Witches Get Stitches Page 6

  “And will they be at all concerned if she’s only been missing for a few hours after a shopping excursion?”

  Bel huffed. “Maybe not, but if we called Officer Nelson, or even Sandwich, I bet one of them would hear us out. They’d be concerned because they’re our friends. Maybe we could do it anonymously…”

  “They’re Stephania’s friends. Not ours. Not yet, anyway, Belfry,” Win retorted dryly.

  “And tell them what, Belfry?” I asked. I was sort of with Win on this one. Not about him going to Seattle, but about finding my body. “Win’s mostly right on this. Both Dana and Sandwich would certainly become suspicious if someone they don’t know calls them up out of the blue and tells them I’m missing. They don’t know a thing about Win. We haven’t told anyone about him. We have a lot of secrets I’m not willing to expose just yet, and if we get involved with the police, you know darn well at the very least, Dana will do what he does. Look into Win. We don’t need that right now. And let’s not forget, for all intents and purposes, Win is essentially his brother Balthazar. He has his fingerprints, his DNA and his criminal history. He’d probably land in jail once they looked him up in the system.”

  “But letting Spy Guy go off to Seattle broken and weak is a better option, Boss?” Bel asked, his question saucy.

  As Win tore through the only garments he had, a bunch of pajama bottoms and T-shirts, he discarded one after the other, clearly finding none of them acceptable.

  Suddenly, his head popped up and the determined look in his eyes deepened. He began to limp his way to the door and down the hall with Bel and Whiskey hot on his heels. Strike chose to meander his way along behind them, pecking at the carpet runner.

  At the entrance to my bedroom, he flung the door open with a glimmer of triumph on his face and headed straight for my walk-in closet.

  “Fancy an evening dress, Winterbutt?” Bel taunted. “Maybe a nice wraparound?”

  But Win ignored him and I remained silent as he plowed through my closet until he came across a pair of shorts—a ridiculous pair of basketball shorts in neon orange with a black stripe down each side.

  I’d grabbed them at a Foot Locker seventy-five-percent-off sale years ago, when I didn’t have money to spare. I used to wear them due to their comfort and stretchability when I first started doing the Win Workout way back when he’d had me in spy training, after my first butt whooping.

  Just a few weeks ago, I’d put them in the pile for Goodwill because they were much too big for me now.

  He raised them skyward as though they were Simba and he was Rafiki in Lion King-esque victory. “Aha! I knew I remembered seeing you make a pile for Goodwill! Now turn your back, Dove, and give me some privacy, please.”

  I did as asked, but I didn’t do it without protest. “Win, this is crazy! You can’t go outside in shorts. It’s freezing cold and you’ve been very ill. I hate to keep reminding you—”

  “Then don’t,” he chastised as I heard him grunt and struggle to pull the shorts on. “I’ve been exposed to far worse. For instance, try a mission in Antarctica at minus forty-nine degrees Celsius in nothing more than a down jacket and some moccasins—”

  Arkady, who’d remained quiet ’til now, blustered, “Is not true, Zero! You have on galoshes.”

  “You may turn around now, Stephania.” Then he gave us a half-crooked smile. “Was it galoshes, old friend? Either way, conditions have been far worse than wearing some fashion-gone-awry shorts on a chilly day. Now, a sweater. Surely you have an oversized one you like to lounge around in? The ones you keep on hand for what you call your bloated days, yes?”

  I rolled my eyes as he pulled open drawers and tore through them until he found my ugly Christmas sweater. The one I’d received at a white elephant party back from my days in Paris, Texas.

  He held it against his heaving chest—obviously winded, but incredibly proud—and man, was it ever ugly. Though, it was definitely big enough for him.

  The bulky pink sweater had a mint-green felt Christmas Tree sewn on the front, covered in stuffed candy canes and puffy red and blue ornaments, but the best part about it was the trim around the sleeves and the neck made of even pinker marabou-like feathers. Not to be outdone, the back of it, embroidered in light green, read Ho-Ho-Ho. It used to light up, but had given up the ghost when Whiskey managed to pull the battery pack off.

  But Win didn’t appear at all fazed by the outlandish sweater, leading me to believe he’d indeed been in much more dire straits during his spy days. He shrugged his way into it without making a single crack, giving me a glimpse of some of the scars he had suffered—or maybe it was better to say Balthazar had suffered.

  Then he grabbed one of my laughable snowflake-covered knit hats with earflaps and pulled it over his head, the white pom-poms on the end of the flaps were attached by strings bouncing about his collarbone.

  Just before leaving my closet, he pulled an old purple and green bargain-basement purse from a hook on the wall, a large square monstrosity with gold zippers, and slung it around his neck, driving his arm through the shoulder strap.

  I think, up to that point anyway, and despite the severity of the situation, we’d all been so disoriented, so stunned, we hadn’t had time to react. But as Win stumbled his way out of my closet and back down the hall, the fluffy pink feathers shedding as he went, we broke into raucous laughter.

  “You look like crazy person, Zero! Why you do not buy clothes instead?”

  He limped his way back into his bedroom and frowned as he looked to the floor. “We don’t have time for that, Arkady. If in fact Stephania is lying somewhere, quite possibly hurt, there’s no time to waste. And as someone—someone quite full of himself—has reminded me, I have no money.”

  Once Belfry had finished gasping for breath and was capable of forming a question, he countered with, “Yeah, about that money. How do you plan to get to Seattle, buddy? With the fairy wings Stevie wore to that nutty charity costume ball last May?”

  Win jammed his feet into his insanely expensive cashmere slippers and grabbed my phone with a sly smile. “Already handled. Stevie does have an Uber account, does she not?”

  That shut us all up, and kept us shut up until Win—in all his basketball, ugly-sweater, knit-hat-with-pom-poms glory—left the bedroom and headed toward the stairs.

  “Win!” I yelled as I watched him perch at the top of the stairs, cane in one hand, my phone in the other. “Please don’t do this! Please. Bel is right, we’ll find another way. Please listen to me—to us!”

  He hadn’t done the stairs yet. Nurse Gloria had refused his requests to even try at this stage of his recovery. My stomach tossed and turned in terror. If he fell, I’d never forgive myself for being talked into leaving him alone…

  However, Win sucked in his cheeks and skimmed his foot over the edge of the top step to the tune of the sharp breath of fear Arkady tried to muffle.

  “I am the only way, Stephania. There is no way I’m going to allow your body to lie in wait for tragedy, or worse, true death. Not as long as I’m still breathing. You don’t have to like it. You don’t even have to participate until the time comes when you must launch your lovely soul back into its equally lovely shell. But this will happen,” he groused as he took each step with tight lips and perspiration dotting his forehead for the effort.

  My heart chugged with love for him, for his willingness to do anything to find me. Still, the last thing I wanted to do was risk his health in the process, but we didn’t have much choice.

  “They say my Uber is here. We don’t want to make,” he paused, holding up the cell phone and squinting at the screen, “Gooch wait a second longer than he has to, do we?”

  If heart attacks were in the offing, I was surely a candidate as I watched Win navigate those stairs, his legs—gorgeously muscled, but shaky and weak—almost buckling under him while he white-knuckled the banister and balanced the other side of his body with his cane.

  But he did it. He’d navigated his way down
those stairs like the true champion he is, leaving us all to breathe a sigh of relief in unison when he leaned against the front door to once more catch his breath.

  Belfry zipped down the stairs at breakneck speed and caught up with him at our front door, landing on his shoulder. “If you’re determined to do this, you stubborn old cantankerous goat, you’re taking me with you. Like it or lump it. Now open up the pocket of that hideous purse and make sure you don’t squish me. I’m your only hope for survival on this insane teacup ride you seem so determined to take.”

  Win didn’t utter a word as he shoved the cell phone in one shorts pocket, and pulled open the pocket of the purse for Belfry to enter. Then he swung the front door wide, ordering Whiskey, who patiently stood at the bottom of the stairs, to mind Strike and the house.

  Another precarious flight of steps down our wide front porch and he was on the sidewalk, huffing and puffing under the rain-swollen clouds, ready to burst wide open on his mostly unprotected head.

  “Win,” I began, hoping to reason with him when he lifted an arm to wave to the Uber driver, Gooch. “Please don’t do this. Let us figure out something else! I mean, what about my parents? We could always ask them!”

  He stopped and turned on his heel, squinting his eyes. “Stephania, when last did you hear from your mother?”

  I waffled. “Er, last I knew, she was spending the winter in…” Oh, shoot. I couldn’t remember because the location changed so rapidly.

  My mother’s good intentions to mend our relationship had remained steady, for the most part. She’d also been on a journey to mend metaphorical fences with the universe. Thus, she’d been doing all manner of volunteer work all over the world and had been mostly out of touch. Without my powers, I didn’t know how to contact her unless she contacted me. We really needed to work on a better system of networking.

  “Exactly,” Win reminded with a curt nod, his skin under the gloomy skies still too pale for my taste. “In other words, you don’t know where she is. And your father?”

  “On vacation at an undisclosed location,” I muttered. Which really meant he was having some sort of “procedure” to keep his movie star looks intact. I loved my dad, I really did, but he was immortal, for the love of bananas. He didn’t need a brow lift.

  Although…wait! I did have the necklace he gave me to use if I ever needed to contact him.

  “Wait!” I yelped, touching my neck. Then I groaned. I’d taken it off to shower this morning and forgotten to put it back on. It only worked for me…

  Win tilted his head and shot me a cocky smirk. “Your necklace, yes? On the bathroom sink, as I recall.”

  Oh, I wanted to slug that smug spy look right off his face! I balled my fists and clenched my teeth to keep from cussing a blue streak.

  Instead, as I watched him turn on his heel and head toward Gooch’s car, a nicely maintained red Ford Fiesta, I measured my words, trying to keep them even and calm. “There has to be a better way, Win. There has to be.”

  But much in the way I’d once done, he ignored me so as not to appear crazy to Gooch. He simply shook his head and grit his teeth, making his way to the car.

  “You look ridiculous, Spy Guy,” I taunted, thinking maybe vanity was the way to make him rethink this crazy scheme. He prided himself on his appearance, which was why he was willing to let Justin Bieber shop for him rather than take a chance on me.

  Maybe his ego was the way to knock his knees out from under him. “Who’s going to talk to a guy in a furry pink Christmas sweater, knee-high dress socks and cashmere slippers, huh? You look like you’re the butt of some college prank, but way too old to be in college.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his outlandish shorts, which were too tight, by the by, he whipped out my Bluetooth earbud and stuck it in his ear, then pressed his fingertip to it.

  “Feels just like old times, eh?” he joked with a wink.

  “It’s a Bluetooth. Not a telecom. You’re not a spy anymore, Win. This isn’t an episode of Mission Impossible!” I goaded again, mentally sticking my tongue out at him.

  His raven eyebrow rose, ever the unshakeable. “On the contrary, Dove. I simply meant our roles were reversed, and now I have to avoid appearing as though I’m mad enough to talk to myself.”

  Arkady, obviously still leaning toward pulling the blankets up over his head and hiding from this mess we were in, barked a laugh and nudged my ribs. “Is funny, Zero is, yes?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Yeah. So funny. So funny he’s going to end up back in the hospital for this stunt,” I yelled down at him. “Win, I’m telling you, this is bananapants—”

  Out of nowhere, a car shot up the driveway, screeching to a halt behind Gooch, who had gotten out of the vehicle in all his lanky young-adult-ness and rushed up to offer Win assistance. Gooch had a kind if not emotionless face, with the skin of a newborn baby and thoughtful eyes.

  “Uh-oh,” Arkady grumbled. “Officer Stuffy Pants is at your service.”

  Oh, dear. Indeed, it was a patrol car containing my ever diligent, yet often rigid friend and sometime foe, Dana Nelson. Win had liked him from afar, and even greatly admired him, but how was he going to explain himself to my vigilant rule-follower up close and in person?

  And what the heck was he doing here, anyway? He’d flown up the driveway as though the house were on fire.

  “Wiiin,” I warned, my lips suddenly very dry and my stomach in a knot. “Be very careful what you say here. Very careful. What you say will have an impact on the future going forward as a resident of Eb Falls.”

  But Win flapped a hand upward at me, and then toward Gooch, who wore a baseball cap backward, slouchy light blue jeans, high-top sneakers, and looked like he was all of twelve.

  Dana threw his long legs out of the patrol car, straightening his tall frame and brushing the invisible lint from his dark trousers as he approached Win. He had his “I’m in charge” pants on for sure, his strides commanding and confident.

  Win slapped a welcoming smile on his face and held out a hand, using the other to adjust the purse. “Officer Nelson, I presume?”

  If Dana was surprised he knew his name, he didn’t show it. His face was a mask of unreadable, but he took Win’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

  And despite his outrageous clothing, despite how thoroughly nuts he looked, Win straightened his shoulders and stood as tall as Dana, even if it was really killing him on the inside because his muscles were so weak.

  Dana lifted an eyebrow in that skeptical Dana way and crossed his forearms over his chest, waiting. “You are?”

  “Crispin, my good man. And the pleasure is all mine. All mine, fine sir.”

  I gulped and gripped Arkady’s arm, my pulse choppy, my heart pounding. “Win! Are you kidding me? Shut up! You can’t possibly plan to use your real name! Are you insane? I thought we were going to look into a new identity with that guy Mandrake?”

  “Hush, malutka. Zero knows what he is doing. Let him,” he flapped a beefy hand at the scene playing out before us, “do.”

  Sure. He knew what he was doing. Mr. Super Spy had it all in the bag, didn’t he? Master at deception and all. I understood that he could play a part at the drop of a hat.

  Except, people in Eb Falls weren’t going to take kindly to Fifty Shades of Winterbottom. They wouldn’t like it if he made a mockery of them instead of being his authentic self, and I know that sounds incredibly corny and maybe even a little too 2018, but it was true.

  The people of Eb Falls were genuine, and they wouldn’t take kindly to a stranger conning them no matter how handsome and charming. So whatever Win said from here on out had to at least be said with a modicum of sincerity.

  As Dana sized him up from head to toe, he narrowed his eyes, zeroing in on Win’s face but saying nothing.

  Like, nothing. Absolute silence. He remained so silent, the very slight pitter-patter of rain began to sound like pellets showering down from the sky.

  So Win did what I suppose Win had o
nce done when he’d played a part. He slapped him on the back as though they were old friends and smiled wide.

  “Walk with Gooch and I, won’t you, Officer Nelson? I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you from our mutual friend, Stevie. She truly is one of your biggest fans.”

  Dana pursed his lips in clear skepticism. “You’re claiming to know Stevie?”

  Win barked an amicable laugh, giving Dana a look of wide-eyed surprise. “Of course I know Stevie. You don’t think I’d dress like this for just anyone, do you? Especially feeling the way I do with a bum knee on this day as damp as a dish rag after a Sunday supper.” He held up his cane for emphasis. “We’re old friends, chap, and this—this utter abomination of a sweater—is all part of a little private joke we share.”

  Dana blinked, but he did indeed begin to walk with Win to Gooch’s car just as that smattering of rain became a bit heavier. “How do you know Stevie?”

  “Well, from Texas, of course. You do know she lived in Paris for quite some time, you being such a good friend and all, yes? You went to school together, didn’t you or am I mistaken? She speaks so highly of you, Officer Nelson, and of course, your colleague…Mayonnaise, is it?”

  Dana’s lips lifted in an almost smile and he bobbed his head. “Sandwich. It’s Sandwich and she went to school with him. It’s his nickname from school.”

  Win put his hand to his heart and nodded, his eyes warm and gleaming. “Of course! Sandwich. Names aren’t always my specialty, but I do remember conversations quite well, and we’ve had many revolving around you, and her respect and admiration for the two of you.”

  My mouth fell open as Dana’s face completely relaxed. I’m not sure what it was. I don’t think it was the words Win used that put Dana at ease. Not at all. They were just average words, after all. Words anyone could spin.

  It was how Win spoke. It was the charisma he virtually threw at you in handfuls of invisible charm. It was the way he looked you in the eye and welcomed you into his space, invited you to have a conversation even though you had no clue you wanted any part of one—you suddenly just did.