That felt like a trick question. “Loads?”
Instead of being offended, Clove laughed. “You’re hilarious. I forgot how much you hated babies.”
“I don’t hate them,” I countered. “I simply don’t like them.”
“She’s afraid of them,” Thistle corrected. “They freak her out. If you want to know the truth, they freak me out, too. I’m not holding that thing until it’s more durable and its head doesn’t flop around. You’ve been warned.”
Clove rolled her eyes. “You’ll get over it and be great aunts. I’m not worried about that. I’m just worried about our mothers finding out.”
To me, giving birth was the real fear. I would much rather put up with a little disappointment from my mother and aunts than have a baby ripped from my loins. Yeah, I said it. Ever since Clove had announced she was pregnant I’d been having a series of depressingly dark dreams that involved giving birth to various creatures ... including cats, dogs, rats and Kardashians. The last was the most horrifying prospect of all.
“I think you’re worrying about nothing where they’re concerned,” I offered. “It’s not like when we were teenagers. I mean ... if one of us ended up pregnant back then it would’ve felt like the end of the world. The thing is, we would’ve figured it out then, too.
“You’re an adult now,” I continued. “I know they warned us that we would be disowned if we turned up pregnant before marriage, but I think that was just a deterrent for when we were too young to take care of ourselves. You’re getting married. In a few days, you’re going to get everything you ever wanted. Why would they possibly be upset about that?”
“Because we’re supposed to be married before having babies,” Clove replied without hesitation. “They were adamant about that.”
“Yes, and they were adamant that it was important not to have sex on the first date, but Aunt Winnie threw that out the window when she started having sex with Chief Terry,” Thistle noted.
I frowned. I was still getting over the horror of finding out my mother was having sex with my favorite father figure. I was traumatized. “Do we have to talk about that?” I fought the urge to wrestle Thistle to the floor and start shoveling dirt from the nearby potted plant into her mouth. “I don’t want to even think about that.”
“Oh, poor Bay.” Thistle’s expression was mischievous as she poked my side. “We all have our hang-ups, don’t we?”
That was an understatement. “Yeah. Some of us are convinced that Aunt Tillie is spying on us even though she’s been distracted by other things ... like her new pig.”
Thistle scowled. “Aunt Tillie has been spying on us. I know she has. I caught her peeking through the window of the store the other day.”
I had to bite back a laugh. “Your storefront consists of two big windows,” I reminded her. “Whenever someone walks past they have to look through the windows. That doesn’t mean they’re spying.”
“Oh, grow up.” Thistle’s tone was withering. “She’s spying. That’s what she does.”
“I think Thistle might be right,” Clove acknowledged. “Aunt Tillie has been acting weird ... and that’s saying something, because she bought a pig and named it Peg.”
“I like Peg,” I countered. “She’s good for Aunt Tillie. She keeps her distracted.”
“That is always a plus,” Thistle agreed. “She’s still spying. I haven’t figured out what she’s up to, but I will. I won’t let her out-maneuver me. I’m done letting her win.”
That was a conversation for another time. Thistle’s paranoia was starting to rocket off the charts. It was a concern, but not one we could focus on now. We had other things to worry about, mainly Clove.
“The other witches start arriving tomorrow,” I offered. “Once that happens, our mothers won’t be able to focus on anything but them. This is a big deal.”
“I actually think one or two are showing up tonight,” Thistle countered, thoughtful. “Do you remember the last solstice celebration?”
“We celebrate the solstice every year,” Clove countered.
“I know, but ... I’m talking about the last big gathering.”
“We were teenagers,” I answered, my mind drifting back to the day in question. “I remember it pretty well. There was a lot of naked dancing and wine drinking.”
“There was a lot of fighting, too,” Clove added. “That’s why they canceled the big gathering the year after ... and things sort of snowballed from there.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. This is the first big gathering in twelve years at least. These witches haven’t been together in a long time. I can’t be the only one worried that some of them might’ve forgotten their manners.”
“Oh, don’t kid yourself,” Thistle supplied. “You’re worried Aunt Tillie will forget her manners.”
I’d definitely been worrying about that. “Landon asked me about the gathering last night,” I said, referring to my live-in boyfriend. We’d taken over the guesthouse I used to share with Clove and Thistle and were happily cohabiting. “He’s really excited to meet these other witches. I don’t know what to tell him.”
“Why not tell him the truth?” Thistle prodded. “Tell him that Aunt Tillie is often considered the sensible witch when it comes to the other coven members.”
I made a face. “I don’t want to scare him away.”
“If Aunt Tillie’s leggings haven’t scared him away yet, it won’t happen. Still, I get what you’re saying. This is a big deal for all of us. I think that’s the only reason our mothers haven’t figured out Clove is pregnant. I mean ... they would have to be blind not to notice.”
Clove, always concerned about her appearance, turned huffy. “You take that back.” Her agitation was on full display. “I look the same as I always have. I’ve put on only two pounds.”
Thistle snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve easily put on twenty pounds. We’re just lucky that they think you’re stress eating because you’re nervous about the wedding.”
“Twenty pounds?” Clove’s eyebrows hopped halfway up her forehead. “Bay, tell her that’s not true. I haven’t gained twenty pounds.”
I felt caught. On one hand, Thistle was right. Clove had definitely put on more than a few pounds. It was noticeable ... unless you were our mothers, apparently. On the other hand, I enjoyed messing with Thistle to the point I found true joy in torturing her.
“You look exactly the same, Clove,” I lied. “Pregnant women the world over would be thrilled to look like you.”
Clove preened as Thistle scowled. “Thank you.”
“Liar, liar, witch on fire,” Thistle hissed under her breath.
I pinched her flank, causing her to squirm as Clove went back to looking at her freaky book. “If she wants to believe she’s still thin, who are you to ruin it for her? She just needs to get through a few more days. Is that too much to ask?”
Thistle glowered at me but ultimately lowered her eyes. “Fine. I’ll keep playing this ridiculous game for a few days. After that, I’m going nuts.”
I was right there with her. “I think we should be thankful that the coven elders decided to reinstate the group solstice celebration,” I said, smoothly changing the subject back to a topic not quite so dangerous. “We’re hosting it, so our mothers have something to obsess about other than us. That’s a good thing.”
“That is a good thing,” Thistle agreed. “It’s just ... I don’t remember these solstice celebrations being relaxing events. I remember our mothers freaking out, barking a lot of orders and insisting that we be on our best behavior.”
“I was always on my best behavior regardless,” Clove offered.
“Thank you,” Thistle drawled. “The Goddess of Sucking Up is apparently reporting for duty early.”
I couldn’t hide my smile despite Clove’s pronounced pout. “We don’t live under the same roof with them,” I pointed out. “It was different when we had to help with the cooking and cleaning. They’ll be taking all that on the
mselves this time. We can hide ... which is exactly what we need to do to keep Clove’s pregnancy a secret until the wedding.”
“And then you’re telling them before you go on your honeymoon?” Thistle pressed. “You’re not going to drag it out, are you?”
“No.” Clove’s lips curved down. “I thought about trying to pretend I got pregnant on the honeymoon, but odds are probably slim they would believe that.”
“Especially with the baby coming in a few months,” I shot back dryly. “You need to tell them before you go. That way they can fume for two weeks and be over it by the time you get back.”
“Which means they’ll take out their aggression on Bay and me while you’re gone,” Thistle added. “Not that we’re not happy to take one for the team or anything.”
Clove’s expression turned rueful. “I appreciate you guys doing this for me. It means a lot.” Her voice cracked and, oddly enough, I felt tears clogging my throat.
“Stop that,” Thistle hissed, swiping at the tears appearing on her cheeks. “You can’t keep projecting emotions on us. This will blow up in our faces if they figure out what’s happening before the wedding. You need to hold it together.”
“I will,” Clove promised. “I promise I will. It’s just the hormones get me occasionally.”
“Well ... make them stop.” Thistle lowered her face to Clove’s stomach. “Stop being a whiner, baby. We’re trying to protect you here. Get with the program.”
I laughed, my eyes flicking to the window when I caught a hint of movement. At first glance I thought I was seeing things. Aunt Tillie wasn’t just walking past the window, she looked to be flying at a high rate of speed. Then I realized she had her hands on a set of handlebars and wasn’t flying as much as gliding.
“What is that?” I was already on my feet and heading to the window before Thistle and Clove could say a word.
“Was that a scooter?” Clove asked, joining me so we could stare at the sidewalk. Aunt Tillie had already disappeared around the corner.
“I think it was,” I confirmed, lost in thought. “That must be the thing Mom and the aunts were complaining about her buying the other day. She ordered it from Amazon. Mom was furious because she said Aunt Tillie was going to break a hip or something.”
“It’s a kick scooter,” Thistle pointed out. “Why did she get that instead of one she could sit down on?”
I shrugged. That was a good question. “I don’t know. All I know is it’s motorized and she’s going really fast.”
“You can say that again,” Clove supplied. “Here she comes again. Wait ... what is she doing?”
I narrowed my eyes and watched as Aunt Tillie circled onto the sidewalk again, her eyes fixed on the store down the way.
“She’s taunting Mrs. Little,” Thistle surmised, shaking her head. “She’s riding that thing around the block over and over because she knows it will drive Mrs. Little crazy.”
Margaret Little was Aunt Tillie’s nemesis, so that was a fair bet. “Well ... at least a new toy will keep her busy for a few days.” I smirked as Aunt Tillie flew by the store window again, heading for the end of the block. “That’s always a bonus.”
“That’s true.” Thistle brightened considerably. “In fact ... .” She trailed off when a distinct sound filled the air, the sound of what had to be at least fifty crows cawing in unison as they took to the air and fled the downtown area. They dotted the sky, a mass of moving black targets, and the noise was deafening.
“What is that?” Clove asked, her hand flying to her mouth. “Is that what I think it is?”
I was familiar enough with signs to confirm it without a second thought. “Harbingers,” I muttered, my witch training taking over. “They’re harbingers. Something bad is about to happen.”
I was already moving Thistle and Clove away from the window when a rumbling started shaking the building. The sound of something exploding echoed from farther down the street. It was close enough to be worrisome, and the force of the blow was enough to rock Hypnotic to its very foundation. On instinct, we all dived behind the couch and took cover.
Yes, something very bad was happening ... and it wasn’t over.
Two
Thistle and I instinctively shielded Clove with our bodies. The store shook with the power of the explosion, several items falling off shelves, but the roof held steady and the rumbling quickly ceased.
“What was that?” Clove lifted her head, her eyes wide. “Was that an earthquake? Oh, geez. What do you think Aunt Tillie did this time?”
My heart skipped a beat as Thistle jerked up her chin to meet my gaze.
“Aunt Tillie,” we said in unison, hopping to our feet and racing toward the door. It wasn’t that we thought she was responsible — for once, the odds seemed unlikely — but she’d been zipping around outside. She was in the open when whatever it was happened. We had to find her.
“Stay here!” I ordered Clove as I rushed through the door.
“Stay here?” Clove turned shrill. “What are you talking about?”
“Stay here,” Thistle echoed as she moved in behind me. “We don’t know what this is. You’re safer here.” She smacked into my back, but only because I’d pulled up short when I reached the sidewalk. “Oh, why don’t you stand in the middle of the sidewalk and do nothing or something, Bay?” she complained. “That will help.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My mind had gone temporarily blank.
“Why are you standing here?” Thistle gave me a vicious shove and I stumbled forward. It was her turn to be gobsmacked when she realized what had caught my attention. “Is that ... ?”
“That blacksmith shop,” I replied grimly, pushing against Thistle’s car to make sure I stayed on my feet. “I’m pretty sure it exploded.”
We exchanged a heavy look.
“We need to get down there,” she said. “We have to find Aunt Tillie.”
She wasn’t wrong. Our great-aunt might’ve been a royal pain in the keister — and that was putting it nicely — but she was still family. “Stay here, Clove,” I instructed again when she appeared in the open doorway. “If you see Aunt Tillie, grab her and make her stay inside.”
Clove shook her head. “I should go with you,” she countered. “I ... you shouldn’t go without me.”
“I don’t see that we have much choice in the matter. You can’t go with us. The smoke isn’t good for ... anyone.” I didn’t mention the baby. No one on the street was paying attention to us — there was a fire to watch, after all — but now wasn’t the time to be reckless. “We’ll be in touch when we know what’s going on. For now ... just stay here.”
Clove opened her mouth to argue again, but she was too late. Thistle and I were on the move, our attention trained on the inferno raging at the end of the street.
“How did this happen?” Thistle asked blankly.
“I don’t know. Maybe it was a gas leak or something.”
She slowed her pace. “If there’s a gas leak we shouldn’t leave Clove in the store. We should put her in a car and get her out of here.”
That was actually a good idea. “You do that. I’ll go down and see what I can find out.”
“No way.” Her hand snaked out and grabbed me by the wrist. “You need to come with me.”
“I can’t.” I felt helpless in the wake of her glare. “I need to know what that is ... and I have to find Aunt Tillie. Clove should be your responsibility. I’ll make Aunt Tillie mine.”
On a normal day Thistle would’ve jumped at the chance to foist Aunt Tillie off on somebody else. Actually, it wouldn’t even have to be a family member. Any random stranger would do. Today, though, she was clearly torn. She glanced back at the store and then at me. The serious set of her jaw told me she’d made up her mind.
“We’re going together.” She was firm.
This time when we started running, a sense of urgency had somehow kicked into gear in the back of my brain, forcing me to increase my pace until I was gasping
for breath. When we arrived in front of the blacksmith shop, all hell was breaking loose ... and not in a fun way like we were used to in Hemlock Cove.
“Adam! Adam!”
A woman was wailing. It took me a moment to find her in the smoke, which was so black that I feared I wouldn’t be able to find my way back out if it should become necessary to escape. Lorna Harris, her ashy blond hair jutting haphazardly from what had once been a severe bun, stood in the middle of the road screaming as she stared at the building.
Well, what was left of the building really. The burning structure wasn’t original. When Hemlock Cove rebranded as a magical vacation destination years before, the town had to erect a few buildings. The blacksmith shop was one of them. There simply wasn’t a need for a fancy barn with outdated equipment before the town took the plunge into the kooky.
“Adam!” Lorna was seemingly blind to Mrs. Gunderson, who had managed to beat us to the fire. The bakery owner was trying to calm the hysterical woman ... and not having much luck.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I shielded my watering eyes from the smoke. “What happened?”
“The building blew up,” Mrs. Gunderson replied simply.
“We figured that out ourselves,” Thistle snapped. “How did it blow up?”
“I have no idea. I was in the front of the bakery when I heard it. I came right down because ... well ... just because.”
I understood “just because.” I had a reason for racing to the scene, but it was unlikely that I would’ve remained at the store even if not for Aunt Tillie. This was a big story, after all. I had to cover it for The Whistler.
“Adam!” Lorna screeched so loudly that I thought her vocal cords might snap. She continued to struggle against Mrs. Gunderson’s iron grip. The baker was stronger than she looked.
I swallowed hard as reality set in. “Was Mr. Harris in there when it exploded?”
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Gunderson looked as bewildered as I felt. “You know what I do.”
“Adam!”
I sucked in a breath, which was filled with smoke and made me cough. When I recovered, I strode in Lorna’s direction. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do until I was directly in front of her. “Is he in there?”
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 60
