Something to Witch About (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 5)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I haven’t eaten today,” I admitted.

  “I know you didn’t eat breakfast, but why didn’t you eat lunch?”

  “I had a lot on my mind.”

  Landon patted my knee under the table. “Well, eat up kid. You have PMS, which means I’m going to have get my money’s worth tonight.”

  I looked up in time to see a piece of meat fall out of Connie’s mouth. I don’t think Landon meant to say that last little bit so loud.

  “Landon!”

  Landon blushed. “Sorry.”

  “I know how that goes, son,” Earl said, smiling widely.

  Chief Terry glowered at Landon. “Don’t ever say anything like that again.”

  “Trust me. I wish I hadn’t said it this time.”

  “I’m not joking,” Chief Terry said. “I’ll beat you to within an inch of your life.”

  “I have PMS, too,” Clove announced. “I think that’s why I’m so hungry.”

  Thistle kicked her under the table. “Don’t tell people that.”

  “You have it, too,” Clove said. “We’re all synced up together. It’s a girl thing. It’s nothing to hide.”

  Aunt Tillie shook her head. “In my day we didn’t talk about things like that.”

  “I agree,” Blanche said.

  “I think we should all change the subject,” Mom suggested. “What time are you guys heading out tomorrow?”

  “We thought we would all have breakfast together, if that’s okay with everyone,” Connie replied.

  “That sounds good,” Mom replied. “Any special requests for breakfast?”

  Clove’s hand shot up in the air. “Can you make chocolate waffles?”

  “PMS, party of three, we’re making reservations for breakfast,” Thistle cackled.

  “Stop it,” I ordered. Although, to be fair, chocolate waffles sounded divine. “I’m voting for the waffles, too, though.”

  Landon’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

  Mom fixed him with a hard stare. “Do you want to request anything, Landon?”

  “The waffles are good,” he said.

  “You’ve had them?” Connie asked.

  “I eat breakfast up here a lot,” Landon said, refusing to break his gaze from hers. “I think I’ve had just about everything up here.”

  “Well, at least I know you’re being well fed.”

  “Amongst other things,” Daryl teased.

  “Eat your dinner, Daryl,” his mother ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, these chocolate waffles must be something special,” Earl said. “I’m in.”

  “You better enjoy all those carbs,” Connie said. “You’re going to be back to oatmeal and fruit when we get home.”

  “I’ll be here,” Kenneth announced. “I wouldn’t miss waffles.”

  “Who invited you?” Aunt Tillie challenged. “I know I didn’t.”

  “Awe, buttercup, you can’t still be angry.”

  Buttercup? Thistle and I exchanged amused smirks.

  “I see what you two are doing,” Aunt Tillie warned before turning on Kenneth. “Don’t call me buttercup.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  “I have a few suggestions,” Thistle offered. Clearly she wasn’t worried about staying on her best behavior – or Aunt Tillie’s good side – any longer.

  “Listen, sass mouth, you’re pushing your luck.”

  “She’s been like this for days,” I said.

  “It’s because Marcus has been so busy with the fair – and tilling your pot field,” Clove said. “She’s barely seen him. I think she’s going through withdrawal.”

  Everyone at the table froze. Clove realized what she’d said, but it was too late. “Did I say pot? I meant pea. She’s planting a pea field.”

  “You’re on my list,” Aunt Tillie announced.

  Daryl looked interested. “You have a pot field?” He glanced at Landon. “Can’t she be arrested for that?”

  “I have no idea where this purported pot field is located,” Landon replied. “It’s not a federal issue.”

  “I have glaucoma,” Aunt Tillie said. “I need it.”

  “You don’t have glaucoma,” I scoffed. “You just like it.”

  “Be careful, missy,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “You’ve had a rough week. That’s not going to keep you off my list.”

  “Yeah, Bay,” Thistle teased. “Aunt Tillie is back and she’s badder then ever.”

  “You’ve been on my list all week,” Aunt Tillie said, causing the color to drain from Thistle’s face. “I’ve only held back because we have guests.”

  “This is an inn,” Daryl said. “Don’t you always have guests?”

  “Not important guests,” I said.

  Earl looked pleased. “We’re important?”

  “Eat your dinner,” Connie ordered.

  A dish crashed to the floor at the end of the table, causing everyone to jump.

  “Did you drop something, Blanche?” Mom asked.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  I looked under the table and saw one of the smaller plates in pieces by Blanche’s chair. “You probably just knocked it over accidentally.”

  “I didn’t touch it,” Blanche protested. “It just flew off the table.”

  I straightened, sharing a worried look with Landon. “Why don’t we go into the parlor for dessert?”

  “We’re not even done with dinner yet,” Mom said, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. “It will just take me a second to clean up the mess. It was just an accident.”

  “I did not drop that plate!”

  I scanned the room, looking for a hint of white mist. I didn’t see any sign of Floyd. A quick look at Aunt Tillie told me she was doing the same. “Anything?”

  “If he’s here, he’s hiding.”

  “Who’s hiding?” Connie asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “We were just … um … it’s nothing.”

  Landon got to his feet. “I like the dessert-in-the-parlor idea. Let’s do that.”

  Thistle’s glass suddenly flew through the air, smashing against the wall and shattering into a thousand pieces.

  “What was that?” Earl asked.

  “It’s that thing, isn’t it?” Denny wrung his hands, his face drained of all color.

  “It’s just dinner theater,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

  Something grabbed my hair, wrenching my head to the side. “Ow. Sonofabitch. Ow.”

  Landon reached for me. “What is it?” An invisible form swatted his hand away. “Okay, I felt that.”

  Chief Terry stood, reaching for his gun. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Floyd,” I said. “He’s here – and he’s pissed.”

  “From what I can tell, he’s always pissed,” Thistle said.

  “Isn’t Floyd the dead guy?” Earl asked, clearly confused.

  I shifted my eyes in his direction, pulling up short when I saw that Connie was the only one still sitting calmly at the table. What’s that about?

  Aunt Tillie slammed her hands on the table. “That did it! I’m coming for you, Floyd!” She disappeared through the swinging kitchen door. I had no idea where she was going – or what she was doing – but the sound of more breaking glass drew my attention back to the table.

  Dishes flew through the air, smashing against the wall at an alarming rate.

  I heard Aunt Tillie again, her voice from the back of the house.

  “I’m coming for you, Floyd!”

  Thirty-Seven

  “What is going on?” Earl asked.

  “It’s a ghost,” Connie replied, evenly. “Or a poltergeist. Given the anger in this room, I’m leaning toward poltergeist.”

  I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut. “What?”

  “Yeah, what?” Landon faced his mother. “How do you know about that?”

  Connie rolled her eyes. “I’ve known about ghosts and poltergeists for years,” she said.
“I’ve known about witches for even longer.”

  I stumbled backward, Landon’s arm shooting out to keep me steady. “You know about witches?”

  “Witches aren’t real,” Clove said, ducking as another plate flew over her head. “We have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re not witches.”

  “If you’re not witches, then you have a lot of explaining to do,” Connie replied. “Because being witches is the only thing that explains everything going on at this inn the past week.”

  “You know about witches?” Landon’s blue eyes were wide with wonder.

  “I know about a lot of things, honey,” Connie replied. “Witches are only one of them.”

  “We’re not witches,” Clove repeated. “Witches aren’t real. This is just a mass hallucination.” Clove glanced around the room for help. We were all too busy dodging dishes to offer any. “I know what happened. Aunt Tillie probably slipped some pot in our food.”

  Landon scowled. “Mass drugging is actually worse than being witches, Clove.”

  “Let it go,” Thistle agreed. “We can exactly hide it.”

  Clove wrung her hands. “I think everyone is just high.”

  “Clove, get a grip,” Mom ordered. “Now isn’t the time for you to freak out.”

  “Well, when should I freak out?”

  “I’m coming for you, Floyd!” Aunt Tillie screeched from the back of the house.

  I shot Landon a look. “I have to see what she’s doing.”

  “Go.”

  I pushed through the kitchen door, Thistle close behind me. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going to miss this.”

  “Where’s Clove?”

  “She’s still spinning her pot story,” Thistle replied. “She’ll catch up.”

  We found Aunt Tillie gearing up for war in the living room of the family living quarters. She tossed hard hats in our direction. “Suit up.”

  “Why do we need these?”

  “So we look cool,” Aunt Tillie said. “After the week you’ve had, the last thing you need is another head injury. Am I right?”

  She had a point. I placed the hat on my head. “So, what do we do?”

  “We kill him.”

  “He’s already dead.”

  “Do you think now is the time to play semantics?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Grab those bags,” Aunt Tillie instructed, pointing.

  “Are we going to do it here?” Thistle asked, collecting the bags.

  “It’s too messy,” Aunt Tillie replied. “We have to go back to the clearing.”

  Landon strode into the room, everyone from the dining room following in a line behind him. “What are you going to do?”

  “What I should’ve done days ago,” Aunt Tillie said, “give Floyd his due.”

  “Where?”

  “The clearing.”

  Landon glanced around. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to tell him to stay here. I didn’t, though. His face told me that wasn’t an option.

  “How do we get him to follow?” Chief Terry asked, looking over his shoulder at the sound of another dish breaking.

  “He’ll follow Bay,” Aunt Tillie said. “He’s been fixated on her from the beginning.”

  “I don’t like this,” Landon said. “She’s not bait.”

  “She’s all we have,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Why is he fixated on her? You’re the one he blames,” Landon countered.

  “Bay released him,” Aunt Tillie said. “He’s attached himself to her.”

  “I didn’t release him,” I argued. “That was the construction crew.”

  “You’re the first one he saw, though,” Aunt Tillie said. “He rushed through you. He must’ve realized you could see his thoughts when he melded with you. That’s why he’s stuck close.”

  “He’s not always around, though,” I pointed out. “He only shows up occasionally.”

  “That’s because he hasn’t figured out how to harness his power yet,” Aunt Tillie replied. “When he does that, we’re in for a world of hurt.”

  “It gets worse?” Landon asked.

  Aunt Tillie ignored him and focused on me. “You have to give us time to get out there and set up. You have to distract him. Keep him here.”

  “For how long?”

  “Give us ten minutes.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Set up a circle.”

  “We don’t have enough people,” I said. “We need twelve women. Twelve witches.”

  “We’re going to have to make do.”

  “Even when I get out there, that’s only eight,” I reminded her.

  “I can count,” Aunt Tillie snapped.

  Connie stepped forward. “I can help.”

  Landon was flabbergasted. “You’re going to get in a circle with them and chant away a poltergeist?”

  “I’ve done it before. Well, not a poltergeist. I have banished a ghost, though.”

  Aunt Tillie nodded. “Good. We can use you.”

  Landon shot a dark look at his mother. “When this is over, we have to talk.”

  Connie patted her son’s arm. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Landon turned to Chief Terry. “You lead them out there and get them set up.”

  “What are you going to do?” Chief Terry asked.

  “I’m sticking with Bay.”

  “No,” I protested. “You’ll be in danger.”

  Landon laced his fingers through mine. “We’ll be in danger.”

  I reluctantly nodded. “If you die, I’m going to be really pissed.”

  Landon gave me a hard, fast kiss. “Right back at you.”

  “SO, HOW do you keep a poltergeist busy?”

  Everyone was gone, led away from the danger by an extremely agitated Chief Terry and a completely deranged Aunt Tillie. It was just Landon and me.

  “I have no idea,” I replied. “We need to try to keep him from touching us, though.”

  Landon ducked as a vase collided with the wall above his head. “He’s going to run out of things to break before long.”

  “We can fix most of this once he’s gone,” I replied.

  “Like Harry Potter?” Landon teased.

  “Kind of.”

  “You need to give me a book or something so I can catch up,” Landon said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m so lost.”

  “Honey, what I’ve got to teach you can’t learn from a book.” I stood up straight, pooling energy in my gut, and then pushing it out with my mind. “Dark.”

  The lights in the room winked out. Landon looked impressed, the moonlight shining through the window illuminating his face. “What else do you have?”

  I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the door. “Let’s at least get him outside.”

  Landon followed. Once we were on the back porch, he straightened his lanky frame. “Where is he?”

  “Floyd! Hey, Floyd! You woman-beating loser! I’m out here.”

  “So we’re taunting the poltergeist now?”

  I glanced to my left when I saw an empty planter shift. I couldn’t see Floyd, but he was obviously trying to lift it. He didn’t have the strength. Yet. If his anger built, though, it would only be a matter of minutes.

  “How long has it been?”

  Landon glanced at his watch. “Six minutes. How long will it take us to get to the clearing?”

  “About two minutes.”

  “So we have to stall for two more minutes?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any ideas?”

  I frowned. “Just one.”

  Landon sighed. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “Probably not.” I closed my eyes, calling for power again. “Reveal.” When I opened my eyes, I found Floyd floating in front of me, only a foot separating his anger and my fear. Crap.

  I held up my hand. “Floyd, I didn’t do anything to you.”


  “Really? You’re trying to talk rationally with the angry ghost?” Landon was nonplussed.

  I ignored him. “Aunt Tillie didn’t do anything to you either. You need to let it go and move on. There’s something out there for you, something better than this.” I had no idea whether I was telling him the truth. I just wanted to give him something to think about. “You need to let this go. You need to move on.”

  Floyd’s ghostly hands reached out for me, causing me to take a step back and smack into Landon’s chest, tipping the hard hat off of my head. He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “This isn’t working.”

  “Floyd,” I tried again. “Nothing can make this right.”

  Floyd screeched, causing me to raise my hands to cover my ears.

  “Can we run now?” Landon asked, his lips close to my ear.

  Floyd was moving toward me again. “Yep. Let’s go.”

  Landon gripped my hand and started pulling. I followed him into the darkness, letting instinct lead me to the clearing. I risked a glance over my shoulder during the trek. Floyd was still following. He was at a safe distance, but he wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Not now.

  Relief washed over me when we tumbled into the clearing and my gaze fell on Aunt Tillie.

  “We’re ready,” she said, motioning to the spot beside her.

  Landon reluctantly let go of my hand and joined all of the men at the edge of the clearing.

  I stepped into the circle, joining hands with Connie and Aunt Tillie, and then lifted my arms into the sky in unison with the other women in the circle. We were one now.

  “I call on the four powers of this land,” Aunt Tillie intoned, signifying there was no time to call to each directional power individually as we usually did. “We have might. We have right. We have power.”

  “Why do I feel like he’s the one with power?” Chief Terry asked, clearly nervous. Landon shushed him, never moving his eyes from me.

  Floyd advanced on me, paying no heed to the others joined in the circle. I was the one he wanted.

  “I call on the four powers of this land,” Aunt Tillie said. “Banish Floyd Gunderson to his fate. Make him see the terror he has wrought. All the fear that he caused, all the pain that he inflicted, let him relive it now. So mote it be.”

  “So mote it be,” I echoed, watching in wonderment as Connie repeated the words.