Would-Be Witch by Kimberly Frost Page B

wanted to, but I couldn’t help that. And no one in my family could actually tell what the list really warned against anyway. Maybe the name Lyons had been a mistake. Maybe it was supposed to be “lions” and meant I should never go on safari. Okay, it was a stretch, but, under the circumstances, you couldn’t blame me for trying.
     
     
     
    Bryn had the car wait while I ran into the house and dried off and found the paper with the spell on it. I put on a pair of jeans, my fastest sneakers, and my lucky Longhorns T-shirt that I wore when they won the Rose Bowl.
    Bryn glanced at the faded orange and quirked an eyebrow.
    “What?” I demanded. “This is a black-tie spell-casting?”
    “Your new outfit’s practical, but you can’t expect me to view it as an improvement over the dress.”
    I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes and forced the frown from my face. “Sorry. I’ve still got the jitters.”
    “No need to apologize.”
    The driver slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt, causing us all to lurch forward.
    Lennox grimaced and murmured, “He’s fired.”
    “What happened?” Bryn asked.
    “That leopard’s in the road,” the driver said.
    “It’s not a leopard,” I said, opening the door. “Right?” I asked, looking pointedly at Bryn.
    “No. Not a leopard.”
    “Of course not,” I said, stepping out. “Mercutio,” I called.
    Merc sprang toward the car, startling me. He did look a lot like a leopard in the low light, but with prettier, rounder eyes than the leopards you see on Animal Planet .
    “Will you stop creeping around like a cat?” I grumbled, but reached down to run a hand over his smooth fur. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
    Merc hissed at the backseat of the car.
    “Yeah, I know. You smell dog—lots of them. You wouldn’t believe what happened to us. I’m glad you didn’t come,” I said, climbing in. “Come on, Merc.”
    He hopped gingerly into the car and looked around before lying down on my feet. Occasionally during the drive to Bryn’s house, Merc swiped the air in the car in a way that told me he could sense some things that I couldn’t. Just one more reason I needed my cat.
    When we got to the house, Bryn left Merc and me in the foyer while he walked Lennox to some downstairs guest bedroom. I was in a hurry to get on with things, but Lennox did look like he might just go on and collapse at any minute, so I couldn’t blame Bryn for walking him.
    When Bryn came back, I could tell by the way he moved that he was in pain. I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a stern look.
    “Lennox needs to go to a hospital. And so do you.” It was the third time I’d said so since we’d left the meeting.
    “He won’t go.”
    “You could make him go. We could’ve driven to a hospital like I suggested on the drive back. Not like he could’ve stopped us.”
    “You think they treat a lot of werewolf wounds?”
    “I think they treat a lot of dog bites, and that’s what he’s got, basically.”
    “Sure, and a hurricane is just a breeze with a little extra wind,” he said as he walked to the big staircase that looked like an extra set from Titanic .
    “Well, kind of,” I said mock cheerfully, just to be contrary. “And I still say they could help him.”
    “Come on,” he said, waving to me.
    I looked skeptically at the stairs. “Why?”
    “You want help with your spell or not?” He continued to climb the stairs, not bothering to look back at me for an answer.
    I glanced at Mercutio as I headed after Bryn. “Are you coming?”
    Merc didn’t budge.
    I sighed. “Sometimes you’re not the best sidekick,” I hissed and jogged up the stairs.
    Bryn waited for me next to a door.
    “So my spell—” I said.
    “We’ll talk about it after I take a shower. Though I’m sure you’re of the opinion that a dab of Neosporin and a Band-Aid would do—”
    “I never said it wasn’t a bad wound. Those werewolves are a real menace. What are you