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

by Amanda M. Lee

  “We’re doing it here because I had to get away from your mothers,” Aunt Tillie replied, unruffled. “If I spend ten more seconds with those idiots I’ll kill all three of them.”

  “Oh, that’s rich talk from a woman who can’t cook,” I snarked. “If you kill them, who will cook for you?”

  “That’s what I have the three of you for.”

  “We can’t cook.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Landon offered, reclining on the sofa in the center of Thistle and Clove’s store. “I didn’t think that cauldron thing was real. I always thought it was a prop.”

  “Why would we have a cauldron that didn’t work?” Thistle challenged.

  “Why would you have a cauldron at all?” Landon fired back.

  Tempers were clearly sparking on all sides, so I stepped between Landon and Thistle before things could get out of hand. “Guys, I know everyone is tired, but this is not the time to melt down. We need to hold it together for another hour, and then this will all be over.”

  “Listen to Bay,” Aunt Tillie instructed. “She’s very wise.”

  I cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Since when?”

  “Since you’re currently my favorite Winchester,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Don’t let that go to your head, though. It’s not because I like you. It’s simply because I hate everyone else.”

  “Oh, but we love you so much,” Thistle drawled, sarcasm practically dripping from her tongue.

  “I love you, Aunt Tillie,” Clove offered. “I’m not just saying it either. Why aren’t I your favorite?”

  “Because you’re a kvetch and I sense tears coming on,” Aunt Tillie replied.

  “I am not a kvetch … and I’m not going to cry.” Despite her best efforts, Clove’s voice broke on the last word.

  “Oh, geez,” Aunt Tillie muttered. “Landon, make the kvetch stop crying.”

  “Yeah, I’m comfortable,” Landon said, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “I think I’ll stay here.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.” I patted his knee and met his steady gaze. His earlier story touched me – and I knew it was hard for him to relate it. I could only hope he was holding it together. “I have a suggestion for when this is done, if you’re interested.”

  “Pajama Monday?”

  I smirked. “Yes, but I thought we could go to your apartment in Traverse City and do it up right,” I replied. “You’re almost out of there, and even though I haven’t spent a lot of time with you I thought we could spend a little time alone this week. I can work from there. We don’t have anything big happening in Hemlock Cove, and I can conduct any interviews I need over the phone.”

  Landon tilted his head to the side, surprised. “You want to go to Traverse City with me? Won’t you be bored while I’m at work?”

  I risked a glance at my bickering family members and immediately started shaking my head. “I think I could benefit from some alone time.”

  Landon snickered as he grabbed me around the waist and tugged me to his lap. “That sounds nice. I’ll take it.”

  “Good.”

  “I think it sounds like a great idea,” Aunt Tillie offered. “You’re both on edge. It’s not healthy to be agitated as much as you’ve been over the past few days. You should go to one of those day spas and get a couple’s massage.”

  “I don’t generally agree with Aunt Tillie, but a day spa visit does sound fun,” I said. “I’ll even pay because you’ve been put through the wringer this weekend.”

  “We’ll split the cost. And it hasn’t been that bad,” Landon countered. “I like the idea of this couple’s massage, though. As long as I don’t get a dude, I mean. I can’t handle a dude massaging me.”

  “The dude will be massaging me.”

  “Yeah, in my head I’m going to picture a woman.”

  “Duly noted.”

  We lapsed into comfortable silence and watched Aunt Tillie work. She seemed determined – and to know what she was doing – so I felt doubly blessed. If she could reverse the spell everything would be set right. Sure, a few people might have some funky memories of the last few days, but there was nothing we could do about that.

  When I glanced back at Landon I found him staring out the window. He seemed interested in something he saw on the street. I followed his gaze, frowning when I saw Mrs. Little heading in our direction.

  “Speaking of trouble … this can’t be good.”

  “What is it?” Thistle asked, lifting her head. She scowled when Mrs. Little pushed open the door and walked in without invitation. “I knew I should’ve locked that thing.”

  “Quick, someone get the priest and rosary, and I’ll start the exorcism,” Aunt Tillie deadpanned, her gaze locking with Mrs. Little.

  “Oh, you’re so very funny, Tillie,” Mrs. Little said, glaring at her nemesis. “May I ask what you’re doing in here?”

  “We’re playing a game,” Clove replied. She was always the worst when it came to making up lies to cover our actions. “It’s called Ring Around the Cauldron.”

  “Uh-huh.” Mrs. Little wet her lips. “I saw you all come in here, and I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve been forcing people to reverse wishes at the well. That’s not what the well was intended for.”

  “The well also wasn’t intended to grant real wishes,” I pointed out.

  “No one is talking to you, Bay,” Mrs. Little sniffed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure no one wants to talk to you. I’m here to talk to Tillie.”

  “I want to talk to you, Bay,” Landon offered when I turned my incredulous eyes to him. “In fact, I wish you and I were the only two people in the world right now.”

  “Ignore them,” Aunt Tillie suggested when Mrs. Little’s eyebrows winged up. “They have overactive hormones. What do you want to talk to me about, Margaret?”

  “This … thing … you’re doing here,” Mrs. Little replied, staring at the cauldron. “You’re not planning to make some sort of … potion … and throwing it in the cauldron, are you?”

  She obviously expected us to deny it, but Aunt Tillie was well past that point.

  “That’s exactly what I plan to do,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Everything will be back to normal in an hour. I hear you’re inexplicably popular – which is just baffling – so you might want to enjoy it while you can.”

  “I happen to be a lovely person,” Mrs. Little gritted out. “I’m popular because of my attitude.”

  I snorted so hard I almost choked. Landon patted my back to soothe me.

  “You’re meaner than Aunt Tillie when her combat helmet is too tight,” Thistle sputtered. “How can you possibly say that with a straight face?”

  “Because it’s true,” Mrs. Little answered, serene. “I’m a genuinely popular person.”

  “Not for long,” Aunt Tillie said. “In an hour you’ll be back to your true self.”

  Mrs. Little narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push me. I won’t allow you near that wishing well. I have … contingencies … in place if you try.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “It means that things are how they’re supposed to be and I won’t stand for any changes,” Mrs. Little said, tugging on her suit coat to smooth it. “I’m in control of the situation. I donated the wishing well. I won’t allow you to mess with it.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?” Aunt Tillie was always up for a challenge. The fact that Mrs. Little was issuing it today was merely a bonus.

  “Don’t push me,” Mrs. Little warned. “You’ll lose.”

  “I don’t lose.”

  “You will today.”

  “Do you want to place a wager?”

  Mrs. Little chewed on her bottom lip as she stared. I expected her to issue some vague threat and flounce out the door. Instead she turned on her heel and bolted – as if some wildebeest chased her with the sole purpose of eating her for lunch – and disappeared down the street.

  �
�What the … ?” Landon leaned forward, baffled. “Is she running?”

  “I didn’t know she could,” Clove admitted.

  “I did.” Aunt Tillie was grim. “She’s not getting away with it this time, though. Get her!”

  Make a wish, Bay. Think really hard about what you want and then drop your penny in the well. It will come true … eventually. You might not realize it right away, but everything that happens today will lead to that wish coming true tomorrow. That includes everything that’s difficult … everything that’s easy … and everything that feels as if your heart is being ripped out of your chest. Some wishes come true right away. Others take time to percolate. Your wish will come true … as long as you don’t wish to be a princess or anything. Not only is that a lame wish, it’s also entirely impractical in this country. You don’t need to be the princess. You simply need to be the thing that princesses fear.

  – Aunt Tillie to nine-year-old Bay as they stood next to a wishing well

  Twenty

  “Get her?”

  Landon didn’t so much as move from the couch as he leveled his gaze on Aunt Tillie.

  “You heard me.” Aunt Tillie gestured toward the door. “Get her.”

  “Why?”

  Aunt Tillie made an exaggerated “well, duh” expression. “Because she’s going to do something.”

  “What is she going to do?” Landon asked, remaining patient. “She’s not a witch, right? She can’t cast a spell to stop your spell. Heck, she doesn’t even know what you’re concocting over there.”

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “She’s evil.”

  “So are you.” Landon turned his attention back to me. “How about we pack up as soon as we’re done here and I’ll take you out for a nice lunch in Traverse City before we start our pajama day at my place?”

  “That sounds really good. Just think, though, soon you won’t have a ‘my place.’ You’ll have ‘our place.’”

  Landon grinned. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in days. The fact that you’re coming with me for the week and I don’t have to worry about getting my Bay fix over the phone is a close second.”

  “You two make me want to puke,” Aunt Tillie hissed. “Why don’t you just jump each other in public? It would be quicker.”

  “Because that’s against the law,” Landon replied dryly. “We all know I’m a rule follower.”

  “Yes, that’s why you keep the fact that we’re witches and had a kid flying over the pot field for days to yourself,” Thistle said, sarcasm overflowing.

  “I can’t even hear you.” Landon said, resting his cheek against my shoulder. “I’m already in Traverse City.”

  “Oh, whatever.” Aunt Tillie turned back to the cauldron. “It needs to simmer for twenty minutes and then it needs to be bottled. Clove, that’s your job.”

  Clove leaned over the cauldron and wrinkled her nose. “Why is it my job? It smells.”

  “So did you when you were younger, and I still had to babysit you.”

  Thistle snorted. “This family should get a group rate on a shrink.”

  “I’ve heard worse ideas,” Landon said. “Can we hurry this along? I have the rest of my day planned and I want to get to the good stuff.”

  I WASN’T surprised to find Mrs. Little waiting for us by the wishing well. I was surprised to find her fan club holding hands and circling the well, as if to cut us off from our target. The scene was almost laughable. If I weren’t so cold and tired I would’ve broken out in hearty guffaws.

  “Oh, look, it’s the Joy Luck Club,” Thistle intoned.

  Yup. That did it. I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking so hard I had to rest my palms on my thighs to catch my breath.

  “Are you okay?” Landon asked, his eyes flashing. He looked as amused as I felt. “You’re not going to fall over or anything, are you?”

  I shook my head. “I just … this is ridiculous. Even for us, I mean. The entire thing is absolutely ridiculous.”

  “It will be over soon.”

  “You can’t touch my well,” Mrs. Little announced, puffing out her chest. “This is my well. I bought it. I paid for it. It’s mine. If you touch it, you’re trespassing.”

  “It’s on public property,” I reminded her, recovering enough to straighten. “You donated the materials for the well, but it was erected on public property. It’s meant as an attraction for the public and something for tourists to admire.”

  “Yeah, and we’re part of the public,” Clove added. “By the way, Aunt Tillie, I’m not a kvetch or a crier. I just want you to know that.”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t have made it throughout the day without that little tidbit,” Aunt Tillie muttered. “I just … this is ridiculous. Move away from the well, Margaret. We have a wish to make.”

  “No!” Mrs. Little spread out her arms, as if she was about to take a bullet to protect her new friends. She seemed desperate enough to sell that story. “This is my well. You can’t touch it.”

  “We can touch it,” Landon corrected, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his badge. “This is part of an open investigation. If you try to bar us from approaching I’ll arrest you for inserting yourself into a federal investigation. That can get you any number of years in the state penitentiary.”

  The words struck home with a few of the women, wild eyes locking with one another. The idea of backing up their new queen bee was one thing. The notion of going to jail – and maybe for an extended amount of time – was something else entirely.

  “You can’t bully us,” Mrs. Little gritted out. “I won’t let it happen. I refuse to let you do it.”

  “I’m not bullying you,” Landon remained calm on the surface even though I could sense his patience fraying. “I’m informing you that we need to gain access to the well. You have no right to stop us. If you try – if you put one hand on any of these women when they approach – I will arrest you.”

  “Oh, you can try.” I had to hand it to Mrs. Little. She remained haughty right until the end. The end came quickly when the women released their grip on one another and took long strides away from the well, leaving Mrs. Little the only remaining barrier.

  “I’m sorry, Margaret, but I can’t be a part of this,” Cassidy Marasco said, her voice shaking. “I can’t go to jail. My husband will pitch a fit … and I’m not sure he’ll bail me out.”

  “I know my husband won’t bail me out,” Val Winfield supplied. “He would use the time away from me as a vacation. He’s a real dickweed sometimes.”

  Landon’s mouth swished as he tried to hide his smile. “Ladies, if you would head back to your vehicles – or wherever it is that you wish to go that is separate from this location – I’ll be able to refrain from issuing a citation.”

  “He can’t ticket you,” Mrs. Little hissed as her “friends” retreated. “He’s an FBI agent. They don’t even carry around those little notepads to write tickets with.”

  “Hey, that sounds like a fun idea,” I suggested. “We should get you one of those pads so you can ticket me this week. Then I’ll have to pay my fines and … .”

  “Shut up, perverts,” Aunt Tillie barked, tightening her grip on the potion bottle in her hand as she advanced on the well. “Make plans for whatever filthy thing you’re going to do on your own time.”

  Landon ran his tongue over his teeth as he regarded Aunt Tillie a moment and then shifted his eyes to me. “I think I can find an old ticket book. I’m really liking the way your mind is working today.”

  I beamed. “It’s going to be a fun week.”

  “It is.” Landon stroked his hand down the back of my head. “I’m sorry about earlier … and yesterday … and last night. I don’t know why it bothered me so much, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  “It’s okay. I take things out on you all of the time.”

  “I know, but … you didn’t deserve it. I think you’ve been through enough the past three days.”

  “I
haven’t been through anything. I’ve been with you. That makes it a perfect weekend.”

  “Oh, that’s why you’re my favorite.” Landon slipped his arms around my waist and tugged me close. “I’m ready to get out of here. How about you?”

  “I was ready an hour ago.”

  “Oh, my … gawd!” Mrs. Little squealed the last word so loudly I had no choice but to jerk my head in her direction.

  “What’s your deal?”

  “You’re being filthy in public,” Mrs. Little hissed. “How is that not against the law?”

  “It is, but I’m an FBI agent. I can abuse the rules,” Landon said, his lips quirking. “Come on, Aunt Tillie. Toss that thing in there. I’m tired and I want to spend the day with my girl.”

  For a moment I thought Aunt Tillie would put up a fight. She looked to be in the mood to throw down, maybe even curse a little for good measure. If she made me smell like bacon for the week Landon would officially be in heaven. Instead she merely shook her head and uncapped the potion bottle.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Little squeaked, panic overtaking her. “Don’t you dare throw that in the well. I thought you would brag or something first, that I would have time to come up with a plan.”

  Aunt Tillie shrugged and tossed the potion into the well, not bothering to cringe or jolt when it exploded upon hitting the bottom. Thankfully the purple smoke rolling up was minimal … and kind of pretty.

  “I thought I would gloat a little bit, too,” Aunt Tillie admitted, casting me a sidelong look. “It turns out that there really is something more important than winning.”

  “Since when?” Thistle asked, dumbfounded.

  “Since now.” Aunt Tillie heaved out a sigh. “Go forth and be filthy. We’re done here.”

  Landon’s smile was impish. “Don’t mind if I do.”