Hold Tight

go back to normal.

I grabbed Caden’s wrist, stopping him from following Dad, and whispered, “Tell him you love the Rolling Stones and he’ll hire you on the spot.” Just then, I caught a whiff of musk and smoke. A familiar tug—the one I got when my powers ached to be used—pulled at my gut just behind my bellybutton.

Yet Caden didn’t give off the same kind of scent that witches did. His was pungent. And although my powers danced to my fingertips, there was no spark of them colliding with his. That had to mean he wasn’t a witch. Plus, I think Isaac and Josh would have noticed if Caden was one of us.

Still, my suspicions about him were back. My nose must have crinkled, because Caden smelled the sleeve of his jacket.

“Shit, I smell like a fire pit,” he commented.

“You do,” I agreed, releasing my hold on him. “Where’d you come from?”

“A friend’s. Is it that bad?”

Chase buried his nose in Caden’s coat. “I don’t smell anything.”

I had forgotten Chase was there. I placed my hands on his shoulders, backing him up a step. “That answers that.” Which left the screaming question of why my heightened senses were kicking in. I couldn’t ask Caden, so as he and Chase watched me, I said, “I have a sensitive nose. Dad’s in the family room.” I indicated with a nod to the doorway behind him.

“Thanks. The Rolling Stones?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly sorry I’d told him that. He joined Dad.

“What’s your story?” I whispered to myself as Caden took a seat on the chair. Dad sat on the couch.

The grumble-growl that came from Chase reminded me we were cooking dinner. I looked down at him. “Was that your stomach?”

“I’m starving!” He dragged the last word out as if it had been days and not hours since he’d last eaten.

“Then we better get ourselves some of that scrumptious dinner we made.” With my hands still on his shoulders, I steered him into the kitchen.

I could hear Dad and Caden discussing the work that needed to be done at the doctor’s office.

“You didn’t smell smoke on Caden?” I asked Chase, in case he didn’t know what a fire pit was.

He shook his head. “Nah. His jacket smelled like the dry cleaner’s.”

I placed a plate of Hamburger Helper in front of him and went to peek around the corner into the family room in time to hear Dad ask Caden about his qualifications.

I had a few questions of my own—starting with Who are you really? and What do you know about Natalie’s disappearance?—because even though our scrying ruled him out as the person Natalie was with, I was willing to bet he knew more than he’d let on. I wondered if truth serum existed. But since I didn’t have a hidden library in my room on all things witchy and the computer was in the family room with Dad and Caden, researching one was out.

Caden talked about the tools he was familiar with while I fantasized about shining a bright white light into his eyes and demanding the truth. But then again, my interrogation might not have to be so obvious. Maybe a calming spell would relax Caden enough to spill his deepest, darkest secrets.

I recited the first few words of the spell I had memorized a month ago but then stopped. It was an all-or- nothing thing. Once cast, we’d all feel its effects, Dad included, and I didn’t want him to be so relaxed that he went against his better judgment and hired Caden regardless of his credentials. I’d never forgive myself if I cost Dad time and money due to incompetent help. I sighed, flattened myself against the wall so they wouldn’t see me, and listened instead.

Caden seemed to be a jack-of-all-trades. He had experience with hand tools, power tools, painting, plumbing, light electrical work, and supposedly he made a mean firehouse chili cheeseburger. He even managed to work the Rolling Stones into conversation.

“Thanks for coming by,” Dad said at last.

I bolted to the kitchen. “Finished?” I asked Chase to look busy.

Dad joined us as I stuck Chase’s cup into the dishwasher.

“Did he get the job?” Please say no. At least not until I have time to talk to Isaac to find out if I’m overreacting about the smoke smell.

Dad fixed himself a plate as he spoke. “I told him I’d call him once I decided, but he’s qualified, and I need someone who can start right away, so I’ll probably call later this evening and make him an offer.”

The doorbell rang before I could respond.

“Are you expecting someone else?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I told Jerry at the hardware store to go ahead and send over the people he’s worked with before.”

The joys of running a handyman business out of your truck meant no real office, but Dad and Jerry had known each other long enough to have developed a good working relationship. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jerry even prescreened the applicants.

“I’ll get it to give you a couple minutes to eat,” I offered.

Dad nodded and scooped up a forkful of meat.

I dried my hands on a dishtowel and walked to the front door. A guy in his late teens, maybe early twenties, faced me. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his red plaid flannel jacket. Pale blue eyes peered at me from beneath honey-brown hair.

“Are you here to interview for the job?” I asked.

“Yes.” He glanced at his watch. “Am I early?”

“No. Come on in.” I led him to the family room. “Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll get my dad.”

He didn’t sit, though. Instead, he took in the pictures on the mantel.

“Um, who do I tell him is here?” I asked.

“Reed.”

Reed had on navy pants and worn work boots, as if he’d come straight here from another job.

“He’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you.”

Upon returning to the kitchen, I told Dad he had another applicant waiting.

“Great,” Dad replied through a full mouth.

“Jeesh, did you inhale dinner?”

“It was great.” He chugged his soda and placed his plate in the sink.

“This guy looks more competent than the last,” I commented.

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “By the way you were coaching Caden, I figured you were hoping he got the job.”

That was before I’d gotten another funny feeling about the guy. “I wasn’t coaching—”

“The Stones? I was standing in the next room. Not hard to overhear you.”

He left to interview Reed. Chase went to his room to play. I made myself a plate and called Isaac.

“It wasn’t anything Caden did. I don’t know.” I held my phone to my ear with one hand and used a fork to push cheesy noodles around my plate with the other. “He smelled off.”

“Do I even want to know why you’re sniffing the people your dad’s interviewing?”

“Isaac, I’m serious. He reeked heavily of smoke—like wildfires-burning-for-days smoke—yet Chase didn’t smell anything. What do you think that means?”

“You were standing way too close to the guy.”

“Isaac!” I started to wish I’d called Kaylee instead.

“Okay. You said he didn’t give off any witchy vibe, no scent of his magic or spark from your powers colliding. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think he’s a decent guy who needs a job. Madison, your brother has lit up the bathroom and not noticed. I think the kid’s nose is broken.”

I laughed. Isaac was right. Chase wasn’t exactly known for his keen sense of smell.

“Feel better?” Isaac asked.

“I guess.”