by Amy Boyles
I crossed to my purse and pulled a tube of lip gloss from a pocket. "And they bought it? Why?"
Grandma blinked several times. "Would you want to wait around to make sure the plague was true? By the time you figured it out, you'd either be infected or you'd be in the clear."
I applied a slick of pink to my lips. "Good point."
Milly opened the door. Polly flew in. The room clapped at his successful venture. In response, the bird beelined straight for me. I hunched as he clamped down on my shoulder.
"Seriously," I said. "This is getting annoying." I craned my neck to the bird. "Don't you want to go back to Milly?"
"No!" Polly screeched.
Silence blanketed the room as we all gaped at Polly. I waited for someone to say what I was thinking—did he just talk?—when a crackle and buzz filled the room.
Em's head materialized on the far wall. Ugh. What could she want?
"I'm glad to see someone's in a good mood," she snipped.
"Thank you," Reid chirped.
I stifled a laugh.
"As much as y'all are havin' a good time gettin' rid of the vermin around here, there're still things goin' on that ain't so good."
Sera sighed. I knew what she was thinking—the whole Brock-being-arrested thing. It wasn't great, but that didn't mean he was about to be tried for murder and found guilty.
"What are we missing, Em?" I asked since no one else had bothered.
She dug her teeth into her bottom lip. "Gladiolas is here."
"Councilwoman Gladiolas?" I said. "She's awesome. We love her."
That was true. The councilwoman had become my friend the last time our paths crossed. That was when she informed me I wouldn't be punished if I accidentally worked magic around regular people. Normally the punishment is being boiled alive.
Sera and I are so terrible at magic that sometimes things happen around nonmagics. Not things that we intend, but mistakes.
So anyway, Gladiolas gave us permanent immunity from being punished, so we heart her.
"Why's Gladiolas here?" Sera asked. From the corner of my eye I saw her shiver.
Em clicked her tongue. "Jonathan Pearbottom contacted her."
"So?" I said. "What about?"
Em glanced around the room. "Seems he's found enough evidence to take Brock to trial."
Roman pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. "Trial? For Gertrude's murder?"
Em nodded. "Looks like your partner's ready to hang Brock from the rafters. You'd better get down here quick."
bookmark:Chapter Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONE
We raced into the main hall, where the statue of the three witches sat. I glanced at the wand the third sister held. Thoughts of the crystal flashed through my mind. Those thoughts were quickly replaced, though.
Councilwoman Gladiolas sat listening to Inspector Pearbottom, who gestured wildly with his single free hand. The other held a chain. At the end of the chain stood a handcuffed Brock.
"Brock," Sera exclaimed. She ran over to him.
"Don't you worry about me," he said, grinning. "This is all under control."
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Sera snarled at Pearbottom.
The inspector had no time to answer. Roman grabbed him by the collar and knocked the chain from his hands. "What's going on, Jonathan? Last I looked this was our investigation. Not yours. There's no undeniable proof that Brock committed the murder."
Jonathan stuttered and blinked. "He-he threatened the victim. He's from Fairyland."
"And when you looked, did he have magical bubble gum up his rear end?" Roman snapped.
I clamped my lips together on that one. It was hard not to laugh.
Gladiolas rose. "Hold it, Roman. Put him down."
Roman glared eyes of death at her. Gladiolas stared right back. He slowly released Jonathan. Roman set him back on the floor, rocking the inspector to his heels.
Pearbottom rubbed a crimson line on his neck. "If it were up to you, we'd never arrest anyone."
Roman clenched his fist. He took an intimidating step toward Jonathan. "The right one, Jonathan. We'd arrest the right person. Not whoever we felt like."
Jonathan spat in his palm and slicked his hair back. "He is the right one."
"No, he's not," Roman said.
"Jaded. You're jaded and influenced by your feelings. Because you're friends with him, you can't see the truth," Jonathan said.
Roman raised his fist to Jonathan's face. "You're the one who can't see the truth. You're so intent on singling out a killer that every investigation you run is a witch hunt. You'd betray your own brother if there was even a hint that he was guilty."
"Watch it, Bane," Jonathan snapped.
Roman lowered his fist and very calmly said, "No. You watch it. If you arrest one more person on flimsy charges, I'll have your badge."
Jonathan scoffed. "What? An assassin will have my badge? That'll be the day."
"Both of you stop it!"
A cloud of silence covered the room. I gnawed my nails as Gladiolas, red-faced and puffed cheeks, glowered at both men.
"Roman, Jonathan asked me here to help with this case. He's not condemning Brock to death in the next five minutes. Settle down." She paused and turned to Pearbottom. "And as for you, Inspector, if you can't work with your partner, then you'll be demoted to a desk job. Roman Bane is one of the best investigators the Witch Police has ever seen. If you can't get along with him, then you can walk away from this case right now. Am I understood?"
Pearbottom swiped a finger under his parrot nose. "Understood, madam."
Gladiolas clasped her hands in front of her. "Now. As for the amount of information tying Brock to Gertrude's death, I want to discuss that with the current queen, Roman and Pearbottom. The rest of you can leave. That includes Brock."
She snapped her fingers, and Bannock the Butler appeared. "Yes, madam?"
"Bannock, please escort the monkey king back to his room."
"But Councilwoman—" Pearbottom argued.
"That's enough. This man may be under arrest, but there's no reason to keep him in the dungeon. He's innocent until proven guilty and can stay in a locked room until the time of his trial—if he even has one."
"Councilwoman?" Sera peeped.
Gladiolas's eyes softened at Sera. "Yes?"
"May I go with Bannock and Brock?"
Gladiolas nodded. "If the rest of you will excuse us, we have much to discuss."
I gave Roman a feeble smile and pivoted on my heel to leave.
"Dylan, I believe you're needed here," the councilwoman said sharply.
I turned back around. "Oh? I am?"
She rubbed her eyes and sighed the sort of sigh that made me think an annoying fly was buzzing around her head. "Yes. Of course you're needed. You're the current queen."
"Right. I mean, don't you want Em instead? She has more experience with this sort of thing than I do."
Gladiolas's head shook as if it were going to blast off.
"I'll stay," I whimpered.
"Good," she said.
After everyone shuffled out, she turned to the two men. "You must get along. This incident is making waves all over the witch world. We have a newly elected queen murdered. A queen who, by the way, was intent on colonizing Fairyland, something plenty of witches would love to see. This is serious business. If we don't get it right, there could be a war."
Roman's jaw twitched. My heart flew to him. He'd been through so much. To be partnered with a man who clearly still thought of him as a convicted murderer wasn't good. It made my heart hurt.
Roman's gaze flickered to mine. He gave me a smile so warm it was like being blanketed in his affection.
Gosh, I really cared for him.
But now was not the time to think about that.
"We've already gotten rid of Helga," Roman said.
Gladiolas frowned. "So I've heard. When she discovers there wasn't a plague, I don't know what she'll do to retaliate."
"By then we should be handing her the killer," Pearbottom said. "That's all she wanted."
"That and Gertrude's wand," I said.
Gladiolas stiffened. "Her wand? Why would she want that?"
I shook my head. "No idea. But that's what she was asking for. Oh, that and my magic."
Gladiolas grabbed her chest. "Your magic?" She took a staggering breath. "She said that?"
I nodded. "Made me promise to give it to her. That was, if we didn't have a killer in three days."
Gladiolas sighed. "Then we have to wrap this up. Pearbottom, I've heard your case against Brock. I have to say, as much as I don't believe he'd have anything to do with it, the fact that a package from Monkey Town was delivered to Gertrude the night of her death does seem odd." She dragged steepled hands to her lips. "It's enough evidence to present to the council."
I stopped chewing my bottom lip. "What?"
She nodded. "We have few other choices and little time. It's possible the council won't find him guilty, but without any other suspects, they may. I don't know."
"Gladiolas—" Roman stammered.
She raised a hand to silence him. "I've made up my mind. There isn't time to wait on this. We have an inexperienced queen making deals she doesn't understand with Helga. I have a feud of witches breathing down my neck to find the killer, and another sect ready to invade Fairyland. They're convinced an assassin from Fairyland was behind this whole thing. Roman, this is a national witch incident. Gertrude's family is in the North. If we don't find the killer and find them fast, we'll have another war on our hands."
"Gladiolas, I understand that. But not Brock, he wouldn't—"
"Roman, you don't know what the man would do if his back was up against a wall far enough. None of us do. He may be guilty of murder."
"Not him, Gladiolas," Roman said. "I know him. Grew up with Brock. There's no way he would ever do that. I don't believe it, and I don't think you do either."
She raked her fingers through her curling bangs. "It doesn't matter what I believe. I have the safety of the rest of the Southern witches to think about. One day, Roman. You have that long to bring me another option. Otherwise, the council will be here and they will hear Brock's case." Her eye twitched. "And whatever they decide, I will have no jurisdiction over that." She clasped her hands together. "One day. After that, I can't help you."
"But they'll convict him," Roman said.
"Then find the real killer." Gladiolas glanced at the three of us and then snapped her fingers. She disappeared in a plume of green smoke.
I ignored Pearbottom and looked at Roman. "We've got some work to do."
***
When I left Roman, he was pouring over evidence. I returned to my room. I stepped inside and found everyone milling around.
I splayed out my legs and fisted my hips. "All right, y'all. The council is arriving tomorrow to hear Brock's case. If they find him guilty, it won't be good."
"It'll be worse than not good," Grandma said, fluffing her hair. "It'll mean his death."
"No," Sera gasped.
Reid looked up from the queen book. "Thanks, Grandma. Way to make her feel bad."
I rushed over to Sera. "That's not going to happen. Brock isn't going to be found guilty because he didn't do it. All we have to do is prove it."
Sera sniffled. "We will. We can. We've done it before."
Actually we hadn't, I wanted to say.
"Along those lines," Milly said. "There's a spell I think you girls should learn."
"Not Sera," Reid quipped. "Her magic's still all crazy."
I smirked. "And what about your magic, Grandma? Is it working yet?"
My grandmother Hazel wiggled her fingers over her face. "Let me see." She pushed up her sleeves, mumbled some words and sprinkled her fingers over a strand of pearls sitting on the dressing table. Nothing happened. She mumbled again, but still no magic left her fingers.
I chewed a hangnail and spit it onto the floor. "Great. Sera's magic is broken and yours isn't working at all. I'm hoping that won't put us in big trouble."
"It won't," Milly said.
"Won't," Polly screeched. Believe it or not but I was beginning to like it when Polly commented. Sure it was annoying, but it reminded me that I had a friend on my shoulder.
Albeit a wooden one.
"To make sure it doesn't hurt anything, I've got a spell to teach you, Dylan. That is, if you've finally decided you're actually a witch."
I rolled my eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Milly thumped her cane on the floor. "It means you can't work it unless you know exactly who you are."
"And that is?" I said.
"A witch. Pure and simple. Queen Witch, in fact."
"Not for long."
She shrugged. "Take it or leave it. Learn to work the spell or live in denial."
"What is it with all the spells that take massive belief? To work the reversal spell, you have to drink some nasty liquid. But if you don't believe in it, it won't work and it'll make you sick."
Grandma glanced at Milly, who threw her a look of sheer hesitation. "Where did you find out about the reversal spell?" Milly asked.
"Roman told me. Said it would be a way to defeat Helga if it came down to her trying to steal my magic."
Grandma shook her head. "Very risky spell. Too risky."
"Why?" I asked.
"Who wants to be hung over a toilet because they couldn't work a spell correctly? I've got enough things to hunch over—like the stove."
"Yeah, because you cook so much," Reid said.
Grandma sniffed. "I'll be starting soon seeing as Nan isn't coming home with us."
I held out my hands to stop the conversation. "Okay. Can we get back on track?" I turned to my paternal grandmother. "Milly. What's the spell you want to teach me? That is, if I decide I'm a witch and all."
Milly rolled her eyes. "It's called an appearance spell."
Sera pushed herself off the bed. "Is this like that appearance spell when you taught us to find a killer?" My sister nodded toward me. "You remember, Dyl? The one we used when your old assistant Carrie showed up?"
That was right. Several months ago we'd performed a spell that was supposed to make the person trying to kill me appear in front of us. Sort of. They were actually supposed to walk through a door. Well the killer did, but we thought we'd worked the spell wrong. My assistant, Carrie, who at the time I believed held nothing but butterflies and bunnies in her heart for me, stepped through the door.
Turned out she held knives and daggers in her purse. Not bunnies and crap. The girl wanted me dead, plain and simple.
"No, it's not a spell like that."
Reid perked up from her book. "Hey, I forgot all about that spell. Couldn't we use it to find the killer? I mean, it's supposed to make the murderer appear, isn't it?"
Milly flicked her hand, and a serving tray of iced tea appeared. The glasses danced in the air as they made their way over to each of us. I took mine in hand and sipped the refreshing liquid.
"That spell works best if someone's trying to kill you. If you're simply attempting to look for a murderer, it's not as effective. Too many variables. What I want to teach you is different. It makes something reappear that had previously been there. For instance, you have a wilted rose and you need to bring it back to life. What this will do is put the petals back in place. It doesn't bring it back to life, but it slightly turns time backward. So you can see what it looked like before."
I quirked a very questioning brow. "And what exactly is this spell good for?"
Grandma pulled off some of the twenty rings on her fingers and laid them on a jewelry tray. "In essence, it allows you to take an object back in time."
"I got that part, but I don't see how it's relevant."
Reid scoffed. "Gosh, Dylan. What if you went to the hairdresser and told them to chop your hair off. But then you decided you hated it. You can't exactly grow hair with magic, but you could rewind time so
that your hair came back."
I stared at my baby sister, openmouthed. When did she become an expert at magical theory? I looked at Milly. "Is she right?"
Milly nodded. "Reid's been learning a lot from that book on queens."
"Yeah," Reid said. "Like this Bannock dude's been around for forever. He didn't always look great, though."
"I thought you'd already told us that," Sera said.
Reid shrugged. "Thought I'd throw it out there again. Just so you don't forget."
"Okay," I said to Milly. "I get the idea of the spell. Use it to turn time back on an object. Does it wear off eventually? Like with that whole hair thing that Reid said?"
Milly scratched her ear. "No. If you replaced the petals on the rose, the rose will live out its life again, taking the normal amount it needs to wilt and die once more."
"Hmm. This is interesting. I still don't see how it's important, but I guess it can't hurt to learn."
"Yeah," Sera said. "Why not learn a little something new on Christmas Eve."
Oh my gosh. She was right. Roman and I were supposed to exchange gifts. But I didn't have his. It was at home tucked safely into my dresser. A simple leather cuff was all he'd wanted, and I'd found the perfect accessory for the ex-assassin. "Tomorrow's already Christmas? Where's the time gone?" I flashed Milly a panicked glance. "What about our businesses? Our stores?"
Milly palmed her cane. "Don't worry. Time works differently here."
"Yeah, that's what they all keep saying," Reid griped. "That's why I'm not freaking out too much about the whole missing-my-date-with-Rick thing. Even though he is dreamy and I really wanted to go on it."
"You'll get your date with the stud muffin," Grandma said, fluffing the ends of her triangle-shaped hair.
I suppressed a giggle. "Okay, Milly. Let's learn this spell. What do you want me to work on?"
Milly's gaze drifted around the room until she found something. "Reid, can you empty your grandmother's jewelry box and bring it here?"
Reid shoved herself off the bed. She dumped the box on a table. Rings and necklaces clanked onto the dresser. "Here you go."
