Queen Witch (Bless Your Witch Book 3) Read online

  I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean we'll have to do it?"

  She shook her head. "It's part of the magic of the solstice and Castle Witch."

  "The solstice isn't for days."

  Em shook her head. "Not here it isn't. The solstice is tonight."

  Sera gave Em a you-must-be-seriously-out-of-your-gourd look. "I thought it was an entire day, not a few hours."

  Em tapped her toe impatiently. "Things work different here. I cain't explain every little nuance. It would take all night."

  "Queen Em! You're requested at the podium."

  A soft-faced man wearing a black tuxedo had spoken. A white bow tie was clipped to his throat, and his silver hair lay slicked back. Resting in the palm of his white glove sat a silver stopwatch. Em looked at me as if she wanted to say more, but instead she gritted her teeth and headed to the front.

  As soon as she reached the podium, a rustle bristled behind me. I turned, and there stood Gertrude Boxbigger. She pulled what looked like a wad of chewing gum from the breast of her dress and popped it in her mouth.

  "Oh heaven," she gushed. "It has been too long."

  To chew some gum? Boy, if that was a problem for this lady, we were all in trouble.

  Gertrude smacked her lips toward me. "What a pleasure to finally meet the Apel sisters. May I speak with you?" she said, eyeing my family.

  I glanced at Sera and nodded. We stepped a few feet away with Gertrude.

  When there was enough distance that my family couldn't hear our conversation, Sera turned to her. "Nice speech," she said flatly.

  Gertrude's gaze shifted from Sera to me as if she was watching a ping-pong tournament. "I hope you liked it. I know you're new to all this business—"

  I took a tentative step back. "Look, this whole witchy thing isn't for me."

  Gertrude cackled as if it was the funniest joke in years, decades, eons. "Times are changing. You've got to embrace your witch heritage. If I win this election, you'll have no choice in that. But why wouldn't you want to? You've received the greatest of gifts."

  A chill raced down my spine. "It's not so awesome when every time you turn around someone—specifically, a witch—is trying to kill you."

  She adjusted her glittering green pointy hat. "You've just been unlucky, is all."

  I rubbed my temples. "Right, and you corral all of us to Fairyland and we'll really wind up dead."

  "I think you'll soon see things differently."

  I shook my head. "I know the unicorns. I know Titus, their king. Do you know any of them?"

  Gertrude gummed her lips, her gaze shifting from side to side. "What a wonderful debater you are, Dylan, but that's not why I've come. We can talk politics later. For now I need a favor from you and Sera."

  I quirked a totally disinterested brow. I mean, who did this Princess Chewing Gum think she was, anyway? I didn't like her, and there was no way I was going to help her.

  "What's that?" Sera asked.

  "Dylan, I request you make my gown for the ballot casting."

  And then it was as if the room rocked and pivoted. A wall of energy washed over me. I felt as if a spell had been cast in the depths of my core. I wanted to say no. My lips moved to say no. I even tried to say no. But what came out was—

  "Of course."

  What? Not of course! No way, lady! I'm sure as heck not going to make a dress for someone who wants to harm my friends.

  I threw Sera an alarming gaze. She would say no. Definitely. But instead she replied, "Yes."

  What was going on?

  As Gertrude shuffled away, she commented over her shoulder. "Great. There's a room set up for you, Dylan, and the kitchen is ready for you, Sera. See you tonight, girls."

  My knees wobbled. My jaw unhinged to say something, but I couldn't form any coherent words.

  "Aren't you a sight for these eyes."

  My heart sang at the sound of Roman's voice. My lips curled into what was probably a goofy-looking smile. I turned around, and there he stood, two hundred and thirty pounds of chiseled, lean muscle. He looked spectacular in a black T-shirt that stretched hard across his chest, fitted jeans and boots.

  Heat spread over my cheeks as he grinned down at me. "Isn't that a little cliché? Saying I'm a sight for your eyes?" I teased.

  Roman cocked his head. "How about, seeing you warms my heart?"

  I pretended to think about it for a minute. "Still cliché."

  He tapped a finger to the two-day stubble on his cheek and said, "I guess I'm just a cliché-making machine. Sorry, darlin', but when it comes to you, I wonder why birds suddenly appear every time you're near."

  I punched him in the arm. "Very funny."

  He flinched and then wrapped me in hug that made me feel safer than safe. "I've missed you," Roman murmured.

  "I missed you more," I whispered back.

  "I hope not. Your heart might explode."

  Roman stared down at me. I tipped my chin up and gazed into those sea-green eyes of his. The air around us contracted, and I swear electricity crackled. When his lips brushed mine, a surge of energy ripped through my spine. If this wasn't love, it was pretty darn close.

  "Okay, get a room, you two," Sera said.

  Oops. I'd forgotten my sister was there.

  Roman released me and greeted my sister. "When did you arrive?"

  I twirled my ponytail around my finger. "Right before that awful Gertrude started to speak."

  His jaw hardened, but he only nodded. "I asked Em to keep you out of this."

  I crossed my arms. "Now why wouldn't you want us here? This awesome place full of love and cheer?"

  He frowned. "I see you've already got an impression."

  I clicked my tongue. "You could say that again."

  Roman hugged me to his side. I slid into him, clutching his shirt and exhaling some of the tension from my body.

  "Don't worry," he said. "Hopefully none of us will be here too long. Once voting's over, we can all go home."

  Voting. I winced. "Roman, something really weird just happened."

  He glanced down, a line of worry etching his forehead. "What's that?"

  "Right before you came over, Gertrude asked me if I'd make her voting dress. Then she wanted Sera to make the food. I tried to say no because I don't like that woman, but I couldn't."

  "Me neither," Sera said. "I had to say yes."

  Anger flecked Roman's eyes. His lips dissolved into a thin line, and he said, "Gertrude's using you to rig her election."

  "What?" I said, confused.

  "She's going to use both of you to influence how others vote. The woman's aiming to win."

  I shook my head. "But my dresses only give people a good feeling. They can't alter how someone sees them."

  Roman glanced over at Gertrude, who stuck out like a ripe lime as she mingled with the crowd. "Your magic can here. At Castle Witch, on the eve of the solstice, your power will influence others. Gertrude's going to use it to wage her war."

  THREE

  This whole thing was ridiculous. I didn't like witches. I didn't want to be at Castle Witch. I just wanted to go home. In fact, I was starting to wish I didn't have any powers at all. Like none. Obviously that would have been detrimental because making dresses was my life. I loved seeing the expressions of joy and elation on women's faces when they tried on one of my gowns. It made my heart soar.

  But now to be a pawn in someone's game—one that in no way resembled the ones of my childhood—angered me. And this wasn't even a game. We were talking about what seemed to be genocide. This was way not cool.

  I hated witches. As soon as I got out of Castle Witch, I would never be around them again.

  I'd become a freaking hermit. Go live in a swamp somewhere, with singing birds and croaking frogs and crap. Maybe they'd make my bed every morning or something. Perhaps bake me a pie. Or at least help me build clothes by finding ribbon and buttons.

  But I digress.

  Sera had gone into the kitchen to cook while
I'd been whisked away to a tower. I'd been directed up a winding staircase to a room that overlooked a balcony with a gargoyle-lined parapet. The little statues resembled winged monkeys. Not sure if that was an homage to the relationship between the monkeys in Fairyland and the witches, or if it had just been placed there simply to freak me out.

  I was absolutely freaked out.

  I had just taken stock of the materials displayed in the room when someone knocked at the door. Who was it? Was it a witch? Had someone come to hurt me? I was trapped up in a tower, all alone.

  My heart thundered against my chest. I gulped down a few breaths. Stay calm. It probably wasn't a witch coming to kill me or anything.

  The knock sounded again.

  Okay, so whoever it was knew I was in here. I needed to do some good old-fashioned loin girding and answer.

  "Dylan, will you open up this stupid door?"

  Em. Not someone who wanted to kill, but certainly a person who could annoy me to death.

  I crossed over and answered it. There stood the queen in all her regality. She wore a silk dress the color of teal green. It offset her gorgeous hair and bone-colored skin in a way that made me crazy jealous—oh, to have coloring like that!

  "You should have asked me to make your dress before you walked away," I snarled.

  "I cain't apologize for what wasn't done," she said.

  "I think you should. Then I wouldn't be in this mess. I wouldn't be making a dress for someone who stands against what I believe in, and Sera wouldn't be making her food. This is bad, Em. I have to do this—the spell or whatever is forcing me to. That woman can't win."

  "I know," she said.

  "Well that sounded confident," I snapped.

  She narrowed her eyes to slitty wedges of death and said, "I came to make you feel better, but I see that's pointless."

  "If you'd wanted me to feel better, you should have brought Roman."

  "He's busy attending to some business."

  "In that case, let me get this stupid dress made so that I can vote and get the heck out of here." I moved to close the door. Em's hand shot out. Her clammy grip held my arm like iron. "Try not to make your best dress, Dylan. Just do the worst you can."

  I peered into Em's eyes and saw something I'd never seen before—fear.

  Crap. If Em was afraid, I figured I needed to be terrified.

  So shall it be written. So shall it be done.

  "Do your worst," she said. "After all, you're a witch."

  Images of pointy hats and homicidal women flooded my mind. "I'm not a witch, Em. I'm not like any of you. I'm a woman who happens to be a dressmaker who has some ability. That's all."

  "Chickadee, you're a witch."

  Anger ripped through my chest. "I'm not a witch! And the sooner I'm out of here and away from all of y'all, the better."

  My words sucked the air from the room. Em stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. She unclamped her hand from my arm. "See you in a couple of hours."

  After Em sashayed down the hall, I closed the door and surveyed the fabrics and embellishments.

  Black velvet, black silk, white silk, white velvet, clear and ebony crystals, ivory and black feathers. That was it, folks. That's all I had to create Gertrude's dress. And I didn't want this witch to win.

  So the gown needed to be horrific.

  I could do it long hand. Thread a needle and all that, or even use the state-of-the-art sewing machine that had been planted in the room. But I had the sinking feeling voting wouldn't begin until all the preparations were ready. There was no choice. To make this dress fast, I needed to use the power I resented.

  I cracked my knuckles, then raised my hands to start magically constructing the gown.

  I sewed.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later the dress was finished. I heaved a breath and studied what I would've considered up until that point in my career a definite masterpiece. Or, a piece.

  Of something.

  The door burst open. Gertrude squeezed her buxom body through the entrance and traipsed in.

  "Dylan Apel," she said, smacking her lips. She was still working that wad of gum in her mouth.

  Gertrude pulled a tissue from her pocket, spit the gum into it and pulled another cube of Bubblicious or whatever from her breast. Gross. It must've been soggy from chest sweat.

  Wait. Don't go there, Dylan.

  Too late. Now I had a mental image of goopy gum dripping with Gertrude's breast sweat. Great. Why didn't I just give myself a paper cut and pour some lemon juice on it?

  Even I have my limits for being a glutton for punishment.

  Gertrude's gaze brushed over my homage to Cruella de Vil. Black velvet on one side, white on the other with roses of the opposite color on the skirt of each. The two hues twisted at the bodice, separating fully at the waist. I'd tacked feathers to the breast, making them resemble rockets shooting skyward. At least I hoped so. I'd also sewn crystals to the butt.

  That's right, crystals on the butt. Gertrude requested a dress. Nothing dictated that it was supposed to be an epic work of art.

  Plus, I didn't want her to win. No way.

  She clicked her tongue. Her eyes shone with excitement. Gertrude clasped her hands, tapping her fingers lightly.

  "It's…" she started to say. Shook her head. "It's…it's…gorgeous!"

  What?

  She took my hands. I pulled back, seriously feeling sick to my stomach. Gertrude, not one to be deterred—or even one to read body language—pulled me into a hug that smelled faintly of Bubble Yum.

  "Thank you. Oh, thank you. You've assured my victory."

  "Great. Just great." I cast a glance at the dress that I had hoped would sink the mad plan of Gertrude's ship. I sighed. "Let's get it back to your room so you can change."

  Gertrude grinned. "I'll call the maid."

  After all, once voting was finished, I was leaving. No time to dillydally.

  ***

  I arrived at the ballot casting with a line of sweat raging down my back. I squirmed, trying to rid myself of the uncomfortable feeling, but the pink silk gown I currently wore wasn't much help in that regard.

  Yes, I said pink silk. Voting required a dress code. I'd found several gowns hanging in the closet when I returned to the room I was sharing with my family. Don't worry. No one expected us to spend the night. It was only a lounging room.

  All we had to do was cast some ballots, eat some divine munchies that Sera had made, find out the winner, and leave. Easy as an apple pie cooling on a windowsill.

  Unless there were flies around. Or cats that liked pie. Or some other annoyance I hadn't thought about.

  "Can I offer you a drink?"

  The man who had held the stopwatch flanked my side. He extended a silver tray filled with glasses of water.

  "No, thank you," I said. I didn't want to eat or drink anything in this place that hadn't been given to me by my sister.

  Not that I was paranoid of being murdered or anything. I mean, I'd only seen a person die by being vaporized by a dress and another poisoned. That didn't mean someone was going to try to kill me.

  Wait a minute. I had on a dress I'd found in the closet upstairs. Whew. I wasn't dead yet. Perhaps the water was safe. I reached for it.

  Then again, perhaps it wasn't.

  "No, thank you, I'm all right."

  The man offered a gentle, fatherly half smile. He moved to walk away but then stopped. "You know, you're quite the celebrity here, Lady Dylan."

  "Lady Dylan?"

  He smiled, gave a slight nod. Age lines rippled on the sides of his face. His was a gentle face, with twinkling eyes and a kind smile. "Here, all the witches are ladies and the men are lords."

  "Even you?" I asked.

  "Not me. I'm Bannock. I'm neither witch nor wizard. I'm a nonmagic, brought into this life by a witch who was a dear friend. I serve the castle."

  Conversation grew around us as other people entered the hall. I'd come down earlier than
the rest of my family, anxious to see how the crowd received the dress.

  "Serve the castle?" I asked.

  "I'm the house butler."

  "Oh." There were still butlers around?

  "Enjoy your evening," he said.

  I nodded. "Thank you."

  As the crowd milled about, I spied Sera from across the way. I waved her over. "How'd the cooking go?"

  She shrugged. "I tried to make everything tasteless, but apparently it didn't work. Gertrude thought my cheese and crackers were amazing."

  "Same thing happened with the dress. We can only hope that no one votes for her."

  My stomach soured at the thought of Gertrude winning.

  "Where's Roman?" Sera asked.

  "He said he'd be here shortly. He had some stuff to do."

  The last of the crowd entered, including my grandma, Reid—who's frown said she was more than ready to leave—and Nan, who wore a black high-necked dress with an insignia patch over the left breast. I'd have to ask about that later, but for now…

  Gertrude entered in a whirlwind of black, white and deranged. I crossed my fingers, hoping the crowd would revolt at the sight of her.

  Anxiety built in my chest. It swelled like a balloon full of butterflies. Oh, the heck with crossing my fingers. I plum nibbled on them instead. I watched the crowd. The women took in the dress.

  Oohs and ahhs filled the room. Are you kidding me? Gertrude looked like an exploding turkey. But the witches of the castle followed her every move, their eyes shining.

  Boy, did they need some lessons in fashion.

  Em entered, her lavender dress receiving a few complimentary nods of approval, but nothing like Gertruda de Devil.

  Get it? It's like Cruella de Vil, but only Gertrude as Satan. Ha. Aren't I witty?

  Servants arrived with trays of food, placing them on tables nestled about the room. The witches swooped in, apparently half-starved, and began munching on Sera's treats.

  "I'm hungry," Reid said.

  Sera took her by the arm. "Don't eat them."