Flip the Witch Switch

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Of course, there is the off chance that your aunt will go before Peg,” she continued. “Then we will be left to care for Peg, and she didn’t bother asking if we would be up to that. Our problems are not with Peg but the manner in which your aunt brought her into this house.”

  Ugh. I hated it when she used her pragmatic voice. That meant she was willing to argue for the long haul, something that didn’t bode well for me.

  “Mom, I’m not trying to be difficult.” I opted to change tactics. “You know I love Aunt Tillie. I take her quite often to give you guys a break. I don’t think this is the right time, though. We’re going to be dealing with a traumatized ghost and a potential murderer.”

  “Oh, puh-leez!” Mom rolled her eyes, which told me I’d already lost the argument. “There’s no way a murderer is going to be hanging around the camp at the same time you and Landon are setting up shop. If he is out there, he’ll leave as soon as he realizes he’s not alone.

  “That is if he hasn’t left already,” she continued. “Between the cops running around and you guys showing up willy-nilly, that camp would be a stupid place for a murderer to stay. He’s probably already moved on.”

  I hated that she had a point. “Mom ... .”

  “Bay, your great-aunt doesn’t have many years left on this earth,” she said, spatula in hand. “She loves a good adventure. This adventure is relatively safe in the grand scheme of things. Plus, she loves you girls. She wants to spend time with you. I can’t believe you would deny her this.

  “I hate to say it because you’re my child, but it’s selfish,” she continued, barely taking a breath. “The fact that you won’t give of yourself for your elderly great-aunt speaks volumes about your character ... and it’s something I never saw in you. I feel ashamed.”

  My cheeks flushed hot even though I couldn’t help feeling she was manipulating me. “Fine. She can come.” I barked out the words before I thought better of them. “Are you happy?”

  Mom instantly smiled. “I knew you would see things my way.”

  The drastic change in her demeanor confirmed my suspicion. “Oh, you just manipulated me.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply think it’s good for you to spend time with your elders. Aunt Tillie won’t be around forever. The more memories you have of her, the better.”

  It all sounded perfectly reasonable. But I knew better.

  “Stuff it,” I hissed, keeping my voice low. The rest of the family was in the dining room, but they would come running the second they realized we were fighting. “You want a break from Aunt Tillie and you’re pushing her on me because you think this is the easiest way to get what you want. Don’t bother denying it.”

  “I think you’re starting to show signs of paranoia. You haven’t been in Aunt Tillie’s special crop, have you?”

  Aunt Tillie grew pot on the side, something that was illegal in Michigan until the most recent election. Now she could have up to twelve plants legally. That was going to change the makeup of her greenhouse, even if my mother and aunts put up a fight. That wasn’t the debate for today, though.

  “Just admit what you’re doing,” I insisted.

  “I’m making sure you spend quality time with your great-aunt. I have no problem admitting it.”

  I tried for another five minutes, but Mom brushed me off and then ordered me out of the kitchen. Chief Terry and Landon had turned to other topics when I landed in my seat.

  “What’s wrong?” Landon asked when I slouched in my chair.

  “Mom says we have to take Aunt Tillie with us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she doesn’t think we spend enough quality time with her.”

  “Why really?” Landon asked, flicking his eyes to the woman in question. She looked smug as she sat at the head of the table.

  “Because I interrupted Winnie and Terry when I conducted my monthly fire drill last night,” Aunt Tillie replied, unruffled. “Terry doesn’t sleep in anything but his skin, just for the record. He was not expecting a fire drill and I caught him unaware.”

  I was mortified when I turned to Chief Terry. “Aunt Tillie saw you naked?”

  “That’s a wonderful two dates you’ve had,” Landon drawled. “You got naked with Winnie and Aunt Tillie in less than forty-eight hours. That has to be some sort of record.”

  “Stuff it!” Chief Terry’s neck was so red it looked as if it burned to the touch. “I had no idea that monthly fire drills were part of the deal here. I mean ... how could I have known that?”

  “You could’ve asked,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes. “You’re the reason.”

  “I’m the reason for what?” Chief Terry sputtered. “I didn’t do anything. I was minding my own business.”

  “His own naked business,” Landon echoed, grinning.

  “You’re the reason Aunt Tillie is being forced on us,” I said. “Mom wants to give you a chance to get over your embarrassment, so we have to take a shift as babysitters.”

  “Hey!” Aunt Tillie was obviously affronted. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be a great help to you at that camp. Just you wait and see.”

  Oh, I had no doubt I would see exactly what she had to offer ... and for hours on end. Suddenly our casual outing was turning into something more, and I didn’t like it.

  “This is going to suck,” I complained.

  Sixteen

  By the time we added all of Aunt Tillie’s “necessities” — including four pairs of shoes, three pairs of leggings, an ax, an extensive lunch spread, a kazoo and a fifth of Jack Daniels — it was well after ten before we made it to the camp.

  Landon, who often had trouble maintaining his cool, was a complete and total bear by the time we parked.

  “Let’s look around and decide where everything is going to go before we start unloading,” he suggested, his voice low and gravelly.

  I thought about pressing him on the issue, insisting that he perk up, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood. To be fair, neither was I. Aunt Tillie was never part of my ghost-wooing plan. We had to deal with her, though, so there was no way to get around it.

  “Fine.” I hopped out of the Explorer and pulled open the rear door so Aunt Tillie could exit. “Come on. You can come with me and decide where you want to sleep,” I suggested.

  Aunt Tillie didn’t argue, instead handing me Peg so I could ease the pig to the ground. “Make sure you have her leash,” she ordered. “I don’t want her to take off. I’ll make you catch her if she gets away.”

  “I’ve got her leash. I ... .” I turned when Landon snagged the leash from me and started walking toward the water. “What are you doing?”

  “Spending quality time with Peg while I get myself in order,” he replied without hesitation. “I won’t be gone long. Don’t wander too far away.”

  I watched him go, a mixture of trepidation and amusement washing over me.

  “What’s his deal?” Aunt Tillie asked as she came up beside me. “Why is he so grumpy? He was in a good mood last night.”

  “That’s because he assumed that with three couples and three cabins the sleeping arrangements would lean toward the romantic. Your arrival throws his plans into disarray.”

  “He doesn’t have to worry. I have no intention of sleeping with you guys. I brought my tent. Peg and I are sleeping close to the fire.”

  “You brought your tent?” I slanted my eyes to her. “I didn’t see a tent.”

  “It’s in there, and don’t worry, busybody. I don’t want to be anywhere near Landon and his lusty lips. I can guarantee that. Besides, I have my own list of things I want to do while we’re here.”

  That was worrisome. “What list?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  I considered arguing and then let it go. “Fine. I’m sure it has something to do with you casting spells and drawing wards to mess with Margaret should she get this land. I don’t particularly want her to have it either, so I suggest you make sure the c
urses won’t affect others should someone else manage to buy the land ... and make sure nothing can be tracked back to us.”

  Aunt Tillie mock saluted. “I’ve got it all under control.”

  WE SPENT THE NEXT HOUR wandering from cabin to cabin. Aunt Tillie lost interest in them relatively quickly, but the office — which was on the far side of the parcel — held her interest for an extended period. So long, in fact, I felt the need to go looking for her.

  “What are you doing in here?” I asked when I found her flipping through the old file cabinets at the back of the ramshackle office. “What is all that?”

  “Old camp records,” Aunt Tillie replied as she sat on a padded chair, which I eyed dubiously.

  “I can’t believe you’re sitting on that. Aren’t you worried rats have nested in there and something is about to come alive and bite you in the butt?”

  “Rats aren’t scary. In fact, they make great pets. They only live two years, though, and I don’t want to say goodbye to a pet after only two years.”

  I thought about what Mom had said about Peg. “Did you know that teacup pigs live only five years?” I asked finally.

  “I know that the internet says a lot of things that aren’t always true. Trust me. I tried that Pop Rocks and soda thing with Margaret. Total bunk. That’s how long a teacup pig lasts if you don’t take care of it. I plan to spoil Peg rotten so she’ll last as long as me.”

  “Good to know.” I removed the pad from a nearby chair and sat on the bare wood. It was uncomfortable but better than worrying about what might be crawling around under my posterior. “Is there anything good in these files?”

  “I guess it depends on what you’re looking for. I’m looking for a reason to make sure Margaret can’t get her hands on this property.”

  “Like what?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s ancient Indian burial grounds or something.”

  “This isn’t Poltergeist.”

  “That was a cemetery. Ancient Indian burial grounds is Pet Sematary.”

  “Is that better?”

  “Definitely. Who doesn’t love a good zombie cat?”

  I laughed at her response. “Fair enough.” I grabbed a nearby file and flipped it open, frowning at the contents. “Holy ... this is a list of kids who stayed here in the summer of 1987.”

  Aunt Tillie’s expression was blank as she lifted her eyes to me. “So?”

  “So, maybe there’s one of these files for every year ... including the last one when Vicky was here.”

  “Do you think one of the kids killed her?”

  “Probably not, but I’m not ruling it out. I mean ... we were teenagers. The boys were always kept on the other side of the lake — we should probably head over there and take a look, by the way — and it’s entirely possible that a teenaged boy lost his cool and did something to her. Whether it’s probable, who can say?”

  “Well ... if you head to the other side of the lake I’m not going. I’m more interested in this side of the lake. Margaret isn’t interested in the parcel on the other side of the lake.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that your infatuation with Mrs. Little is unhealthy?”

  “The same could be said for your infatuation with Landon, but it has cleared your skin right up.” She shot me an exaggerated wink as I glared at her. “Now, shush. I’m reading.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  We lapsed into silence for a long time. I moved to the floor so I could start spreading out the files. I’d managed to find five years’ worth of records. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the year I was looking for and the files were tossed about as if they’d been purposely strewn in a hundred different directions during a search years before.

  One file I found was of particular interest. It held a series of glossy photographs — the sort that had been hand-developed in a darkroom on old paper stock — clumped together in a heap. Some of the photographs were stuck together, so it was slow going as I tried to separate them without destroying them. Still, as I went through them I found numerous photos of Vicky ... and myself.

  “What are you doing?”

  I’d been sifting through the photographs so long I forgot it had been a while since either of us had spoken. “Just looking.” My voice cracked, taking me by surprise. Was I crying? When did that happen? “I guess I got a little emotional seeing all the old photos. Look at this one.” I held up a photograph so she could see it. Clove, Thistle and I stood together as kids — we were probably thirteen, twelve and eleven at the time — and our arms were linked. It was in pristine condition. “I’m going to keep it and frame it.”

  When Aunt Tillie didn’t immediately respond, I turned to find her staring at a spot behind me. She was barely paying attention to me, which made me wonder if the question had even been directed at me.

  “Who are you ... ?” My heart skipped a beat when I caught sight of Vicky floating behind me. She was almost invisible, her countenance flimsy and weak. The tears running down her ethereal face threw me for a loop. “Vicky?”

  She jerked up her head and met my gaze, surprise wafting over her features. She didn’t stay long. She didn’t wait for me to ask a question or remind her of who I was. Instead, she simply disappeared, leaving no trace that she’d ever been present.

  “What the ... ?” I shifted my head and found Aunt Tillie watching me with unveiled interest. “What? I’m not making her stay no matter what you and the others think. She’ll come around on her own. I know it.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Aunt Tillie said finally, her expression thoughtful. “Why were you crying?”

  “I ... don’t know.” I honestly didn’t have an answer to the question. “I didn’t realize I was until you said something.”

  “I wasn’t looking at you when I asked the question,” she admitted. “I saw the ghost. She was watching you, looking over your shoulder at the photos. She was crying ... and you were crying.”

  “Maybe we were both lost in the moment.”

  “Or maybe you were picking up on her emotions.”

  The simple statement shouldn’t have shaken me … and yet it did. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Of course it’s possible.” Aunt Tillie straightened, her hunt for documents to drive Mrs. Little crazy temporarily forgotten. “You’re a necromancer. I should’ve considered the possibility before this. It makes sense.”

  I was bewildered. “What makes sense?”

  “The fact that you’ve been picking up on the emotions of ghosts for a long time. I first noticed it back when Landon was on his undercover assignment. You were weepy and morose. I don’t think that was a coincidence.”

  “I was being a baby,” I countered. “I was feeling sorry for myself because I missed him.”

  “That might be part of it, but that wasn’t all of it. I thought it was strange at the time – even considered that you were pregnant – but that was before we realized you were a necromancer. You had a lot going on then and it was easy to explain away your raw emotions thanks to what was going on with Landon. I think it was more, though.”

  Even though I didn’t like being reminded of that particular meltdown, I was intrigued. “Have you heard of other necromancers absorbing the emotions of ghosts?” The idea troubled me ... and yet it also made sense. “I’m only asking because, when Melanie took Chief Terry and I thought there was a chance he might not be found in time, I felt ... rage. It wasn’t just normal anger and fear. It was rage and I thought for a few minutes that I was feeling what the ghosts of her parents were feeling. I pushed it out of my mind, because I assumed I was being ridiculous.”

  Aunt Tillie licked her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “I think it’s definitely possible. In fact, there are stories about necromancers being taken over by ghosts. They’re old stories, mind you. Necromancers are rare. Not everyone who can see and talk to ghosts becomes a necromancer. I’m living proof of that.”

  “Right.” I rubbed my ch
eek and flicked my eyes to the door, almost coming out of my skin when I saw Landon standing there with Peg. He’d obviously been listening for a bit because he looked engrossed in the conversation. “Hey.” I swiped at my cheeks and was happy to find my tears had dried. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to hear some of your conversation,” he replied honestly, handing Aunt Tillie Peg’s leash before moving closer to me. “Are you okay?” He looked sincerely worried as he knelt in front of me and met my gaze.

  “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He moved his thumbs over my cheeks. “You’ve been crying.”

  “I ... .” I had no idea what to say.

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” He leaned in and gave me a hug. “I’m just thinking about what Aunt Tillie said.”

  He wasn’t the only one. “Do you think it’s possible?”

  “I don’t know.” His smile was firmly in place when he pulled back. “I’m not an expert on ghosts. I think where you’re concerned, anything is possible. Maybe we can do some research.”

  “Like with books?” The idea held little appeal. Still ... . “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  “Definitely.” He kept his hand busy on my back as he turned to Aunt Tillie. “What do you think?”

  “Are you seriously asking me?” Aunt Tillie didn’t bother hiding her surprise. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked me about anything of consequence.”

  “I want Bay to be okay.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Aunt Tillie sounded sure of herself, which was a relief. “She’s strong. She’ll get control of this like she does everything else. We simply need to watch her. If she is picking up on ghostly emotions, that could affect her in a multitude of different ways.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like ... if she came into contact with a poltergeist at the wrong time, she could turn into the Hulk or something. Maybe not the actual Hulk, but the witchy equivalent. I don’t know a lot about necromancy. I’ve invited the leading authority to the solstice celebration. She’s a necromancer, too.”