Witchin' Around the Clock

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Can’t you make him stop doing that?”

  Landon was making kissing noises for Peg’s benefit.

  “Not so far,” I replied ruefully, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I wish he would kiss me that way; alas, I don’t rate as high as the pig.”

  “Don’t be jealous, Bay,” Landon chided. “I have room in my heart for both of you.”

  I shook my head and focused on the woman staring at me from the other side of the table. I recognized her, of course. I’d managed to avoid her for the better part of the day yesterday. Apparently my luck wasn’t going to hold. “Hello, Hazel.”

  “Bay.” The smile she shot me was full of sunshine. “It’s good to see you. I was beginning to wonder if you were avoiding me.”

  “Avoiding you? No. I don’t live in the inn.”

  “Oh, no?” Hazel’s eyebrows drew together. “I was under the impression you lived here.”

  “I live in the guesthouse on the property, but it’s a decent walk, and we were out late at the festival last night.”

  “Yes, I think I saw you.” Her eyes drifted to Landon. “Your friend was dragging you into the kissing booth and you were complaining about bacon in his teeth.”

  “That’s a regular occurrence for them,” Aunt Tillie replied as she sat at the head of the table. “Why are you so interested in Bay anyway?”

  “I’ll have you know that I’m an interesting person,” I countered.

  “She totally is,” Landon offered from his spot on the floor. “She’s the most interesting person I know, isn’t she?” He smiled indulgently at Peg as the pig wiggled her butt. “She’s awesome.”

  “I’ve always been interested in Bay,” Hazel replied. “She’s an interesting girl. As for you, Mr. ... I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Landon Michaels,” I supplied. “We live together.”

  “I figured that out myself,” Hazel noted. “How did the two of you meet?”

  Oh, well, that was an interesting story. “Um ... .” I trailed off, uncertain, and found the brunette I’d seen with Masterson the night before eyeing me curiously from the other side of the table. She didn’t look impressed with what she saw.

  “I’m an FBI agent,” Landon volunteered. “I met Bay when I was undercover and she was working on an article.” He was purposely vague. “We hit it off and have been together ever since.”

  “Not the entire time,” Aunt Tillie muttered, referring to a brief period after Landon learned I was a witch. He said he needed time to think. It was enough to break my heart, but in hindsight he wasn’t gone all that long.

  “Thank you for bringing that up,” Landon muttered, his gaze dark. “I don’t think we hear that story nearly enough.”

  “There’s a story?” Hazel brightened considerably. “I love stories.”

  “It’s not a story for you,” Aunt Tillie chastised. “It’s only a story for me.”

  “It shouldn’t be a story for anyone,” Landon groused. He’d apparently lost interest in Peg, because he was sliding into the chair next to me and pouring coffee. “I hate that story.”

  I patted his knee under the table. “She’s just trying to irritate you. Let it go.”

  “Well, either way, you make a strikingly handsome couple,” Hazel offered. “It’s obvious you’re happy, which is exactly what I always wanted for you. When you were a child, I saw a hint of darkness in you that I wasn’t always comfortable with. You still have the darkness, but you seem to have mastered it.”

  Landon frowned as he cupped his hands around his mug of coffee. “Bay isn’t dark.”

  “I didn’t mean her hair or anything,” Hazel said with a laugh.

  “And darkness isn’t always bad,” the brunette added with an annoying chortle. “Oh, I’m Evie, by the way. Actually Evanora, but I go by Evie.”

  I frowned. “Like after the witch in The Wizard of Oz?”

  She nodded. “Exactly!”

  “Was your mother a fan?”

  “Oh, no. I chose the name myself. My old name was boring. This one fits me better. As for darkness, like I said, it’s not always bad.”

  “And I really didn’t mean anything bad by it,” Hazel stressed.

  “I know what you meant and she isn’t dark.” Landon was firm. “Everything inside of her is goodness and light.”

  “Except for when she’s crabby in the morning,” Aunt Tillie added, causing Landon to nod.

  “Except then,” he agreed. “Once she’s had her morning dose of coffee, she’s fine.”

  Hazel was clearly taken aback by his vehemence. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. You mustn’t think that. I just ... Bay was always an interesting child. She had a lot of power, but didn’t use it. She spent all her time running around with her cousins rather than studying.”

  “And now she spends all of her time running around with this one.” Aunt Tillie jerked her thumb in Landon’s direction. “Bay isn’t interested in studying. Never has been.”

  I wanted to argue the point. The problem was, it was true. Aunt Tillie tried to give us magical lessons as kids. She insisted it was crucial. We always bowed out because we had more important things to do ... and Aunt Tillie was often tyrannical when it came to serving as a tutor. Now, given what I’d done to the ghosts, I couldn’t help wondering if that was a mistake.

  As if reading my mind, Landon leaned closer. “You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t listen to either of them.”

  He was so earnest I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome ... and it’s true.”

  “Knock that off,” Aunt Tillie warned, jabbing at us with a crooked finger. “You have sex in your eyes and I don’t like seeing it when I’m about to have breakfast. Stop being gross.”

  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 s
oulful 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.
r />   “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.”