aviator glasses on as if she were in the middle of some serious experiments. She hoisted them atop her head and glared at us.
“I do not appreciate my loneliness being made fun of.”
I cocked my head. “I’m not making fun of your loneliness.”
“You’re not?” she said.
I shook my head. “No. I’m making fun of your choice of life partner.”
Sera and Reid cackled. Grandma shot them looks of death. “Can I help it that the man I chose to spend the rest of my life with tried to kill my granddaughter and run off with her potion?”
I waved dismissively. “Of course not.”
She sniffed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, if you hadn’t married him to begin with, none of that would’ve been a problem at all.”
Nan hooted in laughter, and Grandma threw up her arms. “Make one little mistake and no one forgives you for it. Go off and get married and no one lets me live it down. Why, next time one of y’all girls gets yourself in a screwy situation, I’m going to call up every relative we’ve got in the tricounty area and let them know it. Every one. Why, I might even add in a story about a rabid possum or two just for good measure. What do you think about that?”
I rose from the bed and gave her a hug. “I think telling the relatives that a possum tried to eat my face is a great idea.”
Grandma swatted me away. “Ingrate.”
I laughed and grabbed the box of sweaters. I turned around and gave my room a once-over. The dresser and chest were gone, the walls bare and the bed stripped. My lower lip trembled for half a second before I pressed my mouth tight.
“Well,” Grandma said, patting my shoulder, “looks like this is it. You’re officially leaving the nest and moving into the wilds of next door. Be careful.”
I knuckled a tear from my eye. “It’s all so strange. I never thought this day would come.”
Sera pushed a glossy curtain of hair from her eyes. “But it did. It’s here and you’re moving out.”
I toed the floor. “I’m only going next door. It’s not like I won’t see y’all every day.”
Nan sprayed some Ajax on the floor. “Dylan, just yell if you need me to protect you. I’m always ready and willing.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Nan. I will.”
Reid sprawled out on the bed. “Whatever you do, don’t ask for this back. I’m keeping it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I won’t.” I inhaled deeply, feeling my chest balloon with emotion. I tamped it down and said, “This is the last box.”
Sera gave me a hug. “You’re only going next door.”
“I know.”
Grandma patted my hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be by at some point. You’ll need sugar or tea.”
I shrugged. “Probably.”
I put the box down and wrapped my arms around Sera and Grandma. “Nan. Reid. Get over here.”
Though Reid grumbled, she got up and crossed to us. “I love y’all,” I said. “Hugs.”
We knotted into a football-style huddle hug and exchanged a series of tearful “love you’s.” I tried not to lose my super cool, which I managed by not crying. I tucked the box under my arm and headed out.
“See y’all tomorrow,” I said.
<
br /> “Call if you need anything,” Grandma said.
The screen door slammed shut behind me, the sound of it like a shotgun charging the air. I held the box tighter and headed off to my new house.
It was a small cottage—clean, with the inside painted a light lemon color bordered with white trim.
I teetered in. “Honey, I’m home.”
“I’m back here,” Roman called.
I walked the box to the bedroom, where my things were scattered across the floor. With paintbrush in hand, Roman gave the wall a final stroke. “Finished.”
He dropped the brush in a paint tray and dusted his hands. Paint speckled his shirt and jeans. “What do you think?” Roman said.
I smiled widely. “It’s gorgeous. I love it.”
Roman ran a thumb down his jaw. “You look good in here.”
I laughed. “You think?”
He nodded. Roman took the box from me and laid it on the floor. “I’ve been thinking.”
I quirked a brow. “About what?”
“I have the feeling you’re never going to let go of this idea of helping witches. I know you want to help transition new witches into the world and I also know you want to help witches if they find themselves in the middle of a mystery.”
Hope fluttered in my chest. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying…I’ll help you. We’ll start a business—either a private investigative firm or something.”
“Do you mean it?”
He smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Darlin’, I’ll do anything if it makes you happy.”
“Roman, that’s amazing.” I started to wrap my arms around him.
He held his hands out in a surrender position. “Be careful. I might be wet.”
I hugged his middle, resting my head on his chest, and said, “I really don’t care. All I care about is that this is our home.”
He coiled his arms around me and said, “And how does that make you feel?”
I tipped my head back and let him kiss me. When our lips parted, I held his gaze. His green eyes blazed when I said, “It makes me feel like the happiest woman in all the world.”
Roman kissed me again and said, “That’s all I could hope for.”
I sighed into him and thought, me too.
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Thank Y’all
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FOR WITCH'S SAKE
DON'T GIVE A WITCH
WITCH MY GRITS
FRIED GREEN WITCH
SOUTHERN WITCHING
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SWEET TEA WITCH MYSTERIES
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SOUTHERN SPELLS
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SOUTHERN SINGLE MOM PARANORMAL MYSTERIES
The Witch’s Handbook to Hunting Vampires
The Witch’s Handbook to Catching Werewolves
The Witch’s Handbook to Trapping Demons
About the Author
Amy Boyles grew up reading Judy Blume and Christopher Pike. Somehow, the combination of coming of age books and teenage murder mysteries made her want to be a writer. After graduating college at DePauw University, she spent some time living in Chicago, Louisville, and New York before settling back in the South. Now, she spends her time chasing two toddlers while trying to stir up trouble in Silver Springs, Alabama, the fictional town where Dylan Apel and her sisters are trying to master witchcraft, tame their crazy relatives, and juggle their love lives. She loves to hear from readers! You can email her at amy@amyboylesauthor.com.
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