“No. Still don't.” She didn't see any point in lying.

“He never could figure that out. Why you wouldn't go out with him.”

Madison blinked at him. “He told you that?”

Josh shook his head. “Not exactly. But I knew. He thought you'd be … he thought you'd say yes.”

Madison snorted. “Come on. I don't think having me as a … as a friend was ever high on his list.”

Josh licked his lips. “You're wrong. I think it really bugged him. You always want what you can't have. And people— people listen to him, you know?”

First, she thought, Why are we talking about Brice Roper? And then it came to her, a revelation. “What are you trying to tell me? That he was behind the…people calling me a witch?”

“Well. It didn't take much to convince people. I mean, you're kind of different. You dress like a gypsy and always walk around with a frown on your face like you're mad at the world.” He held up his hand. “I'm sorry, but it's true. And you were always painting all those pictures, and you lived up on the mountain in that spooky old house.”

“It's not spooky,” she retorted, then shut her mouth. Who cared what everybody thought?

Josh shrugged. “Your grandmother read the cards and hexed people, and your mom is … kind of wild.”

“Shut up, Josh,” Madison said, feeling the blood rush into her face. She turned away, staring out through the window at a boarded-up storefront across the street.

But Josh would not be silenced. “So one night a bunch of us guys were talking, and some of us had asked you out and been turned down. So Brice just started saying, what if, you know? And we were cracking up, we couldn't help it, he just has a way of putting things. So. I guess we … I guess we all kind of got it started. We put out notes and started texting people and then it sort of took on a life of its own, you know?”

Madison swung around and took a step forward and Josh flinched, like he thought she might hit him or spell him or something. “Why do you think I turned them down when they asked me out? Because some guys like to brag about things that never happened. All except you. I knew…you would never … I thought you …” She stopped, unwilling to trust herself to go on. It was really ironic that Brice Roper with his Persuasive hands and sleazy layer of wizardly charm would be accusing her of being a witch, when she didn't have a stitch of magic in her.

No magic of her own, anyway.

Josh cleared his throat, looking like somebody with his hand in a vise who can't wait to be released. “Anyway. I'm really sorry. I never believed you burnt anything down. I've been wanting to tell you.”

She cleared her throat. “Well. Thanks. I guess.”

“Want me to carry that out for you?” he asked, handing her the receipt for the fertilizer.

“I can manage.” She rested the bag of fertilizer on her hip and turned toward the door.

“Um. Maddie? You know, prom's coming up.”

She stiffened. “Josh, I …”

He rushed on. “Since I heard you were back, I've been meaning to call you, but…well, you don't have a phone. I wondered if you might want to go with me. As friends, I mean. You could see everyone.”

He thought he was offering her a gift, a chance to hold her head up and show everybody they didn't drive her off. But she realized she didn't care what they thought. Not anymore. Madison shook her head. “I don't think so.” She left him standing behind the counter, hands hanging at his sides.

Grace and John Robert were ten minutes late for their rendezvous at the Bluebird. And when they showed up, Brice Roper was with them.

“Hello, Madison,” he said, sliding right into a seat at her table. He was wearing jeans and a cotton sweater and a fleece-lined leather jacket that definitely didn't come from Robertson's. “I ran into Grace and John Robert at the five-and-dime.”

Madison gripped the arms of her chair, her heart thumping. Josh Hazelton's revelations were fresh in her mind. But then, Josh hadn't told her anything about Brice that she didn't already know.

“I'm surprised you didn't hustle them off to Child Welfare,” she said. “Being as I left them on their own in town and all.”

Brice signaled the server. “Look, I said I was sorry.”

“Actually, I don't think you did.”

He shrugged. “Well, I meant to, anyway. So, to make up for it, I invited Grace and John Robert to come over next week and go riding.”

“Let us go, Maddie, please?” John Robert was practically bouncing in place, gripping her hand. The boy didn't know how to hold a proper grudge.

Grace was different. She wouldn't have forgiven Brice Roper for putting them in foster care. But she loved horses with the passion only a ten-year-old girl could muster. She'd mucked out stalls the summer before in trade for riding lessons. And the Ropers had the prettiest horses in the county. If there was a way to win Gracie over, this was it. She reverberated with indecision, vibrating like a plucked string.

Madison didn't want to be beholden in any way to the Ropers. And she didn't want Grace spending time with the wizard Brice Roper for reasons of her own.

“Absolutely not,” Madison said, glaring at Brice. “I can't believe you'd even suggest that. Your horses are for experienced riders. They're not used to kids.”

“But you know I can ride, Maddie,” Grace protested. Like usual, if Maddie said no, Grace said yes. “I took lessons all last summer with Mr. Ragland. He said I was a natural born horsewoman.”

“There's no better teacher around than George Ragland,” Brice said. “And J.R.'ll be fine. We always have kids' horses around for the cousins.”

“Pleeeeease,” John Robert begged, hanging on Madison's arm.

“I said no, and I mean it,” Madison said, dislodging John Robert. She looked up at Brice. “You turn the kids over to the county because Mama couldn't find a babysitter, and then you want me to let them risk life and limb …”

“No problem,” Brice cut in, just as she was winding up. “I'll just ask Carlene.”

And that shut Madison up, like he knew it would. Carlene wouldn't hold grudges about court dates and child welfare. Carlene hadn't had to drop out of school and come back home to bail out the kids. If Brice asked Carlene, she'd let them go in a New York minute. She liked cozying up to the Ropers' money.

Madison sat frozen, cheeks flaming. Even Grace and J.R. knew she'd been outmaneuvered. Grace looked from Brice to Madison, her brow furrowed. “Don't worry, Maddie,” she said softly. “We'll be real careful.”

“I know you will, honey,” Madison said through stiff lips.

“Great,” Brice said. The server was hovering and he scanned the menu. “We'll start with a platter of wings and onion rings,” he said. “Root beer for everyone. And then whatever else they want.” He looked over at Madison as she opened her mouth to object. “My treat.”

No, she thought. This was supposed to be my treat.

The server hurried off.

“We've got horses that you could ride, Maddie,” Brice said, putting his hot hand over hers on the table. “Why don't you come?”

She ripped her hand free. “I'm busy all week.”

“How about next week?”

“I'm busy every week.” She stood. “Matter of fact, I forgot something at the hardware store.” She nodded to the kids. “Go ahead and have lunch, if you want. I'll meet you over there.”

But Brice just grinned at Grace and John Robert like they were co-conspirators. “We'll win your big sister over yet.”

To Brice it was a game he was destined to win. But he had no idea the danger he was in. If Maddie'd had a gun, she would have shot him.

Chapter Fourteen Gone South

“Alicia! Your young man—what's his name again?” Aunt Millisandra pointed her bejeweled hand at Jason, who tried hard not to duck.

“Jason,” Leesha said, perched on the edge of her chair as if she were ready to spring. “His name's Jason, Aunt Milli.”

They were sitting in a stuffy parlor decorated with highly flammable pine roping and a dried-out Christmas tree. The only light came from stubs of candles nestled dangerously in the greens.

“You're sure it's not Jasper? I used to know a Jasper. Jasper DeVilliers. He was French, a bit underpowered, if you know what I mean, but quite the ladies' man.” Aunt Millisandra fixed Jason with her purple-shadowed eyes, as if expecting to extract a confession.

Jason shook his head. “Jason,” he said.

“A peculiar name, Jason. Would you like another cookie, young man?” Millisandra extended a tray of charred and soggy shortbread. They'd started out okay, but then she'd set fire to them while trying to heat up the tea and had to extinguish them with lemonade.

“Um. That's okay. I've eaten lots already.”

Leesha's Aunt Millisandra reminded Jason of one of those dried-up insect carcasses you sometimes found—fragile, like she might crack open if you touched her. She was about a million years old, the richest woman in town—and a wizard who'd lost some key cards from her mental deck. Spending time with her was about as chancy as sitting in the middle of a bonfire with a crate of cherry bombs on your lap.

“More tea, then?”

“No, thanks.” He looked at his watch. Nine p.m. “Whoa, look at the time. I had no idea.” He stood. “Thanks for the tea and all.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” Aunt Milli said, waving her hand and shattering glasses all around the room.

“I'll walk you out,” Leesha said, jumping to her feet.

In the foyer, she grabbed his hand. “Sorry. I thought she'd be asleep by now!” she hissed.

“Guess not.”