2 Kiss My Witch Page 5

  "Our own investigation," she said.

  "Yes. It seems like a good idea to me."

  "I think it's a lousy idea. Remember what happened last time," Reid said.

  "Yes, I know what happened last time; we've already discussed it. How about I don't go pointing fingers until there's undeniable truth?"

  "There was undeniable truth last time," Sera said. "Problem was, the evidence set up Em, and you see how that's turned out."

  I clicked my tongue. "Okay, so say I'm extra careful. Who's with me?"

  "I have to think about it," Sera said.

  "Seriously?"

  She kicked her feet under the covers. "Yeah. I don't want to get on any other witch's bad side."

  "Reid?" I asked.

  "Since I don't have any magic, no one's going to try to kill me, so I'm down with it."

  "That's your reasoning?" I said. "That no one will try to kill you because they can't steal your power?"

  She set the phone on the stand beside the bed. "Sounds good to me."

  "Pointless. This entire conversa—"

  A crash echoed from downstairs. We stared at each other for half a second; then I threw off the comforter and scrambled from the room. I reached the top of the stairs along with a few other curious witches. A man in a bowler cap blocked the front door.

  "Pearbottom," I whispered.

  He raised what looked like a wallet and opened it. A silver shield glimmered in the dim light. "I want everyone dressed and downstairs now. The witch police are officially over this murder investigation."

  I needed to warn Roman. If Pearbottom found him, he'd have Roman arrested and hanged.

  Crap.

  I had to find him fast, before Pearbottom got to him first.

  FIVE

  Em whirled into the foyer, crimson curls rioting, bangles clanking. Did she wear her jewelry to sleep?

  "Jonathan," she said in that throaty voice of hers. "Let's discuss this in my room."

  "Esmerelda, with all due respect, I must begin interviewing witnesses."

  She coiled a hand around his arm. "I agree, but I need to talk to you first." She tugged on his bicep, and Pearbottom's lips tipped into a confident smile. His gaze swept the staircase full of witches before he shuffled off beside the queen.

  I exhaled. Sera approached me. I nodded down the stairs. "I'm going to find Roman and tell him to lie low."

  Sera crossed her athletically tapered arms. "Is that right?"

  "Yeah." Why was she staring at me as if I had a wart on my chin? "That's right. Do you know which room he's in?"

  "No," she said.

  "I do," came a voice from behind us. I leaned back and up popped Grandma's head into view. "I was talking to that nice young man about the tragic events today, and about how I recently learned from the unicorn king— You remember Titus?"

  I nodded, exhausted from the conversation already. "Yes, I remember him. He didn't poop on the floor."

  Grandma bristled. "Of course he didn't. He's royalty."

  "She's got you there," Sera said.

  I snickered. "Go on, Grandma."

  "Titus told me about the recent death of one of his friends, another unicorn. Anyway, I was passing on this information to that young bodyguard friend—"

  "He's not my bodyguard anymore," I corrected.

  "Will you let her finish?" Reid said, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

  "Yes," I said. "But he's not my bodyguard. I was only making that clear."

  Reid twisted a lock of curls. Was this a party on top of the stairs now? "We know," she said. "We all know you're never going to forgive him for faking that kiss, which I'm pretty sure he didn't fake, and if you only took the time to talk to him about it, you'd realize that."

  My jaw fell. "I'm sorry. When did you become such an expert on relationships?"

  Reid shrugged. Said nothing.

  "That's what I thought."

  "Anyway," Grandma said, "I was telling him about the unicorns when one of the staff handed the assassin a key." She paused. I waited. For a lifetime.

  "And?"

  "Oh! The key had the number three printed on it."

  "Three? Great. I'm going to find him." As the rest of the staircase grumbled and bumped their way back to bed, I set off to warn Roman.

  I stood outside room three, the black lacquered number staring back at me. I took a deep breath and knocked. I didn't hear anything, and it was perfectly possible he'd gone to bed, so I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could decipher any sounds of movement. I couldn't make anything out, so I flattened myself against the wood, pressing my ear harder to the cool, stiff surface.

  The door jerked open, and I pitched, body sprawling, into the room. Arms scooped me up before I went splat on the floor. Big, strong arms. The kind you take home to meet mama.

  "Ambush people often?" Roman said. He planted my feet on the ground, and I brushed the arms of my muumuu nightgown, trying to save a little face. I closed the door behind me.

  I cleared my throat. "Sorry. I didn't know if you were still awake, and I was trying to hear if you were."

  He crossed barrel arms over a marble chest. "Is that so?"

  I nodded, doing my best not to stare. My gaze brushed over him. Roman wore a pair of loose pajama pants that hugged his slim hips. And. That. Was. All.

  His smooth skin gleamed in the low lamplight. A few curling hairs sprouted from his sternum, but other than that, the plane of his flesh was scythe clean.

  Let me tell you, the view was spectacular. It was like looking at the Grand Canyon for the first time and seeing God's handiwork.

  "Listen, there's something I need to tell you," I said.

  "Your hair's down," he murmured.

  "What?" I tugged at my loose locks. I had taken my ponytail out when I got ready for bed and had forgotten about it. "Yeah, I guess it is."

  Roman traced his fingers down a tendril that rested on my collar. I shivered. "It's the first time I've seen it like this," he mused.

  "It is?" Was it a national holiday or something? I kept it in a high ponytail nearly all the time because it was easier to manage—I didn't realize having it down was such a big deal.

  Roman stared at my hair as if mesmerized. It's a pretty dark chocolate color and everything, but it's nothing to write home about. He took a step forward, cutting the space between us. I held my breath. There was a reason why I'd come. I needed to tell him something, but what was it? My nerve endings zinged as Roman's body heat shimmered onto me.

  He leaned over, whispered in my ear, "Why did you come?"

  I tilted my face toward his. "Pearbottom's here." Oh my gosh, that was right! Roman was in danger. I wrenched back. "He said he's taking over the investigation. Roman, you have to stay hidden, or we have to sneak you out, or you have to leave. I don't know, but he can't find you here."

  He nodded and stalked back to his bed. "I know. Em sent me a message."

  "She did? How?"

  "She's a witch, remember?"

  Okay, stupid question on my part. "So what are you going to do?"

  He crossed his arms. "Wait it out while you keep me company."

  "Ha-ha. Very funny. I only came to warn you. I've got to go back."

  He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin and sank to his bed. "You sure about that? I'd say we have a lot of catching up to do."

  "What's there to catch up on? I've been making dresses for my boutique, living life—nothing's really changed."

  "You're not going to ask me how I'm adjusting to Silver Springs?"

  Yes, my heart yearns to know. "No. Not at all. You look happy and healthy." Boy, did he ever.

  "I'd be happier if you'd give me a chance."

  "Oh, would you?"

  "I would."

  A long pause as we stared at each other. No one moved. No one peeped. "I guess I'll go back to bed," I said.

  "So is that your answer?"

  "What?"

  "No? Are you saying no, you won't give
me a chance?"

  I sighed and let my head fall back to my shoulders. "I don't know what I'm saying. I just—" From outside, Em's voice drifted into the room. More than likely she was talking to Pearbottom. "Sorry. Gotta go. Stay in here. Don't get arrested or hanged or whatever the council will do when they get ahold of you."

  I slipped from the room and pressed my back against the door. I closed my eyes, inhaled and tried not to think about getting hurt, about putting my heart on the line and having that tether severed by an uncaring man.

  "Jonathan, I promise I've got everythin' under control. The local police have been here, but they're suggestin' it was poison, not witchcraft."

  Em. I rounded the corner and sneaked a peek. The inspector—or detective or whatever Pearbottom called himself—hovered by the stairwell, clutching the railing as Em directed him toward the front door.

  "But a witch was involved," he stammered.

  Em laid her redneck accent on thick. "Don't worry. I'll make sure we find out everythin' we need."

  "But Em—"

  "Ain't I your queen?"

  He gave a solemn nod.

  She crossed her arms. "I ain't forgotten about you throwin' me in jail, Jonathan."

  He paled. I snickered. All eyes turned to me.

  There was nowhere to hide as Pearbottom's gaze impaled me like a searing poker. "Well, Miss Apel. I don't think we were properly introduced last time we met," he said. "That time you had me throw our queen in jail under suspicion of murder."

  Em's back stiffened. Does someone have to remind me of that every five seconds? I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Nice to meet you, Detective."

  He sniffed, his parrot-shaped nose lifting in the air. "It's Inspector."

  "Of course it is," I murmured. "Anyhoo, nice to meet you. See you later."

  "It seems to me," he said, his voice stopping me like a stone. "That the last time our paths crossed, you were also in the company of a certain fugitive. A certain Roman Bane."

  My blood froze in my veins. I shivered. "I remember."

  Fire danced in his eyes. He seemed amused, as if he could tell by looking at me that I knew exactly where Roman was. "It's too bad he disappeared then." He took a step toward me. "You know, it's illegal to harbor a criminal."

  I nodded. "If I see one, I'll let you know where they are. Now I'm off to bed."

  "Yes, you be sure and let me know," he said in a dark, ominous voice.

  I tiptoed past them. Em shot me a glare of death for some unknown reason. Jarred by the encounter, I returned to my room and nestled under the bedcovers. At least one thing was for certain—Roman wouldn't be arrested, at least not tonight.

  But then again, I also wouldn't be kissing him anytime soon. I sighed.

  Can't have everything.

  ***

  Breakfast proved to be a sad, quiet affair. Few said anything as we made our way down the buffet line. It was a sultry morning, and the staff of the manor had set up seating outdoors. My family clustered at a table. Grandma saw me and waved like she was a castaway on Gilligan's Island flagging down a rescue plane. I waved back and kept going.

  I peered through the sea of women sitting with their heads down, their mouths chewing, until I found who I was looking for.

  Margaret Duncan sat alone, well apart from the rest of the guests. "I'm so sorry about Loretta," I said.

  With a hurried hand, she wiped tears from her eyes. "Thank you."

  "May I join you?" I asked.

  She nodded.

  I set my plate of fruit and eggs on the iron table and pulled up a chair. As I sat, I realized I had no idea what to say. "Can I get you anything?"

  "No, I'm all right." She honked her nose into a wimpy-looking piece of tissue.

  "So you knew my parents?" I asked.

  Margaret sniffled. "Good people. I liked them very much. I'm sorry they're gone."

  I gave her a sympathetic smile. "How's Sumi handling it?"

  Margaret grimaced. "Says someone wants to kill her now. She won't even come out of her room." Margaret paused, staring past me. "I saw that bush yesterday. They must have cut all the roses off it."

  I twisted my neck in the direction that she was talking about. A row of potted ferns squatted where she stared. "Do you mean the ferns?"

  "Yes, there were roses on them yesterday."

  Ooookaaay. Weird.

  "Sumi's right. Someone probably does want her head." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "In fact, I'm sure half the witches here are glad Loretta's dead and gone."

  I dropped my fork.

  "It's true," she continued. "Even if Loretta hadn't ruined them in the paper, I'm sure they're all aware of the rumors."

  My ears pricked. "I don't think these women are interested in something silly like conjecture. They're too busy minding their own business."

  She scoffed. "Rumors tittle and tattle. Tattle and pittle. That's how it goes. I suppose that means you never heard it?"

  "I didn't, no."

  "It's really very terrible."

  "I'm sure."

  She leaned over. "Ghastly."

  "You don't say."

  She knuckled the mascara smudge under an eye, smearing the ink across her cheek. "I'd never heard one that was worse."

  "It couldn't be that bad."

  "You know, I really did like your parents."

  I clenched my fists. "Thank you." But can you please get on with spilling the information?

  She stared down her nose at me. "It's a bad, horrendous rumor. The worst. I've heard it here, heard it there. Heard it everywhere."

  "Heard what?" I asked, my patience thinning.

  "Heard women say that Loretta was—"

  "Everyone! Can I have your attention?"

  Dang it. Right when I was getting the good stuff, Roman interrupted everything. I craned my neck to see what he wanted.

  He stood in the middle of the garden. "I know plenty of you planned on going home today. Given yesterday's unfortunate event, I need everyone to stay here until the situation is resolved."

  Some of the witches grumbled.

  "I know this is an inconvenience, but seeing as we're dealing with a sensitive situation, I know you won't mind."

  More grumbling.

  He took off his signature sunglasses. His green eyes pierced the crowd, shredding the complaints to mere whimpers. No one wanted to get on his bad side; that was for sure.

  "And to ensure my wishes are complied with, Em's going to seal us in."

  A few gasps, but no one argued. Some of the staff workers bustled about, refilling drinks and gathering plates, completely oblivious to what was going on.

  "How are they doing that?" I asked.

  "Doing what?" Margaret said.

  "The workers. They're acting as if they didn't hear what he said about being sealed in here. Don't they know anything that's going on?"

  She laughed. "No, dear. They've been spelled the same as everyone else."

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  She gave me a sly grin. "The workers are spelled to ignore any mention of magic. It's the same for the witches here. None of them realize that detective is…" Margaret wiggled her fingers toward him. "They don't realize he is…you know, that criminal…" She snapped her fingers. "Roman Bane! That's his name. Whenever someone looks at him, they've been spelled to see a different man."

  I swallowed. "They don't know who he is?"

  Margaret laughed. "Of course not. If these ninnies knew that, they'd have him arrested in a minute."

  SIX

  My jaw fell into my lap. "How do you know that? That it's Roman?"

  She looked at her watch. "Must be going."

  Margaret rose and scurried away like a cockroach who'd just been discovered hiding in a cabinet. I deflated back into the seat and tossed my napkin on top of the table.

  "Want some company?"

  I glanced up. The glare from the early morning sun blinded me. I raised my hand, shielding my eyes while Stormy sat.r />
  "Looks like you got on the good side of Margaret Duncan."

  "Yeah," I murmured, chewing my lip. "Looks like it. Hey, let me ask you a question."

  She forked a blob of eggs and said, "Certainly."

  "How is it okay that Em is spelling the workers here? I mean, I assume she's doing it so that they don't know that we're witches and that a witch just got murdered."

  Stormy smirked. "Like all things with witches, the rules only apply to some people, not all of them."

  "Oh? I didn't realize that."

  She folded her hands over her plate and rested her chin in them. Her shock of white bangs fringed her eyes. "You'll see. As you get to know this world more, you'll see exactly what I'm talking about."

  "Good to know."

  "So did Margaret tell you why Loretta was killed?"

  I balked. "No."

  Stormy picked up her fork and shoveled the eggs around her plate. "Oh? She didn't confirm the big rumor?"

  I tried not to trip over my own tongue as I said, "No. What?"

  She tossed a bundle of sleek, dark hair over one shoulder. "Loretta was stealing magic."

  ***

  I found Roman in the dining room. He was interviewing a witch whose name I didn't know, but who stared at me as if I'd killed her cat the day before. I didn't know if she was mad that I was waiting by the door, gently tapping my foot so that they'd hurry the heck up, or if she genuinely thought I'd killed her sweet precious Puss Puss.

  Course, all that hinged on whether she actually owned a cat.

  Finally they finished up. The woman sashayed out of the room, glowering at me the whole time. I pounced on Roman as soon as she was out of earshot.

  "Did you know that Loretta was stealing magic?"

  Roman cupped my elbow and guided me across the dining room to a small alcove. "Who told you that?"

  "Does it matter?"

  He nodded. "Yes, it matters."

  "I don't like to give up my sources."

  "Dylan, we're talking about a woman who was murdered, not who's taking Johnny to the high school prom."

  Uh. He was right. So I told him. "But she said it was a big rumor. Have you heard it?"

  He tucked a strand of hair behind one ear in a gesture that made my bones liquefy. "I had heard something about it, but nothing so outright."