A Breath of Witchy Air

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I really need help.” I opened the journal Aunt Tillie gave me and turned to a page I’d marked with a Post-it note. “This is the part I don’t get. It says shades aren’t of this world. They once were, they’ve been drawn back, but they’re of a different world now. How does that make them different from ghosts?”

  Aunt Tillie dramatically rolled her eyes. “Good grief. Are we back to this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I can’t help you unless you get me out of this chair.” Aunt Tillie’s expression turned ferocious. “I mean it. Either cut me loose or go away. Those are your only two options.”

  “You have only one option and that’s not to cut her loose,” Marnie countered, wiping her hands on her apron and ignoring Landon as he snagged more bacon. “Why are you interested in shades anyway?”

  “Why?” I swiveled on the stool. “Do you know anything about them?”

  “I know several things about them,” Marnie confirmed. “I studied them at witch camp when I was a kid.”

  “What’s witch camp?” Landon asked.

  Marnie’s eyes twinkled. “Like summer camp for witches. Instead of making clay handprints and painting pottery, witches learn spells and how to gut a frog without ruining its intestines.”

  Landon swallowed hard. “Lovely.”

  “She’s joking about the intestines part,” I supplied.

  “You went?”

  “For three years. Then Aunt Tillie decided we were much too advanced for the classes they had us in and pitched a fit when they wouldn’t move us to the next level. So she yanked us out and called them all sorts of names.”

  “Yes, that was a lovely summer,” Twila agreed. “We thought we would be child-free for three weeks and instead we got stuck with four weeks of Aunt Tillie’s version of witch camp. We’re so very lucky the neighbors didn’t press charges when their car was hit by that runaway broom.”

  I risked a glance at Landon and found his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  “This family is hilarious,” he muttered, sobering. “If we have little witches, will they go to witch camp?”

  “That’s a long way off.”

  “Not too long,” Twila shot back. “You’re not getting any younger … and neither are your eggs. You don’t want a witch born from old eggs.”

  “Yes, that’s what happened with Twila,” Aunt Tillie said. “We decided to keep her anyway.”

  Twila glared. “You’re on my list.”

  “Whatever!” Aunt Tillie redoubled her efforts to escape from the ropes. “I need to get out of here right now!”

  “You’re stuck until Winnie decides your penance,” Marnie fired back. “You need to sit there and deal with it, because you can’t escape and Bay isn’t dumb enough to release you.”

  “She will if she wants information on shades.”

  “Not if I can help her.” Marnie reached over and grabbed the journal. “Now why are you worked up about shades again?”

  “Because that’s what I think the girls who were murdered turned into,” I replied. “They’re acting weird and that’s the only explanation that seems to make sense.”

  Marnie pursed her lips as she read. “Did the girls die at the same time?”

  “I don’t think so.” I looked to Landon for further clarification. “You pinned down the dates and times, right?”

  Landon nodded. “They died about twenty-four hours apart. One right after the other. Four days, four deaths.”

  “And then they stopped,” Marnie mused. I could practically see her mind working. “The thing is, shades are exceedingly rare. They sprung up out of Greek myths – and were created when necromancers tied them to a half-life even if they wanted to pass on.”

  That was interesting … and confusing.

  “Necromancers?” Landon wrinkled his nose. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

  “A necromancer is essentially a witch or wizard who can communicate with the dead,” I supplied. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “So you’re a necromancer?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I never really thought of it that way, but I guess I am. Although not really. I’m more of an enhanced witch than a necromancer. I … um … never called a spirit to me. I just stumble across them. I can talk to a spirit if it voluntarily stays behind, but I can’t conjure a spirit.”

  Aunt Tillie stopped struggling enough to listen to the conversation. She looked as if she wanted to say something and then quickly changed her mind. That’s when Marnie swooped in and dropped an absolute bombshell.

  “Unless that’s what happened this time,” Marnie noted, giving me an appraising look with fresh eyes. “Maybe you are a necromancer now.”

  I felt as if the oxygen had been stolen from my lungs. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, that’s interesting.” Twila ceased slicing bread and focused on me. “That would explain so much.”

  “It wouldn’t explain anything,” I protested, looking to Landon for help. “I’m not a necromancer.”

  He ran his hand over the back of my neck, but remained focused on Marnie. “Why do you think she might be a necromancer?”

  “I’m not!” I exploded.

  “Sweetie, it’s a simple question.” Landon’s tone was soft and reasonable. “I just want an answer. I understand this conversation is frustrating, but we need to deal with this if it’s true. It doesn’t sound that different to me.”

  “It’s really not,” Marnie supplied, refusing to meet my murderous gaze. “We’ve never had a necromancer in our family, but they’ve existed in other covens throughout the years. We always thought Bay took after Aunt Tillie because they both shared the same gift. It never occurred to us that Bay’s gift would grow.”

  “It occurred to you, though, didn’t it?” Landon focused on Aunt Tillie. “You suspected this. I saw the look on your face when Marnie brought it up. You wanted to bury it for a bit longer – perhaps until the game was done in Hemlock Cove – but you suspected.”

  “I didn’t suspect,” Aunt Tillie clarified. “I thought it was a possibility, especially after I did some research on shades. I can’t find any reason for four of them to show up here all at once, and in the same spot.”

  “That’s where their bodies were found,” I argued.

  “By you,” Landon said.

  “And only after you were traumatized by finding the bodies,” Aunt Tillie added. “I went up there last night. They were just hanging around, not moving other than to shift back and forth. I tried talking to them but it was as if they couldn’t hear me … or at least didn’t want to hear me. They are working in tandem – I agree with you there – but they didn’t answer my questions. I think there’s a specific reason for that.”

  “Maybe they just don’t like you,” I suggested.

  “Or maybe they answered you because you called them,” Aunt Tillie countered. “I’m not sure, so I don’t want you getting worked up, but I think it’s a possibility.”

  Her words caused my shoulders to slump. “But I don’t want to be a necromancer.”

  “Don’t be whiny,” Aunt Tillie snapped. “At least you’re not tied to a chair.”

  Landon slipped around me and sat on the open stool to my right. “Sweetie, I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. If you did this, well, we’ll deal with it. If you called them, you can send them away, right?”

  “In theory she should be able to do that,” Marnie agreed. “It might take her a bit of time to figure out what she’s doing and we might need to call in an expert to help.”

  Aunt Tillie groaned. “Not that old croaker biddy. You know I can’t stand her.”

  “Who is she talking about?” Landon asked, confused.

  “It doesn’t matter right now,” Marnie answered. “The thing is, we’ve talked about this possibility a few times in the past year, Bay. The fact that Thistle and Clove can hear ghosts when they’re close to you was our first clue, but when nothing else happened we de
cided to keep it to ourselves for the time being.”

  “So you’re saying I called those girls here after their deaths and I’m the reason they’re stuck here.” I felt sick to my stomach. “I’m an awful person.”

  “Knock that off.” Landon slipped his arm around my back and kissed my forehead. “You’re not an awful person. You didn’t know. I know you’re a bit thrown about this, but there’s no reason to get worked up. I swear that we’ll figure things out.”

  “What if we don’t?”

  “We will.”

  “But … .”

  “No.” Landon was firm as he shook his head. “We’ve been through far worse than this.”

  “Listen to the hairless monkey,” Aunt Tillie suggested. “This necromancer power might be really cool once you get the hang of it. You can call Winchester ghosts from the past to come and visit.”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me. “Like Grandma and Uncle Calvin.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead as a memory pushed to the forefront. “Uncle Calvin. I’ve heard him several times even though I shouldn’t have been able to. He always showed up when I was lost and looking for help. I … did I call him?”

  Aunt Tillie shrugged. “That’s the theory. You never saw him, though. You only heard him. We thought maybe you imagined it, so we weren’t sure how to react when you told us the stories.”

  “So I was either crazy or a necromancer?”

  “It was a fifty-fifty toss up and we had no idea which we preferred,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Now, you’ve got your answers and I’ve got to pee. Let me loose.”

  I glared at her. “I hope Mom makes you sit in that chair all day and you get cold sores on your butt.”

  “Now there’s my Bay.” Landon grinned as he leaned closer, groaning when his phone dinged and he had to dig to recover it. “This had better be good. I was just about to get some loving … and some more bacon.”

  “You’re done with bacon until breakfast,” Marnie chided, waving her spatula. “You’ve had enough.”

  Landon didn’t react to Marnie’s order, instead fixing his eyes on me and licking his lips. I’d seen that expression before and knew it wasn’t good.

  “Something bad happened, didn’t it?”

  “I think it depends on how you define ‘bad,’” Landon replied. “It seems Steven Foreman’s father called Chief Terry. Steven was forbidden to leave the house but disappeared in the middle of the night. He stole his father’s car, which is the only reason the father cares, and wants us to be on the lookout just in case his son is as stupid as he thinks he might be.”

  “Where would he go?” Twila asked.

  That answer was easy. “He’s coming here. He wants to finish the game.”

  Landon nodded. “That’s what I’m worried about, too.”

  “Well, great.” I hung my head and ignored the grunting noises Aunt Tillie made as she valiantly tried to escape from the chair.

  “I’m going to turn every single one of you into toads before this is all said and done. Or, wait, Kardashians. That’s even worse. You’d better start running now!”

  Unfortunately we had something else to fear besides Aunt Tillie’s dreaded Kardashian curse.

  “He’s probably already here.”

  Landon nodded. “Without a doubt. We need to prepare ourselves.”

  Twenty-Eight

  “Eat.”

  Landon tapped the side of my plate to get my attention.

  “What?” I shifted to glance down to where his fork poked at my food. “Did you say something?”

  He nodded. “You need to eat.”

  I forced a smile for his benefit. “I’m fine. I’m just … thinking.”

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking and now isn’t the time for it.” Landon kept his voice low. “We’ll figure it out. We just need a little time.”

  I pursed my lips as I dug into my hash browns. “I know you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.”

  My smile turned into a half-grimace. “It’s just not something I ever considered. I mean … I’m even weirder than I originally thought.”

  “You’re not weird,” Landon protested automatically.

  His dogged insistence on pretending that was true caused me to smile. “Really? You’ve met my family.”

  “Fine. You’re a little weird. That’s why I fell for you in the first place.”

  “This is something more,” I rubbed my cheek. “I caused those girls to return as ghosts … er, shades. They’re here because of me. They’re miserable because of me.”

  Landon looked around to make sure no one was listening before lowering his voice and leaning closer. “You didn’t know and we’re still not one-hundred percent sure that’s the truth.”

  It was the only thing that made sense, whether he wanted to admit it or not. “I did it. I can kind of … feel it. I’m to blame.”

  “I don’t like the word ‘blame,’” Landon groused, chomping on a slice of bacon. “You didn’t know. Now you do. We’ll figure it out.”

  I heaved out a sigh. “I can’t help feeling responsible.”

  “Well, you’re not.” Landon handed me one of his bacon slices. “You need fuel, so eat something.”

  I snorted as I took the bacon. “You must be really worried if you’re giving me your bacon.”

  “There’s always more bacon.” To prove his point, Landon used the tongs to grab four slices from the center platter. “As for you, we need to have a talk about your plans for the day.”

  Yup. I should’ve seen that coming. From the moment Landon found out Steven Foreman was on the loose and most likely heading toward Hemlock Cove he’d turned himself into a hyper-vigilant soldier determined to protect me and everyone I came into contact with.

  “I’m covering the game.” I kept my voice even and smooth. “Part of their big battle thing is going down today, so I will be watching the gamers as that happens.”

  Landon narrowed his eyes. “Why? You don’t care about the game.”

  “I don’t, but it’s bringing a lot of people into town. I can’t ignore it simply because I don’t like it. That’s not how the news business works.”

  “That’s how the news business would work if I was in charge,” Landon grumbled, dragging a hand through his hair. “I know you can’t just ignore the game … .”

  “But you want me to.”

  “I really do want you to,” Landon agreed, refusing to allow my tone to dissuade him from the argument he wanted to make. “It’s not a possibility, so I want us to compromise and come up with some ground rules. We also need to take into consideration that a big storm is supposed to pass through this afternoon. I don’t want you out in it if I can help it.”

  “Since when are you a fan of compromise?”

  “I’ve always been a fan of compromise.”

  “Um … that’s a huge freaking lie.”

  “It’s not,” Landon argued. “I like a good compromise … as long as I win.”

  I shook my head. “Then it’s not a compromise.”

  “I think that’s a matter of perspective, but I’m not going to let you derail this conversation with an argument so it doesn’t really matter. We’re talking about your safety. I want you safe. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Well, great,” I grumbled, mashing my eggs and hash browns together. “There’s nothing I love more than a talk about my safety. Why don’t we talk about your safety instead? I think that’s only fair since you were injured.”

  “Absolutely.” Landon looked far too agreeable. “Let’s talk about my safety. I will be spending the day with Chief Terry and Agent Ashton. Now, while Chuck isn’t really a force to be reckoned with physically, Chief Terry is. He’s the chief of police, in fact. The top cop. The toughest police officer in the area. I’d say I’ll be the safest man in town thanks to my proximity to Chief Terry.”

  I frowned. “I walked right into that one.”

  “You really did,” Landon agr
eed, not missing a beat. “So … we’ve discussed my safety for the day. Let’s discuss yours.”

  I exhaled heavily, frustration clogging my brain. “I’ll be downtown the entire day. I’ll be out in the open. What’s safer than that?”

  “Handcuffing you to me, but I know you’d put up a fight about that.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, I have an idea.” Landon’s grin was charming. “I’m still willing to risk it if I don’t like your personal safety plan.”

  “I don’t need a plan to keep myself safe,” I argued. “I’ll be downtown, where hundreds of teenagers and college students plan to join forces to play a game on their phones. Who would be dumb enough to approach me in the middle of that?”

  “We’re dealing with a serial killer. You’d be surprised what a serial killer would or would not do to get close to prey.”

  “I don’t like it when you make me sound like an animal.”

  “And I don’t like it when you try to pick a fight to avoid a serious conversation,” Landon shot back. “Bay, I’m serious. You have to be careful today. Steven Foreman is in the wind.”

  “We don’t know he’s guilty.”

  “We don’t,” Landon confirmed. “We don’t know he isn’t, either. We don’t know who killed those girls or why. All we know is that whatever happened is tied to this game.”

  “How do you know that?” Ashton asked, poking his nose into our conversation as he sipped his juice. “I haven’t been able to cut through all the layers to confirm that.”

  Landon didn’t as much as blink when called out by his colleague. “That’s the assumption we’re going on.”

  “But … we don’t have confirmation.”

  “That’s why it’s an assumption.” Landon pinned Ashton with a fiery look. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m having a private conversation with my girlfriend. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have it at the breakfast table,” Mom suggested with faux brightness as she set a fresh coffee carafe onto the table.

  “I’d have thought you’d agree with me on this one,” Landon argued. “Don’t you want to keep your daughter safe?”