Queen Witch

by Amy Boyles

  "So that was y'all’s little game?" I said to Grandma and Nan. I wagged my finger at them. "Y'all are sneaky. I never would've thought Grandma would've faked—"

  Grandma clapped her hands together. The sound thundered in the room. I jumped. Reid yelped.

  "No time for any more talk. Let's go, Nan. Reid, you coming?"

  Reid scurried up beside them. "Yeah, I've got a date with Rick, remember?"

  I frowned. "That was days ago. Is he even going to remember that you exist?"

  Reid stuck her tongue out at me. "For your information, Miss Smartypants, when we get home, it'll be the exact same moment that we left. We won't have lost any time at all."

  I gaped at her. My head snapped over to Milly. "Is that right? Is she telling the truth?"

  Milly nodded. "I may have worked a spell to make sure you didn't lose any time. We told you things worked different here."

  "I guess so." My stomach churned. I flattened my hand against it and sat down. I waved at Reid and Grandma. "Y'all go ahead. I'm going to wait for Sera to come home."

  "For someone who couldn't wait to get out of here, you sure are wanting to build a home here," Grandma said.

  "Not likely," I replied.

  Reid pointed out the window. "I think she's going to be busy with her new boyfriend for a while."

  I rose and sure enough saw Sera and Brock the Monkey King strolling hand in hand through the garden. A smile curled my lips. A few seconds later Grandma, Reid and Nan were gone.

  "I take it Nan didn't know about Grandma's little trick," I said to Milly.

  Milly thumped her cane on the floor. "Nope and she wants to keep it that way. She's afraid it'll make Nan feel less useful."

  I nodded. "Got it. Keep my lips zipped."

  Milly sat quietly. She stared at me. Those beady little eyes bored holes into my head.

  "What is it?" I said.

  "You defeated Bannock, a magic stealer."

  My stomach really churned now. I flattened out on the bed, trying not to groan. "I guess so. I had to drink the reversal spell to do it, though."

  She slapped her thigh and howled with laughter. "You're in for it now, toots."

  "What?" I draped an arm over my forehead.

  She caned over and hovered above the bed, peering down at me. "That spell will make you sick as a dog. Sick as a dog."

  I started to sit up, but a wave of nausea overtook me. "But I thought that was only if you didn't believe."

  She shook her head. "Nope. It does it either way. Bertie just tells everyone that so they won't be afraid to drink it."

  A knot of something gross surged in the back of my throat. I was going to be sick, no doubt about it. "That's a terrible thing to lie about."

  "But if we'd told you the truth, you never would've drank it. So you might be dead now. Which is worse? A little vomit or a lifetime of dead?"

  I rolled onto my side. "Ask me tomorrow."

  She smiled, that gnarly little twisted face of hers taking genuine pleasure in my agony. "I've got some good news for you, kid. Something that will help."

  "Better be something to knock me out," I groaned.

  Milly snapped her fingers. The distinct sound of wooden wings beating the air filled the room. I pushed up from the bed. A tsunami of nausea washed over me. I held it in. Held back the sickness as I watched Polly Parrot land on Milly's shoulder.

  "Polly!" I reached over and stroked his tiny wooden head. "But how?"

  Milly rolled her eyes. "What kind of witch would I be if I couldn't fix an enmagicked parrot?"

  "Not a very good one," I said.

  "You're right." She stroked his beak. "It took a little bit of work, but I've got him fixed to his old self."

  "I'm so glad," I said.

  "But I'm afraid he'll be sticking with me now. He says you've got too much drama going on."

  I almost shot Polly a look of death. Too much drama? He's the one who helped me out with that.

  "Well, whatever. I'm glad he's okay." I rolled back onto the bed. "Now, if you could get me a bucket, a cold washcloth and leave me alone, that would be great."

  Milly snapped her fingers again. "Done."

  And that's how I spent Christmas. With my head in a bucket, emptying my stomach for the next twenty-four hours. I planned on doing it by myself, but Milly told Roman, who emptied my trash can and brought me crackers. I never let him stay in the room too long, though. I mean, I didn't want to completely gross him out. This trip had been bad enough. I had to save some of my dignity.

  Luckily, after your boyfriend has watched you puke into a bin, you don't have to worry about dignity.

  Because guess what, that's the last thing anybody's concerned about.

  bookmark:Epilogue

  EPILOGUE

  I sprinted down the stairs of the castle two at a time. I was going home! After a day of puking my guts out, I was finally ready to return to Silver Springs and get back to my life.

  After all, I had a dress shop to run, peeps.

  Sera had left on Christmas, the day before, with who else—Brock the Monkey King. I had to say, they looked like quite the handsome couple. They were all cozy and snuggly when they walked through the curtain back home. I was almost jealous.

  Almost.

  I had my own male to snuggle up to. And that's where I was headed right now. To get Roman and go home. Woo-hoo!

  I ran into Em on the way out. I took her hands. Never in my life had I been so glad to see her.

  "All hail the queen," I said.

  A smile curved her lips. "You were a good one," she said.

  "But you're better. And you won fair and square."

  "You couldn't be more right, chickadee. But in four years, if you want to run, let me know. I'll put in a good word for you."

  I gave her a quick hug and said good-bye.

  My lungs burned by the time I exited the door at the rear of the castle. I really needed to start running or something. I slowed my pace to a steady walk and waved at the folks outside their cottages in the little village.

  It was just so cute. I wanted to pinch it.

  Roman stood outside his cottage, closing up what looked like a saddlebag.

  I guess because it was the day after Christmas and I was feeling a thousand percent better, I greeted him in the most daring way ever.

  "Hey, handsome," I said.

  He flashed me a huge smile. "Feeling better?"

  "Much," I said. "Thank you for everything you did yesterday. I couldn't have made it without you."

  "Anytime, darlin'. Whatever you need. You know that I'd do anything for you."

  I shot those sunglassed eyes a daring look. "Anything? Come on, Roman. Don't be so dramatic."

  He swept his shades to the top of his head and said, "Anything, Dylan. You don't know how much you mean to me."

  I shivered. Gulp. When did this conversation get so serious all of a sudden? I laughed nervously. A sliver of saliva caught in the back of my throat. The laugh turned into a hacking cough.

  "You okay?" Roman asked.

  I waved him off. "Fine," I croaked. "I'm fine. But you'd better watch out, I might take you up on that offer of doing anything for me."

  He slipped his hand into mine. "I wish you would." He sat on a small bench on his porch and pulled me into his lap.

  I tugged on a lock of his hair. "It's a little late for me to tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa."

  He rolled his eyes. "That's not why you're sitting on me."

  "It's not?"

  "No."

  I glanced down into those sea-green eyes that melted my heart and my spine and liquefied my bones every time I met them. "Then why am I sitting here?"

  Roman glanced away. He cleared his throat. Was he nervous about something? Surely not.

  I did something so daring, y'all. I mean, Roman and I had been dating a few months, but you know me, I'm not just going to take some guy’s hand first or anything. Besides, even though we'd been seeing each other
for a while, it was all very proper. We went out on dates and very rarely spent a lot of time at his house, usually because he was busy or I was.

  Okay, so here's what I did—I took his chin between my thumb and finger and tipped his face to mine. I know, scandal! His eyes widened.

  "What's going on? What's bothering you?" I said.

  He inhaled. "There's something I need to tell you."

  "Okay, shoot."

  "You know what you mean to me."

  I shrugged. "I guess so."

  He smirked. "You guess so?"

  "You're kinda tight-lipped, in case you haven't noticed. Not the most gushy person on the planet."

  He clutched his heart in fake cardiac-arrest mode. "I think you just broke my heart."

  I quirked a brow. "Did I? I didn't know you cared so much."

  He wiped a lock of hair from my eyes. "Darlin', I've got enough feelings for you to send us both to the moon."

  Gulp.

  "Just because I don't say it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

  I nodded.

  "You're saying I've never told you how much I care about you."

  I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I've never really thought about it."

  He slid me down onto the bench beside him and took my hands. "Then let's get this straight right now. You, Dylan Apel, have taken over my heart. You own a piece of me that I can never get back. I'm yours for as long as you want me, and I hope you want me for a very, very long time."

  Tears bloomed in my eyes. "Okay," I murmured.

  He swiped a finger along my cheek. "Does that help you to understand how I feel about you?"

  "Yes," I whispered.

  He nodded. "Good. Because there's something I have to tell you."

  I frowned. "Are you breaking up with me?"

  A dark gash crossed his face. "Why would I be telling you that I love you and breaking up with you at the same time?"

  Wait. What?

  "You didn't say you loved me."

  Roman paused. He hooked his hand behind my neck and dipped his forehead to touch mine. "Would it hurt your feelings if I did?"

  My heart expanded. I swear it was like in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. My heart broke through three bands of steel, it swelled so big.

  "No, it wouldn't hurt my feelings at all."

  "Because I do love you," he murmured. Roman brushed his lips across my forehead. "More than you can ever imagine."

  My heart skipped, it leaped, it did somersaults, and yet—"Roman, I feel so much for you. I just can't quite say that yet."

  He smiled. The edges of his eyes crinkled. "You'll say it when you're ready." He hugged me. We were silent for a good solid minute.

  My heart stormed against my rib cage. I felt so bad not telling him I loved him. There were times when I felt it. But I simply wasn't ready to say it.

  "Gosh, I only came by to get you so that we could go home," I said. "How'd this turn all serious?"

  Roman chuckled. He rose and pulled me up with him. "I'm about ready."

  "Good. Because I've still got your Christmas present, remember?"

  Something loud shuffled behind the house. I threw Roman a confused glance. His eyes narrowed.

  "Stay here." He jumped down the steps and headed back.

  Yeah, like I was going to listen to that.

  I took the steps and turned toward the forest that butted up against the village. I saw Roman just past the brook. I saw another man, too. He wore buckskin pants, a vest made of hide and I swear a raccoon hat.

  I'm pretty sure it was Davy Crockett.

  The man raised a staff. "Who are you? What do you want?"

  "Listen, pal, you're on my property," Roman said.

  The man paused. Turned his ear toward Roman as if he were trying to hear him better. Sunlight glinted off his brown eyes. His face was ragged, hard, like he'd lived in the forest for the past ten years. Dirt coated his clothes and his body. To be honest, I was surprised the man could even speak. He looked like he'd been removed from civilization eons ago.

  His face paled. "Roman?"

  Roman staggered back a step. I strode forward until I reached his side. He grabbed my hand, anchoring himself to me.

  "Dad?" Roman gasped.

  I peered through the slats of sunlight in the trees. My mind whirled to the pictures of Roman's father in his house. It could be him twenty years later and twenty pounds lighter. I looked closer at his eyes.

  They were Roman's, only a different color.

  Oh my word. It was Richard Bane. Roman's father—the one man who'd been in the castle the night of the murders. He stood here. In the forest. Looking like a trapper from 1840.

  "Dad?" Roman repeated.

  "Roman? Where's your mother?" Richard said.

  Roman and I exchanged glances. Well, it looked like we had a whole other mystery on our hands.

  <<<<>>>>

  Read on for an exclusive excerpt from Quit Your Witchin’

  Hey y’all,

  I cannot thank you enough for reading Queen Witch. If you enjoyed it, sign up below for my mailing list so you can receive updates about the Bless Your Witch series.

  While you’re waiting for the continuing saga of the Apel sisters to pop up on your ereading device, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Reviews are invaluable to Indie authors like myself as it helps my little book gain visibility and also helps other readers decide if they’d be interested in trying out my book. ‘Cause you know, life is short, and there are lots of books out there to read—if you're like me, you want to read the ones that entertain you.

  You can leave a review HERE.

  By the way, sign up for the author’s New Releases mailing list and get an EXCLUSIVE copy of the top secret Roman Bane’s Dossier, a Bless Your Witch short not available anywhere else. Learn all the juicy tidbits about the sexy ex-assassin Roman Bane that not even Dylan knows!

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  You can sign up HERE.

  Y’all take care of yourselves out there.

  Best witches,

  Amy

  BLESS YOUR WITCH

  Scared Witchless

  Kiss My Witch

  Queen Witch

  Quit Your Witchin’

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  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.

  Connect with Me Online:

  Facebook: http://facebook.com/amyboylesauthor

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  Thank you for reading Queen Witch. If you enjoyed it, tell others about it or write a review. If you do write a review, please let me know at amyboylesauthor@gmail.com so I can personally thank you.

  #######

  Quit Your Witchin’

  ONE

  Reid streaked toward me. “Ahh! It’s going to hurt me!”

  A crimson paper heart, cut from the best construction paper I could buy at Dollar General, soared toward my baby sister.

  She shielded her face. “Stop it!”

  “It’s not going to hurt you,” I said.

  Reid clutched the burgundy curls that cascaded over her shoulders. “Then why is it chasing me?”

  The heart flapped its body like wings, wobbling through the air. The thing wasn’t exactly aerodynamic, though it was, in fact, aiming right toward Reid.

  I cocked my head. She had a point. It might want to cut her.

  My name is Dylan Apel and I’m a witch. My whole family is. Well, all of them except Reid, who was currently under attack from
a decoration for the annual Silver Springs Valentine’s Day dance. Yep, it was a community affair—come one, come all—from the geriatrics to the littlest ones. But this particular paper heart, limply beating its body around the room, was supposed to be hanging from the ceiling of the high school gymnasium, not magically bobbing around it.

  Therein lay the problem.

  My maternal grandmother, Hazel Horton, pushed up the sleeves of her sequined Valentine’s sweater. The front had a naked cupid shooting an arrow. The back had the phrase, Will you be mine? She hadn’t gotten a lot of offers on the latter yet.

  Grandma grabbed me by the shoulders. “Dylan, you must wrangle them. Get control of the hearts before they shred our skin.”

  I stopped. “Me? Why me?”

  My other sister, Seraphina—Sera for short—punched a heart to the floor and smashed it with her boot. “Because you’re the one who caused this. They’re supposed to be on the ceiling. Not attacking us.”

  That was indeed true. I might be a witch, but I’m not always great at magic. I’m getting better, but it takes a while to learn all the ins and outs of witchcraft. Apparently, right now was one of those out times.

  “Grandma, what do I do?” I said.

  She thrust a ball of twine in my hands. “Make a lasso. Corral them.”

  I stared from the twine to the flock of hearts flapping around the room. “Are you kidding?”

  She clapped my shoulder. “Of course not. This is a battle. You must be in control. Take a stand. Here.” She yanked the twine off the roll and secured it into a lasso. She snipped the end with a pair of scissors and shoved the string in my hands.

  “Be one with the lasso, Dylan. Wrangle the hearts.”

  Reid caught the homicidal heart that had been chasing her. She ripped it in half. “Yeah, Dylan. Wrangle those hearts just like you did Roman’s.”

  My little sister was talking about my boyfriend, Roman Bane, chief detective of Silver Springs, Alabama. “Yeah. Good thing he isn’t here. He’d have a fit.”