4 Witching On A Star

by Amanda M. Lee

  Once there, Thistle set up the candles and lit them, arranging them in a small circle. We each sat on the ground, clasping each other’s hands before looking to the sky. Since there were only three of us, we did a simple summoning chant.

  Nothing happened.

  “Well, that was a waste of time,” Clove said, moving to get up.

  “Try another spell,” Thistle suggested.

  Clove sighed and plopped back down on the ground. “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.”

  “Like what?” I ignored Clove’s constant stream of complaints.

  Thistle shrugged. “We really should have paid more attention when our mothers tried to teach us this stuff.”

  “That doesn’t really help us now,” Clove complained.

  “Maybe we should just call her,” I suggested.

  “Isn’t that what we just did?” Thistle asked.

  “I mean, just call her name.”

  “Oh. Okay. Erika!”

  “Erika!” I joined in.

  Clove rolled her eyes but added her voice to the chorus. After a second, Erika flickered and then appeared in the illuminated circle. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for you,” I said, relief washing over me when I saw her.

  “I’m here,” Erika said. “I’m always here. I told you that.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s just that . . . never mind. Did you find the boat again?”

  Erika shook her head. “It wasn’t there. It went away.”

  “Where do you think it went?”

  “How should I know?”

  Okay, that was a stupid question. “Erika, I know you’ve had it rough,” I said sympathetically. “But I need you to do something for me.”

  “What?” Erika’s eyes widened.

  “I need you to try to remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “What happened to you?”

  “I told you,” Erika said. “I was sick and then I went to sleep.”

  “Okay,” I said calmly. “Tell me about the boat.”

  “It was big.”

  “How big?”

  “Big.”

  “Okay,” I tried a different tactic. “Was it like fifty feet long big or bigger?”

  “I told you, I don’t know how to count.”

  “This isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Thistle muttered under her breath. “Erika, were you always on the boat?”

  “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “You said that your home was a warmer place,” Thistle said. “Did you get on the boat by your home? Was your home by water, too?”

  “Oh,” Erika mused. “No, I never saw the water by my home.”

  “So, how did you get to the boat?”

  Erika cocked her head to the side. “I don’t remember.”

  “Did you go in a car?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Thistle looked at me, frustration slashing across her face. “When was the last time you saw your mom?”

  I was surprised at the question, but the complexity of it was simple and yet multi-layered at the same time.

  Erika smiled brightly. “She was sewing my dress,” Erika gestured at the white frock she was wearing. “I had a small rip in the hem. She was fixing it for me.”

  “And what did she say?” Thistle prodded.

  “She said to go and get my brother, Solomon, and tell him it was time for dinner.”

  “Did you get him?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Did you have dinner?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Thistle rubbed her head tiredly. “Did your mom say goodbye to you? Before you got on the boat? Was your mom on the boat?”

  “My mom wasn’t on the boat,” Erika said. “I don’t remember saying goodbye to her.” Erika jerked her head up, scanning the woods behind us fearfully.

  “What is it?” I started to get to my feet.

  “Someone is out there.”

  “Run,” I whispered. “Hide. We’ll find you again tomorrow.”

  Erika was gone before I finished speaking. Thistle, Clove and I climbed to our feet and turned to the dark tree line that had been at our backs. At first, I didn’t hear anything. Then, the snap of a twig told me that she had been right – someone was out there.

  “We should go back to the house,” Clove whispered.

  “How do you suggest we do that?” Thistle asked. “Wave our magic wands, click our ruby red shoes together and wish for it?”

  “Sarcasm isn’t going to help us.”

  “I wish Aunt Tillie was here,” Clove lamented.

  I would never have said it out loud, but I was mentally agreeing with her.

  Another twig cracked and then the bushes to our left rustled.

  “Alright, that did it,” Thistle snapped. “This is our property. I refuse to be scared on our property.” She strode to the bushes and peered behind them boldly. My fear told me to stay here, but my loyalty to Thistle urged me to back her up. Loyalty won out.

  When I got to the bushes and looked behind them, relief washed over me – quickly followed by anger. “What the hell?”

  Landon and Marcus were both crouched down behind the bushes. Landon seemed to be considering what to say when Marcus solved that particular problem for him. “We weren’t spying!”

  Landon sighed and stood up. “We were spying.”

  “Really?” Thistle asked sarcastically.

  “Why?”

  Landon looked at me, shame and anger warring for dominance on his face. “Because I knew you were lying.”

  “I wasn’t lying,” I countered. “Technically, I wasn’t lying,” I corrected.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “We didn’t leave the property,” I said.

  “You’re not taking a bath.”

  “I was going to do that when we were done,” I said.

  “Done doing what?”

  Oh, screw it. “Holding a séance.”

  Landon looked around the clearing in confusion. “A séance?”

  “We called Erika.”

  “Did she come?”

  “She did,” I said.

  “And what did she say?”

  “Who is Erika?” Marcus asked.

  “A ghost,” Thistle said. “She died on a boat and we’re trying to figure out exactly when it happened.”

  “Oh,” Marcus said. “Did she tell you?”

  “No,” Thistle shook her head. “She’s all over the place. Then she heard you guys and ran away.”

  “That’s too bad,” Marcus said. “Call her back. We promise to be quiet.”

  I glanced at Thistle. Marcus was clearly curious about ghosts – which was better than fearful, I guess.

  “You wouldn’t be able to see her,” Thistle said.

  “Can you see her?”

  “No,” Thistle admitted. “If Bay is around, we can hear her, though.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Oh, it’s cool, though,” Marcus said.

  “How is that cool?” Landon looked irritated.

  “It’s like stuff you see in movies,” Marcus said easily. “I think that’s cool.”

  “I think I’m getting a headache,” Landon lamented.

  Another twig snapped. This time, it was on the far side of the clearing. Landon went from agitated to FBI agent in one second flat. His body tensed and then he strode over to the other side of the clearing to investigate.

  The four of us stood where we were, watching.

  Landon growled as he searched through the bushes. “What are you doing out here?”

  I watched with wide-eyed wonder as Landon reached down and dragged Aunt Tillie into the clearing. She didn’t look happy about being discovered.

  “This is undignified.”

  “What are you doing out here?” Landon repeated the question.

  “Taking a walk.”

  I looked her up and down, my eyes
lingering on the bag she was carrying. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why don’t I believe her?” Landon asked, pulling the bag from Aunt Tillie, who only put up a token fight before she relinquished it.

  “Because you’re not stupid,” Thistle replied.

  Landon unzipped the bag and looked inside of it. Disbelief registered across his face before he held it out towards me. “What is that?”

  Uh-oh.

  I moved to his side, taking the bag from him and peering into it. I frowned when I saw its contents. “What are those?” I questioned Aunt Tillie.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “That’s an ugly thing to say.”

  “Just tell me what’s in the bag.”

  “I have no idea,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “You packed it,” I reminded her.

  “I’m old, I forget things. It must be the dementia.”

  “Oh, just let that go,” Thistle sighed, picking her way over to us and taking the bag from me. She looked inside and then turned to Aunt Tillie incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “That depends, what do you think it is?”

  “It’s some kind of larvae.”

  “Like for bugs?” I took a step away from Thistle and the bag.

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “Where were you taking this? And what kind of bugs?” I asked.

  “And where did you get them?” Thistle added.

  “I ordered them off the Internet.”

  We had to find out where she was shopping, I swear.

  “What are they?”

  “Butterflies,” Aunt Tillie responded coldly. “They’re butterflies.”

  “Why would you be sneaking around at night with a bag full of butterfly larvae?” Clove asked suspiciously.

  “I am not sneaking,” Aunt Tillie countered. “This is my property. You can’t sneak around on your own property.”

  “You can if you’re hiding something from your nieces and grand-nieces,” I shot back. “So, I ask again, why are you sneaking around with a bag full of butterfly larvae?”

  “They’re not ready to swarm yet,” Aunt Tillie admitted. “I couldn’t risk your mothers finding them and destroying them.”

  “Why would they kill butterflies?” Clove asked.

  “Because they’re not just butterflies,” Thistle interjected. “She’s done something to them.”

  “Why?” Landon asked.

  “My guess? Because she’s enchanted them so they’ll do something evil and she plans on releasing them at the Dragonfly,” I replied.

  “You’re on my list now, too,” Aunt Tillie threatened.

  “It sounds like a pretty long list,” Landon sighed.

  “It’s getting longer every minute,” Aunt Tillie agreed, narrowing her eyes at him suggestively.

  “Well, I’m going to take the . . . larvae, and you’re going to go back to the inn, and we’re going to go back to the guesthouse and I’m going to try and pretend like this entire night never happened.”

  “Good for you, Sparky,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.

  “Marcus,” Landon barked. “I want you to walk Aunt Tillie back to the inn, make sure she goes inside and then join us at the guesthouse.”

  Marcus didn’t even attempt to argue with Landon. He moved to Aunt Tillie’s side quickly and directed her out of the clearing. She complained bitterly the whole time.

  “I’m not going to forget this,” Aunt Tillie warned. “You’re all on my list.”

  “Fine,” Landon waved her off.

  Once they were gone, Landon fixed me with an angry glare. “We’re going back to your place and we’re going to bed. I can’t even . . . I don’t even . . . I just want some sleep right now.”

  “Okay,” I replied worriedly.

  “You people . . . you give me a headache.”

  Landon stalked out of the clearing, but not before snatching Aunt Tillie’s bag from Thistle and slinging it over his shoulder. I heard him mutter something, but I only caught three words: crazy and loony bin.

  Thistle turned to me. “I think we might have broken him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” I said. “He just needs some sleep.”

  “You better give him a little treat when we get back. You know, take his mind off things.”

  “Yeah,” Clove agreed. “He looks like he’s about ready to flip out.”

  “He said he wouldn’t flip out.”

  “We make people crazy,” Thistle said. “That’s our family’s true gift.”

  All three of us jumped when we heard another twig snap, this one was back in the direction Marcus and Aunt Tillie had fled.

  Thistle sighed. “It’s probably just Aunt Tillie being . . . well, Aunt Tillie.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I stopped to stare at the area one last time, though. A chill ran through me.

  “Bay!”

  I pulled my gaze from the spot I had been staring and hurried after Landon and my cousins. I was actually looking forward to this night ending, too. Sometimes my family made me tired, as well.

  Just don’t tell Aunt Tillie.

  Nineteen

  “What is that smell?”

  “What smell?” Landon mumbled from his spot under the covers next to me.

  “I don’t know, breakfast or something,” I replied, snuggling in closer to him. I felt his arms come around me, pulling me closer, and I exhaled a sigh of relief that he didn’t pull away. He’d been fairly angry when we returned to the guesthouse the previous evening. While he hadn’t been overtly cold when we went to bed, he wasn’t his flirtatious self either.

  Landon paused, his face buried in my hair for a second, and then he sat up straight. “It does smell good. Like bacon.”

  “I don’t think we have bacon,” I said. “We really need to go grocery shopping.”

  “Obviously someone is cooking something.” Landon climbed out of bed and I took a second to enjoy the view. Lean muscles, toned skin, narrow hips, cute butt. He really did have the whole package. When you added his dimples and soulful eyes, he looked just good enough to eat.

  Landon pulled on his jeans and shirt and, when he turned around, caught me checking him out. He smirked when I reddened. “I can have these pants off in less than ten seconds.”

  I considered the offer. “Let’s see if something is really being cooked out there first,” I said.

  “You don’t want to work up an appetite first?”

  The truth was, I was already pretty hungry. When my stomach growled, Landon extended his hand to pull me out of bed. “I don’t think I’m what you’re hungry for right now.”

  I padded out to the living room, expecting to find Thistle and Clove toiling in the kitchen, but instead found them standing in the living room staring at each other accusingly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You don’t know yet?” Thistle looked infuriated.

  “Don’t know what?”

  “You don’t smell that?”

  I glanced at the two of them warily. “I thought you two were cooking breakfast.”

  “Really?” Thistle asked sarcastically. “When have I ever cooked you breakfast?”

  “Well, then, what’s that smell?”

  “It’s bacon,” Clove said grimly.

  “Yeah, I figured that out,” I replied irritably. “That’s why I thought you were cooking breakfast.”

  “No,” Thistle shook her head. “We’re not cooking anything.”

  “Then where is it coming from?”

  Landon, who had been standing behind me, leaned in and sniffed my hair curiously. “It’s coming from you.”

  “It’s coming from them, too,” Marcus said helpfully from his spot in the kitchen where he was sipping from a cup of coffee. “They all smell like cooking bacon.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said, furrowing my brow. Then, suddenly, I realize
d. “Aunt Tillie.”

  “You think?” Thistle shot back. “I’m going to find that old lady and kill her.”

  “Why would she do this?” Clove whined.

  I was surprised when I felt Landon move in closer behind me and nuzzle his face against my hair. “Really? This turns you on?” I asked him blandly.

  “You smell really good,” Landon admitted. “I can’t help it. Who doesn’t love the smell of bacon?”

  “And what do you think people are going to say when they smell us out in public?” I asked him.

  “Well, they better not get close enough to get a good whiff,” Landon said pragmatically. “You’re going to be beating men off with a stick if they smell you.”

  “Yeah, a hot dog on a stick,” Thistle spat out.

  “She’s making me stay over here,” Marcus lamented. “I had the same reaction you did.”

  “Let’s go back to bed,” Landon suggested.

  “I thought we were having breakfast?” I reminded him.

  “That’s exactly what I have planned.”

  “I’m a little freaked out that you’re more interested me now than you’ve ever been before – and all because I smell like bacon.”

  “Do you think you taste like bacon?”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re not going to find out . . . hey, did you just lick my face?”

  “You do taste like bacon,” Landon said excitedly.

  Marcus’ eyes brightened from across the room as he focused on Thistle.

  “Let’s just go back to bed for a little while,” Landon pleaded. “I promise I’ll buy you breakfast afterwards.”

  “It better be a big breakfast,” I complained, but I let him drag me back to the bedroom. What? I was kind of interested to see what would happen.

  TWO INCREDIBLY enthusiastic hours later, Landon and I were leaving one of the small diners downtown after he had delivered on my promised breakfast.

  “Best morning ever,” Landon announced once we were outside.

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” I replied, although the glow I had seen emanating from my own skin when we left home a half hour before had been proof that I couldn’t really argue with his assertion. “I still don’t know how I’m going to explain this to anyone else who smells it.”

  “How long do you think it will last?” Landon asked.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea. It depends on how mad she was when she conjured her curse.”