Once Upon a Witch: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Books 1-3

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I am the prince,” Landon said, smiling as he ran his finger down my cheek. “You scared me.” He gave me a soft kiss.

  “Stop that right now,” Reginald howled. “This is not how this is supposed to go. I’m the prince! I am. I get to pick my princess. I want her.”

  “You’ll live,” Landon said. “Or … well … you’ll dissolve into a crying mess as soon as we’re out of here. Either way, you’ll be fine.”

  Reginald was desperate, and as Landon linked his fingers with mine and began to lead me from the dance floor he reacted in a completely dignified way (yes, I’m being sarcastic). He grabbed my leg under the dress, wrapping his fingers around my ankle, really digging in as he tried to hold on to me.

  “Guards! Guards! My princess is trying to leave me!”

  “That’s pathetic, man,” Landon said, wagging a finger in Reginald’s face. “Show some manliness. You’ve got hundreds of women here who are begging for you to dance with them. Let the one who doesn’t want you go and … suck it up. This one is mine.”

  “Guards! Guards!”

  Landon exhaled heavily as I tried to wrench my leg from Reginald’s tightening grip. “That’s starting to hurt,” I complained.

  Landon snagged me around the waist, forcefully lifting me in his arms and dragging me away from Reginald. “Try to chill, man,” Landon said. “She was never your princess to begin with.”

  “I got her shoe,” Reginald crowed, cradling to his chest the glass slipper he’d pulled from my foot. “I got her shoe! I win!”

  “Yeah, you’re a real winner,” Landon said. “Come on, princess. I have a few people who are anxious to see you.”

  If you see a beanstalk in the middle of a field, ask yourself an important question: If you have magic beans, why are you in the middle of a field? Go and sell them. Then you can go shopping. What good is a beanstalk?

  – Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up

  Fourteen

  “He found you!” Clove clapped excitedly as Landon carried me back to the yellow brick road.

  “We were worried,” Thistle admitted, her face relaxing when our eyes met. “You look … heavy.”

  “You can probably put me down now,” I said, sighing. She was right. The dress had to be heavy on Landon’s muscled arms. Notice I didn’t say I was heavy.

  “Sure,” Landon said, lowering both of us to the ground next to the road and then tightening his arms around me as he settled us into a comfortable sitting configuration.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, resting my forehead against his chin.

  “Just … give me a minute,” Landon murmured.

  “He was really worried,” Clove said, her eyes wide. “He almost had a meltdown.”

  “Almost?” Thistle arched a challenging eyebrow. “If that was almost a meltdown, I’d hate to see the actual thing.”

  Landon ignored them. “I walked out of the cottage thinking everything was fine. I thought you were right behind me. When I turned around, though, the cottage and you were gone.”

  “Sorry about eating the food, by the way,” Thistle said. “I should have listened to you.”

  Now I was the one challenging someone with a facial expression.

  “Landon kind of let her have it when we couldn’t find you,” Clove explained. “He blamed getting caught in the story on Marcus and Thistle.”

  “Which meant it was their fault I got zapped into Cinderella’s life,” I said.

  “How was it?” Clove asked, excited. “That dress is beautiful!”

  “It’s big and it’s itchy,” I said. “I don’t understand why I’m still wearing it. We finished the story.”

  “Maybe you didn’t learn the lesson you were supposed to,” Thistle suggested. “I had to wear that pink thing for hours after my story was done.”

  “What lesson was I supposed to learn from this? By the way, my stepsisters were Lila and Rosemary.”

  “Gross,” Thistle said, wrinkling her nose. “Who was your stepmother?”

  “Edith.”

  “That’s weird,” Clove said.

  “It kind of makes sense,” Thistle said. “Aunt Tillie has always had a bug up her butt where Edith is concerned.”

  “Do you want to hear the craziest part?”

  “It gets crazier?”

  “Guess who my fairy godmother was.”

  Thistle pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “Mom?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your mom?”

  “No. It was Aunt Tillie.” Landon stirred next to me, lifting his head so he could meet my worried gaze. “Are you okay? You seem a little … worn down.”

  “I thought I lost you,” Landon said. “I’m fine now. Go back to the part about Aunt Tillie being your fairy godmother. Was it really her?”

  “No.”

  “Was she self-aware, like the wolf?” Thistle asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “She didn’t have a lot of information, and she kept telling me to shut up because she had six other girls to dress before she could watch Fairy Tale Jeopardy, but she didn’t seem especially aware.”

  Landon snorted. “Fairy Tale Jeopardy? That’s just … great.”

  “She did say one interesting thing,” I said. “I asked her whether we died in the real world if we died here. She kept saying this was the real world, but she added an interesting caveat. She said that it depended on what we believed.”

  “Does that mean if we don’t believe we’re going to die, we won’t die?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Landon brushed his lips against my forehead. “Well, I choose to believe we’re not going to die here. I won’t let it happen. We’re going to work our way through the rest of this – and it had better not take too long – and then I’m going to kill Aunt Tillie.”

  “I’ll hold her down,” Thistle grumbled.

  “Did you guys come across any other stories while I was locked in a closet?”

  Landon furrowed his forehead. “Why were you locked in a closet?”

  I told him the story, and when I was done the laugh escaping his mouth shook his whole body. “Well, that sounds fun!”

  “Then I’m telling it wrong,” I said.

  “We did have one story while you were gone,” Clove said. “It wasn’t a long one, though.”

  “What was it?”

  “Something about goats on a bridge with an ogre under it,” Thistle said.

  I couldn’t help but smile at the visual. “How did you get out of it?”

  “Thistle was really agitated so she kicked the ogre in his special place,” Clove said. “It was a short story.”

  “I was aiming for his knee,” Thistle said. “Who knew an ogre’s equipment worked differently?”

  I laughed. It felt good after the past few hours of worry. “I thought Landon was going to be the prince,” I said, climbing from his lap. “When I realized that wasn’t the case, I decided to get away from Reginald by any means necessary.”

  “I heard your plan,” Landon said, smiling as he stood and dusted off the seat of his jeans. “I especially liked the part where you told him you were unbearable for three days out of every month.”

  I smirked. “Sadly, that didn’t seem to turn him off.”

  “I wonder if he’s still cuddling your shoe.”

  “Speaking of shoes,” Clove said, glancing down. “How are you going to walk without shoes?”

  That was a really good question. “Maybe I should just sit here and wait for some horrible fairy tale creature to come and eat me.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Landon said. “You can have my shoes.”

  “Your shoes are too big,” I said. “Thank you for the offer, though. Let’s start walking. Maybe my feet won’t get sore because this isn’t real.”

  “I think that’s wishful thinking,” Clove said.

  “We’ll have to see,” I said. “We can’t stay, and I don’
t know how to get out of this dress.” I kicked the second glass slipper off. “I think Clove would have enjoyed this story a lot more than I did. I don’t know why I got it.”

  “Probably because you hate it,” Thistle said, falling into step behind me with Marcus at her side.

  “Probably.”

  “Just for curiosity’s sake, how were you going to get away from the prince once you found out it wasn’t Landon?” Clove asked.

  I chuckled. “I was going to kick him in his special place,” I said, slipping my hand in Landon’s. “Not that I’m not happy for the assist, but I would have been fine on my own. I’m pretty sure I didn’t need to be rescued.”

  The moment the words left my mouth my skin started to tingle. A white mist swirled around me, and when it dissipated the heavy monstrosity of a dress was gone and my jeans, T-shirt and tennis shoes were back in place.

  “There’s my girl,” Landon said, pushing my flyaway hair out of my face. “What did you say that ended the spell?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “I think it was the part about you not needing to be rescued,” Thistle said. “Aunt Tillie always said that was the problem with princesses. They never did anything on their own because they were always waiting for a man to come save them.”

  That made sense. “Well … whatever it was … I’m just glad to be back in my regular clothes.”

  “Me, too,” Landon said. “Although, to be fair, that dress made me want to pick you up and carry you. I can’t explain it.”

  “I think it was the hero complex colliding with the helpless princess syndrome,” I said.

  “I think it was because he missed you,” Thistle teased.

  “Leave him alone, Thistle,” I warned. “It’s been a long night.”

  “No, she’s right,” Landon said. “I missed my princess.” He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. “No more separations. I don’t like it.”

  I couldn’t help but agree. “Let’s keep moving. How many stories can possibly be left?”

  That was probably the wrong question to ask. I’m fairly sure I jinxed us.

  “HOW long do you think we’ve been here?” Clove asked, her voice drained.

  We’d left the palace behind us more than an hour before. Since night was everlasting, time ceased having meaning.

  “I have no idea,” Landon said, tightening his arm around my waist as we walked. I was so exhausted I’d taken to resting my head against his shoulder. If sleep while also being awake was possible, I’d totally be able to do it right about now.

  “Does anyone remember the other stories in the book?” I asked.

  “We haven’t done Wonderland yet,” Thistle replied. “Or Beauty and the Beast. Or whatever the one that features Aladdin is.”

  “That’s disheartening,” Landon said. “I was hoping we had one left. Two at the most.”

  “Something tells me we’re going to have to play out more than just the yellow brick road in Oz, too,” Thistle said.

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  My gaze fixed on something to the right of the road, my mind playing tricks on me as I tried to decide what it was. I was so enraptured with the vision I didn’t notice that everyone else ceased walking.

  “What the … ?”

  “Where did the brick road go?” Marcus asked, confused.

  “It just ends,” Clove said. “Does that mean we’re done with the story?”

  “I doubt we’re that lucky,” Sam said.

  “What do you think, Bay?”

  I heard them talking, but I was having trouble focusing given the majestic sight taking form in the field next to us. The overlarge moon was bouncing off each glorious green inch of it.

  “Bay?” Landon tightened his grip on my hip.

  “I think we’re done with the brick road,” I said, continuing to stare.

  “What makes you say that?”

  I nodded my chin toward the thousand-foot-tall beanstalk sprouting across the way. “That.”

  “Oh, no way,” Thistle said. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I guess we forgot that story, too.”

  Landon growled. It was an actual growl. If he was a wolf we’d have to put him down before he ate us. “I just … there are no words.”

  “Are we supposed to climb that?” Clove asked, mystified.

  “I’m not climbing that,” Thistle said, shifting her eyes to me. “Don’t even think for a second I’m climbing that! There’s nothing you can do to make me climb that. Get it out of your head right now. I’m not going to do it.”

  “I CAN’T believe I’m actually doing this,” Thistle complained, glancing down at the rapidly diminishing ground as she climbed from one leaf to another. “Tell me again why all of us are doing this instead of just two of us?”

  “Because if only two of us did this then you and Marcus would have been the ones who had to do it,” I replied, nonplussed.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I had to be Cinderella.”

  “I had to kick an ogre in the … knee,” Thistle shot back.

  “Knock it off,” Landon ordered. He was in the lead, and it had been his idea for all of us to climb together. “We all agreed that it was best for the group to go together. No more splitting up.”

  “Plus, what happens if the next story starts wherever we land up there? Then some of us would be separated at the bottom of the beanstalk and we might never see each other again,” I said.

  “I can deal with that reasoning,” Thistle said. “I still hate climbing.”

  “It’s not so bad,” I said. “The leaves are arranged like a spiral staircase.”

  “An elevator would clearly be better.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “How much farther?”

  “Yeah, are we there yet?” Thistle chimed in.

  Landon scowled, his joy at finding me unscathed evaporating with each step. “Can we stop the backseat climbing chatter?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “No,” Thistle said. “Are we there now?”

  “Don’t make me thump you, Thistle,” Landon ordered. “This is hell on all of us.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “When we get to the top of this beanstalk, I swear … .”

  Everyone was quiet for a few minutes. Even though I knew it was probably the wrong move, I broke the silence. “Do you want me to add the beanstalk comment to your book of sayings ideas?”

  Landon sighed. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  It took us almost an hour to climb to the top of the beanstalk, and by the time we stepped off the seemingly endless leaves our legs were numb and our feet heavy. We fell to the ground, a spongy expanse of lush grass, panting.

  “It’s a good thing we all came up here together,” Thistle said. “No one would climb back down that beanstalk and then back up again after making that trip. It would’ve been every couple for themselves.”

  “See, I was right,” Landon said, his hand patting the ground next to me until he found my hand.

  “You’re always right,” I said.

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I don’t have the energy to patronize you,” I said. “Do you think we can take a nap here?”

  “Sure.”

  I closed my eyes, weariness overtaking me. “I just need a short nap.”

  “Me, too,” Landon said.

  When I mustered the energy to look to my other side I saw Thistle, Clove, Marcus and Sam were already asleep. I’m not sure how I did it, but fear of being separated from Landon during slumber was more overwhelming than the suffocating exhaustion. I shifted over until I could rest my head on his shoulder. Landon wrapped his arm around my back.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “I afraid you’ll be gone when I wake up. I don’t think we’re naturally falling asleep. This is part of the next story.”

  “I won’t be gone,” Landon said. “I’m too tired to go anywhere. I’ll be right
here. Trust me.”

  “I trust you’ll try,” I said, my eyelids heavy. “The book has control of us. We all know that.”

  “The book has separated us enough,” Landon said. “We’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.” I was barely awake.

  “I love you, Bay.”

  “I love you, too.”

  We slipped into slumber … and nothing ever felt better.

  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. No, it’s true. Looks aren’t everything. If a man has a hairy back, though, that’s a deal-breaker. Find out what his stance is on waxing his shoulders before you give up the goods. If you can braid a man’s back hair, there’s a problem.

  – Aunt Tillie’s Wonderful World of Stories to Make Little Girls Shut Up

  Fifteen

  I woke up to the feeling of grass poking into my cheek.

  “Landon?”

  I could hear bodies stirring around me.

  “Landon?”

  Even though sleep was trying to drag me back down I opened my eyes and focused on the spot next to me. It was empty. Landon was gone.

  I bolted to a sitting position, scanning the area in case he’d woken up and was looking around to see what fresh new fairy hell awaited us. He was nowhere in sight. “Landon!”

  My voice echoed across the open expanse of the castle courtyard. Yes, it seems we’d found a castle. This one was even more majestic than the palace.

  “What’s going on?” Thistle asked, rubbing her eyes wearily. “Where’s Landon?”

  “He’s gone,” I said, pushing myself to my feet and brushing the grass and dirt from my clothes. “I knew this was going to happen.” I tried to fight the tears pooling in my eyes.

  Thistle wrapped me in a brief hug. “It’s just another story.”

  “Why are we the ones who have been separated three times now?”

  “Because Aunt Tillie was really angry at Landon when she cast the curse,” Thistle said. “Look at it this way, I’m still the one who had to kiss a frog. It doesn’t get much worse than that.”

  “Thanks, honey,” Marcus deadpanned, joining us. “It’s going to be okay, Bay. I’m guessing we have to go into the castle and we’re going to find Landon there.”