I sighed and dragged my gaze from Landon. “I’m sorry. What is everyone planning to do today?”
“We’re going to hang out at the festival, maybe do some circle work on the bluff later if you’re interested,” Hazel replied, exchanging a bright look with Evie. “We don’t have a set plan.”
“Oh, well ... I appreciate the offer, but I probably won’t have time for circle work.” Her steady gaze made me distinctly uncomfortable. “I have other work to do. A local man was killed recently and I’m helping Chief Terry and Landon solve the crime.”
Chief Terry stirred, arching a dubious eyebrow. “You are?”
“I am.” I bobbed my head and gave him my best “Don’t even try arguing with me” expression. “I’m in this one for the long haul.”
“Wonderful,” he said dryly.
“That’s too bad,” Hazel volunteered. “You’ll be missed on the bluff. Perhaps another day.”
“Perhaps.” When Aunt Tillie’s pig started magically flying around, that is.
Twelve
Landon dropped me at Hypnotic. He thought he was being sly by suggesting we ride together, but I recognized what he was doing.
“I’m not going to purposely find trouble,” I promised as I hopped out of his Ford Explorer. “You don’t have to worry about me.” We hadn’t talked about the dream since waking, but it was obviously bothering him.
“Did I say anything?” He was the picture of innocence.
“No, but you’re thinking really hard.”
“I am. Now ... come here and kiss me.”
I was instantly suspicious. “Why? You’re not going to handcuff me to you to make sure I don’t stick my nose into things, are you?”
“I wasn’t considering it, but I find the suggestion interesting.” A sly smile spread across his face. “I just want a kiss.”
I rolled my eyes, but it was mostly for form’s sake. When I stopped in front of him, he took me by surprise by drawing me in for a tight hug. “Don’t go running around and getting in trouble. If you find something you want to investigate, give me a call and we’ll do it together. We’re supposed to be working this case as a team.”
I nodded as I leaned back and stared into his soulful eyes. “I need to research the birds.”
He didn’t argue. Instead he merely traced his thumb over my bottom lip. “I figured. I think that’s a good idea. Just ... don’t go after the birds without me.”
“Why would I go after the birds?”
“I don’t know why you do half the things you do.” He grinned when I glowered ... and then he slowly sobered. “You’ll go after them — or rather, the person controlling them. We both know it. I don’t want you going alone. I’ll help.”
“Are you going to shoot the birds?”
“If need be.”
That sounded overly simplistic, but we were nowhere near the point where it was a prominent concern. “I’ll be fine.” I squeezed his hand. “I promise not to find trouble today.”
“We both know you can’t promise that. Trouble often finds you.”
“True, but ... .” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m not angry, Bay,” he reassured me. “Worrying about you comes with the territory. I wouldn’t trade you for anything – not a single thing – so I can live with pretty much anything. Just ... call me if you decide to start chasing birds. That’s all I ask.”
It seemed a reasonable request so I nodded. “I really will be fine,” I promised him. “Trust me.”
“With my heart.” He gave me a kiss. “Try not to let Thistle and Clove get you riled up. That’s my job.”
I snorted as I headed toward the store. “You’re in a good mood today. Bacon hangover?”
“The best of all hangovers.”
“So you’ve told me.”
CLOVE AND THISTLE WERE HARD at work when I entered Hypnotic. Well, Thistle was hard at work. Clove sat on the couch in the middle of the store, a catalog open on her lap and an order sheet perched on the cushion next to her as she elevated her feet on the table.
“Are you playing the pampered princess today?” I teased as I skirted the living room area and headed straight for the reference books.
“My feet are swollen,” Clove complained, her expression dark. “I mean ... like big time. It’s like walking around on two sausages.”
“That sounds ... lovely.”
“People always say pregnant women have a glow,” Clove muttered. “I think that’s a load of crap. I don’t feel as if I’m glowing.”
I spared her a sidelong glance. I couldn’t help but agree. She looked pretty far from happy, and there was nothing shiny about her. “Well ... things could be worse,” I said. “You could be pregnant with one of those monsters from Alien and about to give birth to a creature that punches through your chest.”
Thistle snorted as Clove made a face.
“Oh, thank you for saying that to her,” Thistle drawled once she’d recovered. “Now I’m going to have to listen to her complain for days because she has indigestion and believes it’s an alien about to pop through her chest. You won’t have to deal with it because you have an office you can hide in.”
I hadn’t really thought about it, but that was an added benefit. “I need a book.” I decided to switch tactics because I didn’t have time to dilly-dally. “I saw you had an interesting one here several months ago. It was on harbingers.”
Thistle, her faux outrage over having to deal with Clove’s meltdowns forgotten, furrowed her brow. “Harbingers? Why are you researching them?”
“I’ve seen them twice now.”
“Oh, yeah?”
I reminded her of the birds we both saw right before the explosion rocked the downtown. Then I told her about what Landon and I witnessed the previous evening at the festival.
“That’s weird,” Thistle murmured. She looked lost in thought. “I don’t even know what to make of that.”
I was right there with her. “That’s why I want to research harbingers.”
“Go ahead. I’m kind of curious now that you’ve brought it up.”
I found the book I was looking for and settled in a chair close to Clove as I read. Surprisingly — or perhaps unsurprisingly if you believed Hazel about me not wanting to be part of the witch learning crew — there was quite a bit I didn’t know about the topic.
“Did you know there are harbingers of joy?” I asked when I was about thirty minutes into my research. “Hummingbirds. They’re supposed to signify joy and victory over darkness.”
“And here I thought they were just mesmerizing to watch,” Thistle teased.
I ignored her and kept reading. “Owls are harbingers of doom and symbols of wisdom. They’re considered wise and supposedly can communicate if you give them a chance.”
“Oh, well, that sounds like a great idea,” Thistle said. “I recommend the two of you not sit in the woods and talk to the owls.”
I ignored the sarcasm. “For witches, owls are particularly important. They’re drawn to us on an individual basis given the strength of our magic, and if we see one crossing our path we’re supposed to pay it particular attention.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Thistle muttered.
“I’ve always liked owls,” Clove said. She’d given up the pretense of ordering things and was instead openly lounging. “I think they’re cool.”
“Owls are only harbingers of doom if we see them fighting,” I continued, completely caught up in the material. “Otherwise they’re carriers of wisdom.”
“Something this family desperately needs,” Thistle noted. “We should totally get a pet owl.”
I moved on to the next section of text. “Crows and ravens have always been considered harbingers of death, but this says they get a bad rap. They can bring bad news, but not all the time, and are essentially the image of truth. What do you think that means?”
“Does it say what it means?” Thistle challenged.
“It says if you see a
crow you’re going to discover the truth.”
“Did you see crows or ravens last night?” Clove asked. “I mean ... it might help to narrow down the sort of bird we’re dealing with.”
“I’m really not sure.” I was hardly a bird expert. “I thought they were crows. Do we even have ravens in this area?”
“I have no idea,” Thistle answered. “I could ask Marcus. He might know. He works a lot with animals.”
“I’m not sure it matters.” I turned back to my reading. “Hawks are symbols of good. If we’re in a battle and can call upon a hawk, supposedly we’re assured of a victory. If a falcon or hawk crosses your path you’re supposed to be ready for battle ... but the hawk will more often than not join you in the battle.”
“Oh, well, that’s good to know.” Thistle was clearly over bird talk. “Next time I decide to take on Aunt Tillie I’ll take a hawk along. There’s nothing scarier than a hawk when you’re having a witch fight.”
Clove pointed at her. “True story.”
My lips quirked at their interaction, but I kept reading. “Bats aren’t birds, but they’re still harbingers. Almost everyone fears bats ... except witches. Bats don’t signify death, they indicate a major transition.
“Oddly enough, storks aren’t the bearer of babies as we’ve been taught,” I continued. “Storks bring something new to your life, but not necessarily a baby. Hmm.
“Vultures aren’t omens of death, despite what mass media would have us believe.” I was really getting into it now. “I would’ve thought they were because of their scavenger nature. They’re omens of fertility.” I turned my eyes to Clove. “You didn’t see a vulture before Sam knocked you up, did you?”
I was having a good time, something I previously would’ve thought impossible when talking about birds. I was so engrossed in what I was doing I didn’t initially notice that the store had fallen into complete silence … almost unnaturally so. After a few seconds, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
I slowly raised my eyes and found Aunt Tillie standing behind the counter. She must’ve come in through the back door without alerting us — perhaps to use the bathroom — and she looked utterly flabbergasted as she glanced between us.
“Uh-oh,” I muttered, shoving the book to the side and focusing on our great-aunt. “How long has she been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear what you said,” Thistle replied. She’d moved away from the shelves she was dusting and was completely focused on Aunt Tillie. “How did you get in through the back? We keep that door locked.”
Aunt Tillie’s eyes narrowed as her gaze bounced from face to face. Finally, she focused on Clove. “You’re pregnant?”
Clove’s lower lip trembled and I felt the panic washing over her. “I ... you ... .”
“You can’t say anything,” I barked, taking control of the situation. Aunt Tillie respected strength ... and I was about to show her mine.
Aunt Tillie ignored me and remained focused on Clove. “How far along are you?”
“Several months,” Clove admitted, her voice tiny. “I ... um ... .”
“Give her a break,” Thistle ordered, circling in from the other side. Much like me, she obviously sensed trouble. She wasn’t about to let Aunt Tillie bully Clove when our cousin was at her most vulnerable. “She and Sam will be married before the end of the week. There’s no reason to make a thing out of this.”
“No reason?” Aunt Tillie’s eyebrows hopped. “She’s going to have a baby. I just ... how long have you been sitting on this information?”
She switched tactics quickly and it made me suspicious.
“Why does that matter?” I challenged. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We’re simply ... helping our cousin.”
“Zip it.” Aunt Tillie held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart as she gestured toward me. “I’m not talking to you right now.” Her gaze never left Clove’s face. “When are you going to tell your mother?”
“After the wedding,” Clove answered, breathless. “I swear I’m telling her after the wedding.”
“Why not tell her now?”
“Because ... because ... .”
“You know why,” Thistle argued. “This week is important to our mothers. Clove just wants some peace before her big day. We’re almost there. We just need a few more days.”
“I don’t think I can keep this a secret,” Aunt Tillie admitted. “It’s not a little thing, like you guys risking your lives or breaking into a business to look for clues and potentially being sent to the big house, where you’ll be molested by prison queens for cigarettes. This is a big deal.”
“Why?” My temper was bubbling close to the surface, something I knew wasn’t good but I couldn’t stop myself from reacting with fury. “She’s going to be married in a few days.”
“Besides, this belief you guys have that we need to be married before procreating is antiquated,” Thistle added. “I think those are probably ideal circumstances, but there’s no such thing as ideal circumstances in life. Clove and Sam will be happy. More importantly, they’ll be good parents. You need to leave them alone.”
“I don’t think I can.” Aunt Tillie shifted slightly and I could tell she was about to bolt through the back door. I had no doubt what she would do if she escaped.
“You can’t tell them.” I was insistent. “You’ll ruin everything.”
“I don’t see that I have much choice,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “You can’t expect me to keep this secret from them. It’s not fair.”
“You’re keeping your mouth shut.” Thistle took a menacing step in her direction. “If I have to curse your tongue myself, you’ll keep this to yourself.”
“Oh, well, that’s a bold threat,” Aunt Tillie said. “I think you’ll have to catch me first.” With those words, she nipped through the hallway and disappeared.
For a moment — one interminably long beat — Thistle and I just stood there. Then, as if propelled by the same force, we tore toward the door. Clove gave chase, too, but with her swollen feet she couldn’t keep up. Thistle and I were already way ahead of her when we hit the street.
“Which way?” I asked, jerking my head left and right.
Thistle pointed. “There.” Aunt Tillie was already on her scooter halfway down the alley. She glanced over her shoulder to see if we were giving chase and she grinned when she saw us.
“You can’t stop me,” she called out. “I have to do what I have to do.”
“Like Hecate you do,” I muttered.
The scooter was both a blessing and a curse for Aunt Tillie. She could ride faster than we could run, but the street was littered with people and she wasn’t coordinated enough to smoothly navigate through the throngs without constantly having to stop and readjust.
Still, she managed to make it to the other side of the crowd. She was heading toward the part of town where the blacksmith shop was located when Thistle got fed up.
“Enough is enough.” She narrowed her eyes and started muttering curses.
I didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late to stop her. “Wait ... .”
Thistle let loose a barrage of magic that caught up to Aunt Tillie with enough force to cause the scooter to careen sideways. Aunt Tillie couldn’t control her velocity and pitched forward.
For one horrifying moment all I could picture was Aunt Tillie’s head meeting the concrete. Would there be broken bones? Would the head injury actually be enough to kill her? Had we just traded Clove’s secret for Aunt Tillie’s quality of life?
And then Landon came out of nowhere and caught her before she hit the ground.
I wasn’t sure where he’d been — although the blacksmith shop was right behind him and Chief Terry and Todd Bennett were watching the scene with something akin to awe — but he timed it exactly right to make sure Aunt Tillie incurred minimum damage.
“There now. You need to be careful,” he admonished.
Aunt Tillie’s eyes were wide when t
hey landed on him, but they narrowed when she turned them to us. “Oh, you two are in so much trouble.”
We were out of breath when we closed the distance.
“You’re going to keep it to yourself,” I argued, grabbing her wrist to make sure she didn’t flee a second time. “It’s important.”
“I already told you I can’t keep a secret like that,” Aunt Tillie argued. “They’re my nieces. They have a right to know.”
“Oh, geez.” Landon rubbed his forehead. “I take it you big mouths were talking about Clove’s secret and she overheard. I told you this would blow up in your faces.”
“Nobody wants to hear ‘I told you so’ at a time like this, Landon,” I shot back. “She came in through the back. We didn’t hear her. How were we supposed to know?”
“You should’ve been careful all the same.”
Realization washed over Aunt Tillie’s face and she became enraged. “Wait ... he knows before me?” Her cheeks flushed with color. “That is just the most insulting thing I’ve ever heard. Why would you tell him?”
“Because I can trust that he’ll keep his mouth shut,” I replied without hesitation.
“Do I even want to know what you guys are talking about?” Chief Terry asked.
I shook my head. “No. I can unequivocally say that you don’t.”
“I agree on that,” Landon offered. “You’re better being ignorant.”
“I always think that.” Chief Terry gestured for Todd to return to the hollowed-out shell that used to be the blacksmith shop. “Let’s take another look around.”
Todd nodded. “Sure. That sounds like a plan.”
I waited until I was certain they were out of earshot to speak again. “You can’t tattle on us. You’ll ruin absolutely everything if you do.”
“I don’t know.” Aunt Tillie chewed her bottom lip. “I’m not sure this is a secret I can keep.”
“You have to hear us out.” I refused to back down. “Once we tell you why it needs to be a secret, you’ll agree with us. I know you will.”
Aunt Tillie didn’t look convinced, but she nodded. “I guess it can’t hurt to let you make your case. I should warn you, though, my mind is already made up.”
Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Page 70
