Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Maybe.” I chewed my bottom lip. That was always possible, but it felt unlikely. “The thing is, when Clove, Thistle and I were kids we told each other everything. We couldn’t wait to gossip about our mothers. Like the time we thought Twila was messing around with the guy who drove the bus – who also dressed up like a clown in his free time – we couldn’t wait to share that information.”

  Landon shuddered at mention of a clown. “Not all kids are the same. Maybe Nick and Dani aren’t close.”

  “I guess.” I leaned my head against the glass and thought about our conundrum. “I researched harbingers today. There were things I didn’t know, but I’m not sure anything I found helps us.”

  “I’m not going to lie,” he started as he pulled into the guesthouse driveway. Apparently we were walking to dinner. “I find the bird thing creepy. I never really paid birds much heed until we saw that flock circling over Lorna last night. That was all kinds of weird.”

  It was definitely weird. “I don’t know what to make of it. I just ... feel out of my depth.”

  “Have you considered bringing up the topic over dinner? You’ll be surrounded by witches. Maybe one of them knows more about the subject.”

  I wasn’t sure if I liked or hated the option, but it was something to consider. “You’re smarter than you look sometimes.”

  “That’s impossible. I look like a genius.”

  Actually, he looked like a male model. I decided to keep that observation to myself, though.

  CLOVE, THISTLE, SAM AND MARCUS WERE ensconced in the library at the inn. Thistle hovered by the glass door, watching the other witches enjoy drinks in the lounge, her eyes speculative.

  I met Clove’s gaze, hoping she would volunteer the pertinent information without me having to ask, but she and Sam were too wrapped up in one another.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, glaring as Sam pressed his hand to Clove’s abdomen. She sat on his lap, their heads bent together, and they whispered and giggled. It was a sweet scene ... that almost made me sick to my stomach.

  “Stop that!” I slapped Sam’s hand away when he held it flat against her midriff again. “Do you want to tip them off about what’s going on?”

  Sam lifted his head and gave me a lazy smile. “There’s a baby in there. Are you telling me you don’t find that miraculous?”

  Oh, geez. “Not really. Babies have been hanging around in places like that since the dawn of time. It’s nothing new.”

  “I see you’re in a crabby mood,” Clove complained, shooting me a dubious look as Landon moved to the drink cart. “Why are you so unhappy?”

  “I’m not unhappy.”

  Clove didn’t look convinced. “Landon, why is she so unhappy?”

  “She doesn’t like the birds,” he automatically answered, his eyes going to the open doorway when he heard familiar snorting. “Hello, beautiful.” He beamed at Peg as the pig wandered in. She was back in her tutu and looked thrilled to see him. “How’s my favorite girl?”

  The question, although seemingly innocent, was enough to irritate me. “Seriously?”

  Landon realized his mistake too late. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” He was sheepish. “I just ... she’s very cute. Everyone knows you’re my favorite girl, Bay. Peg has low self-esteem. She needs me to bolster her ego.”

  I rolled my eyes and flopped on the couch, leaving Landon to play with his favorite girl while Thistle snickered and Marcus shot me a sympathetic look.

  “You look like you’ve had a rough day,” Marcus noted. “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

  “Actually, I didn’t sleep all that well,” I admitted. “I had a weird dream.”

  “About what?” Thistle asked, tearing her eyes from the activity. “By the way, have you noticed that Aunt Tillie is hiding behind the potted plant and spying on all the other witches? She’s not even being stealthy about it.”

  I craned my neck to see, laughing when I realized she wore a hat that had fake palm fronds jutting from the top of it. “Where did she get that hat?”

  “I think she made it,” Clove replied. “She thinks no one can see her if she doesn’t move and hides behind the plant.”

  “She’s like a cat that way,” Thistle agreed. “A moronic cat, but a cat all the same.”

  I elevated my feet on the coffee table and rubbed my forehead. “So ... about that dream.” I told them the story, from beginning to end, and then frowned when Thistle’s eyes lit with annoyance. “What?”

  “You didn’t mention the dream when you were doing research earlier,” she complained. “You just said you saw the birds hanging around Lorna ... and making a spectacle right before Adam died. Why did you leave out the dream?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. Do you think the dream is important?”

  “I would say so. You’re growing more and more powerful with each passing day. I think there’s a reason for that dream.”

  “I think so, too.” Landon looked up from the floor, Peg giving him sloppy kisses, and held my gaze. “I think you need to stay away from Lorna. Leave the investigation to Chief Terry and me from here on out.”

  I was flabbergasted. “Excuse me? That’s not what you said this morning.” My tone was shriller than I intended. “You said we were stronger together and we would solve this as a team.”

  “We are part of the same team.” He feigned patience as he rolled to a sitting position. “You’re always going to be the most important member of my team.”

  Something had obviously changed. He’d just said as much. “But you want to cut me out of the action.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He held up a finger and wagged it. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I want you safe, Bay. I don’t like the birds. They creep me out. When you couple that with the ghost with his lips sewn shut I can’t help worrying about you. Sue me.”

  “Wait ... what ghost had his lips sewn shut?” Clove forgot about flirting with Sam and swung her head in my direction. “You didn’t mention a ghost with his lips sewn shut. How does that even happen?”

  “I forgot with all the Aunt Tillie hoopla,” I muttered. “It was at Lorna’s house.”

  “Was it Adam?” Thistle folded her arms across her chest and rested her hip against the door as she regarded me. She seemed to be standing guard ... although I had no idea against what.

  I nodded. “He looked like a man who was tortured and had his lips stitched together with a very heavy thread. The thing is, other than the stab wounds and some dirt, he looked normal when we found him. That obviously wasn’t done to him in life.”

  “Which means someone managed to do it in death,” Thistle noted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t even know what to make of that.”

  She wasn’t the only one. “He couldn’t speak. He looked really upset. We need to find a way to unbind him.”

  “That’s easier said than done,” Clove pointed out. “We’ve never been very good with spells like that.”

  “We’ll have to figure out a way to get better at them. I can’t help but think that Adam is key.”

  “You’re a necromancer,” Thistle pointed out. “Can’t you force him to rip out the thread?”

  I found the notion appalling. “Why would I do that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s a ghost. It’s not as if he can feel pain.”

  Landon looked intrigued at the prospect. “Is that possible? Can you do that?”

  I hadn’t really considered it before now. The more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I was with the prospect. “I would rather not do that unless I have no other choice,” I countered. “It makes me feel ... mean.”

  “Mean?” Landon arched a speculative eyebrow. “Since when does anybody in this family care about being mean?”

  “Since now. I don’t want to use this new magic for anything bad. I already screwed with those three other ghosts. I would like to refrain from doing that again if I can help it.”
<
br />   “What new magic?” a voice asked from the other side of Thistle, who had forgotten to watch for interlopers because she was caught up in questioning me.

  When I jerked my head in that direction, I found Hazel watching us with curious eyes. Well ... crap on a cracker.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, her expression conciliatory. “I couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m intrigued.”

  “You couldn’t help but overhear?” Thistle’s eyes flashed with annoyance as she regarded the woman. She and Aunt Tillie agreed on very little, but their dislike of Hazel was well matched. “You would’ve had to have been on top of us to hear a single word we said.”

  “Believe it or not, your entire family has voices that carry,” Hazel replied brightly. “It’s good to see you again, Thistle. You look exactly the same now as you did then ... other than the hair. This suits you much better. But I’m talking to Bay now.”

  And just like that, Thistle had been dismissed. Hazel turned her full attention to me. “What new powers have you been manifesting? You’ll have to forgive my question if you find it invasive, but I’ve always had a certain fascination with you, Bay. I can’t help myself.”

  Landon finally separated himself from his lovefest with Peg and joined me on the couch. There was something mildly aggressive about the way he positioned himself between the two of us. “Bay is the most fascinating person I know,” he agreed. “I don’t know that I think this conversation is appropriate for the dinner hour, though.”

  “Really?” Hazel looked amused rather than put off. “The inn is full of witches. We all understand about magic. Quite frankly, we understand about loyalty, too. Certain factions of the Winchester household have always been secretive, but that’s no reason to make Bay suffer.”

  “Bay isn’t suffering,” Landon countered. “She’s just hungry. It’s pot roast night. We all love pot roast night.”

  I wanted to laugh at the way he delivered the statement. There was a certain amount of insolence in his drawl, but there was a pointed admonishment in his eyes when Hazel held his gaze. He was sending a warning. I couldn’t help but wonder if she would back down.

  “I don’t know you very well, Mr. Michaels,” Hazel started. “You seem like a good man. A little intense, perhaps, but I have a feeling that goes with the territory as it pertains to your occupation. I’ve known Bay for a very long time — longer than you, in fact — and I think I know her better.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that,” Thistle muttered, her forehead creasing. “Landon and Bay have been in each other’s lives for a long time. Granted, we were forced to hang out with you at gatherings over the years when we were children, but we were hardly bonded to you.”

  “I blame Tillie for that,” Hazel replied evenly. “She was always determined to keep you away from outside influences. She insulated you because she thought you would be powerful. I recognized your power before she did.”

  Her tone rankled. “You recognized our power?”

  “Yes. You’re a fearsome threesome. Real power comes in threes. You know that. With Bay as your ringleader, you could do almost anything.”

  Thistle was outraged. “With Bay as our ringleader? I’m the ringleader. Me!”

  Hazel shot her a hilarious look. “You’re one point of the triangle. Depending on the direction you’re looking from, you could be the top or one of the bottom corners. You’ve always been a bottom corner. There’s no shame in that.”

  Thistle’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just call me a bottom corner?”

  “Batten the hatches,” Landon muttered, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “Hurricane Thistle is about to reach land.”

  “Shut up, Landon,” Thistle snapped, her eyes glowing with potential mayhem. “This is serious. I’m the ringleader of our group. Me.” She thumped her chest and looked to Clove for confirmation. “Tell him ... and her. Tell everybody.”

  “Well ... .” Clove was obviously uncomfortable as she shifted on Sam’s lap. “I don’t know that I would call you the leader. I don’t really think we have a leader.”

  That was a good answer. Would it be enough to placate Thistle? “Clove is right. We don’t have a leader.”

  “Yes, we do. I’m the leader.” Thistle refused to back down. “I’m serious. Everyone knows I’m the leader. Bay can’t be the leader simply because she’s the oldest. That’s not fair.”

  “It’s not about being the oldest,” Hazel countered. “It’s about power ... and level-headedness. You can’t lay claim to either.”

  Oh, good grief. This was going south ... and fast. “Thistle can be the leader,” I said hurriedly. “I’m fine with it.” The last thing we needed was a meltdown at this juncture. “It doesn’t matter who’s in charge.”

  “Of course it does.” Hazel wrinkled her nose. “You’re the leader. You’re in charge of your trio. It is what it is.”

  I wanted to dig a hole and crawl inside to avoid Thistle’s hateful glare. “It doesn’t matter. I ... Aunt Tillie!” I’d never been so excited to see anyone in my life. Sure, my great-aunt was wearing a hat that had palm fronds sticking out of it and a pair of green leggings that featured tree branches creeping into a very odd – almost obscene, really – place, but if anyone could make Hazel back down, it was Aunt Tillie.

  “Why are you yelling my name, Bay?” Aunt Tillie asked distastefully as she strolled into the room. “I may be old, but my hearing is just fine.”

  “It’s not about being old.” I offered her a cutesy smile that felt out of place. “We missed you. You know how much we love you.”

  Suspicion flitted across Aunt Tillie’s pinched features. “What are you up to?”

  “I was just explaining to the girls that I’ve always been interested in their development as witches,” Hazel volunteered. “They’re amazing women. I’ll wager they’ve turned into amazing witches. I can’t wait to see their magical display at the gathering.”

  Hold up. This was the first I heard about that. “What magical display?”

  “Your mothers have signed you up for a spell performance,” Aunt Tillie replied, her gaze never leaving Hazel’s face. “They capitulated to peer pressure, even though I told them it was ridiculous.”

  “We’re not performing a spell.” I was firm. “It’s just not going to happen.”

  “Definitely not,” Thistle agreed. “We’re not dancing monkeys.”

  “You have one way to get out of it,” Aunt Tillie countered pointedly, her gaze bouncing between us. “You have a built-in excuse if you just own up to the secret you’ve all been keeping.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was referring to. “I don’t think that’s necessary. In fact ... .” I trailed off, uncertain. Honestly, I had no idea what more I could say.

  “We’re not using that as an excuse,” Thistle shot back. “We’ll just tell our mothers we don’t want to do it. Stop being ... well ... you.”

  “Keep pushing me, mouth,” Aunt Tillie warned. “You won’t like what happens. I have enough on my plate without having to worry about you.”

  Thistle rolled her eyes. “And here we go.”

  For her part, Hazel seemed more intrigued at the mention of a secret than anything else. “What excuse do you have built in to get out of the ritual spell?” she asked, her eyes keen as she looked between us. “The only thing I can think of is ... .” Realization dawned on her face and I recognized we were in real trouble a split-second before she started screeching.

  “Oh, you’re pregnant!” She swooped in on me and grabbed my hands. “That’s such wonderful news. How great for you.”

  “I’m not pregnant.” I jerked away from her. “I’m not stupid enough to forget how birth control works.”

  “Thanks, Bay,” Clove snapped, her eyes filling with tears. “As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough.”

  “Oh, don’t be that way. That’s not even you talking. It’s the hormones. I ... ow! What?” I turned away from Clove and focused on This
tle as she viciously tugged my ear. I was about to drag her into the other room and make her eat dirt when every pleasant thought I’d ever had fled.

  There, standing in the open doorway, were my mother, Twila and Marnie.

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered, my mouth going dry. “This isn’t good.”

  “Definitely not,” Thistle agreed. “Do you think we can play Aunt Tillie’s cat card and be really still? Maybe they won’t see us.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to work.”

  Sixteen

  “Explain yourselves.”

  Mom, Marnie and Twila dragged us into the family living quarters, which were separate from the rest of the inn, so they could scream at us without garnering attention from the guests. It was bad enough that they’d found out, but the pitying look Hazel shot us before we disappeared into the house was an added smack in the face.

  Speaking of that, I wanted to smack her in the face … with a brick. I knew that she hadn’t planned any of this, but if she’d just kept her mouth shut none of this would’ve happened.

  “I think she’s talking to you, Clove,” Thistle noted, throwing herself into one of the comfortable easy chairs.

  Clove looked terrified. I thought she might actually pass out. She was so pale I could practically see through her. To his credit, Sam stood between her and our mothers. He was trying to be a wall, but all he was doing was making himself a target.

  “Don’t yell at her,” he ordered, his hands clenched into fists at his side. It wasn’t that he was going to punch anyone as much as he was obviously trying to bolster himself. I felt bad for him. “She can’t take it.”

  “She can’t take it?” Marnie arched an eyebrow. As Clove’s mother, it was her job to deliver the ultimate diatribe. She looked as wan as her daughter. They were carbon copies of each other, so she painted an interesting picture. “Well, perhaps she’s not the only one who can’t take it. Maybe I can’t take it either.”

  Oh, that was a huge load of crap. “Nothing has happened to you,” I volunteered, drawing three sets of furious eyes. “You’re not pregnant so ... why don’t you get over yourselves?”