Make A Witch

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mrs. Little sputtered, surprised. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

  “Because the wishing well is creating quite the uproar in town,” I answered, unruffled. “It seems wishes are coming true … and then turning into something ugly.”

  Mrs. Little narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the wishes are turning on the people casting them,” I replied. “Nelson Lyons wished for … well … female adoration. That’s how I got this black eye. A few other people wished for things like ponies and bigger homes without thinking how that would end up. I’m guessing you wished for popularity, or to have friends who actually liked you.”

  “I’ll have you know, Bay, that I’m a very popular person,” Mrs. Little sniffed. “I didn’t wish for anything.”

  “I was at the dedication ceremony,” I reminded her. “I saw you toss a coin in the well. You had to wish for something.”

  “I was busy that day.” The tilt of Mrs. Little’s chin told me that she was lying. She was way too obvious. “I tossed the coin in for looks. I didn’t make a wish.”

  “I know that you did.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Landon rested his hand on my shoulder to still me. “Mrs. Little, lying to us won’t change the facts. The wish is going to turn on you. It could go so far that your new fans turn into stalkers and try to kill you.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing when I realized what he was doing. Mrs. Little was paranoid on a good day. Once Landon told her that people might be coming after her she was bound to have a meltdown.

  “If you want to stay safe, you need to go back to the well and reverse your wish,” Landon added. “We’ve been visiting everyone, and that seems to solve the problem.”

  “So, let me get this straight,” Mrs. Little growled, her agitation obvious. “You’re saying that people are making real wishes in the well? Like magic?”

  She was good. She was trying to back us into a corner. “We’re saying that you need to reverse your wish or face the consequences,” I clarified. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, dinner is waiting at the inn. Good luck.”

  “SOMETHING smells good.”

  Landon has a nose like a bloodhound when it comes to food, and he was all smiles when we hit the dining room. The table was free of guests because they had checked out earlier in the day. I was nervous when I realized the Leerys were gone.

  “Did someone handle Mr. and Mrs. Leery and their … um … reconnection?”

  “I did,” Thistle replied, glaring at me. “I knew you forgot thanks to your black eye, so I was trying to do you a favor. That was before I got my own black eye, of course.”

  We did make quite the pair, and I had to stifle my laughter as I sat next to Landon. He positioned himself between Aunt Tillie and me, and if my great-aunt’s expression was any indication, she was in quite a mood.

  “Well, thanks for handling them,” I offered. “I forgot all about them with everything that’s been going on. Were they upset about rolling back the wish?”

  “Actually, Mrs. Leery said she made enough memories for another lifetime and would be happy to give her hoo-ha a rest,” Thistle answered. “That was her word, not mine, by the way. I would never use that word.”

  “Hoo-ha,” Landon and Marcus said in unison, drawing out the syllables and bursting into gales of childish laughter.

  Thistle rolled her eyes and reached for a bottle of wine. “How did things go with Mrs. Little?”

  “She denied making a wish,” I replied. “Landon warned her that her fans would likely turn on her and try to kill her if she didn’t reverse it, and then we left her with her paranoia.”

  “That was probably smart,” Chief Terry said, appearing in the doorway. “Do you have room for one more? I’m too tired to get my own dinner tonight.”

  “We always have room for you,” Mom said, beaming when she saw him. “Take a seat next to me.”

  “That’s my chair,” Marnie complained.

  “You can take a seat down there.” Mom jerked her head toward the empty end of the table. “Terry wants to sit by me.”

  My mother and aunts are in a weird competition for Chief Terry’s affection. I have no idea what they’ll do if one of them ever nabs him, but Chief Terry seems fine with them doting on him.

  “I think I’ll sit next to Bay so we can cut down on any problems,” Chief Terry supplied. “I’m too tired to walk around the table anyway. It’s been one freaky long day.”

  “You poor thing.” Twila made a clucking sound as she maneuvered around the table, not stopping until she stood behind Chief Terry so she could dig her fingers into his neck and give him a massage. “Here. I’ll take care of you.”

  Mom and Marnie exchanged dark looks as they glared at Twila while I shifted on my chair and cast him a sidelong look. His cheeks colored when he felt multiple sets of eyes on him, but he didn’t dissuade Twila from her massage.

  “So, what else is new?” Chief Terry asked, changing the subject. “Have we managed to track down everyone who made wishes?”

  “Doubtful,” Landon replied, pouring me a glass of wine. “We could barely keep up with what we heard about today. You just know there are people out there who wished for some really wild things. We’ll have to look for them tomorrow.”

  Chief Terry arched an eyebrow, surprised. “Tomorrow? Don’t you have work?”

  “I called in.”

  “He told his boss I got beat up by a bunch of teenagers and he had to take care of me,” I supplied. “I’m sure they’re laughing themselves silly over there.”

  “I told you that he probably thought that was an excuse so we could spend the day in bed,” Landon argued. “Chill out.”

  “You have a dirty mind,” Mom complained, cuffing the back of Landon’s head after delivering the platter of turkey to the middle of the table. “I thought some comfort food was in order for everyone today. I thought Sam and Clove would be here, too, but we have more than enough if they show up late. Dig in.”

  “I think they’re at the Dandridge,” Thistle supplied. “Sam was a little embarrassed that we all found out about his wishing for respect. I’m sure Clove is massaging his … ego … even as we speak.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a good massage,” Twila said, oblivious.

  “Speaking of that, why don’t you let me take over?” Marnie suggested.

  I shifted a hard look in Chief Terry’s direction. This was too weird to be normal. “Did you make a wish?” I hissed, horrified.

  Chief Terry balked. “No! Why would you think that?”

  “Because they’re acting weirder than normal.”

  “Did you ever think that’s how they roll?” Chief Terry was affronted. “I’m a popular guy. Sometimes people just like me.”

  “I don’t think they’re acting any odder than normal,” Landon volunteered. “I think they thrive on the competition.”

  He had a point, still … . “If you could make a wish, what would it be?”

  Chief Terry appeared surprised by the question. “I don’t know. I haven’t given it a lot of thought.”

  “There must be something,” I pressed. “I would want boots and Landon would want a new motorcycle.”

  “I don’t need any physical goods,” Chief Terry said.

  “What do you need?”

  Chief Terry shifted in his chair, licking his lips. “Fine. If you must know, I would wish to be your father and go back in time and raise you from the beginning.”

  His answer stunned me … and filled me with warmth at the same time. “Really?”

  “Yes. But I wouldn’t actually make that wish because you already have a father. I’m happy with the way things are, though, in the grand scheme of things.”

  Tears pricked the back of my eyes as Landon rubbed my neck. “Oh. Um … .”

  “Don’t cry, sweetie,” Landon comforted. “He said a nice thing. But you’ll ma
ke him regret it if you’re not careful.”

  “I know. I … .” I found myself struggling to find the right words. Chief Terry had the best heart of anyone I knew. He took a special interest in me when I was younger, and always went out of his way to make sure that Thistle, Clove and I had everything we needed.

  “It’s okay.” Chief Terry patted my hand. “If you cry I’ll cry, and I’ll never forgive you for that.”

  I stifled a sob. “Okay.”

  “Oh, geez. We really are the schmaltz family,” Thistle complained. “Aunt Tillie, you’d better find a way to reverse that spell or we’re all going to die in a schmaltz eruption.”

  “I’m working on it, mouth. Mind your own business.” Aunt Tillie huffed out a sigh as she reached for her wine. “It’s not as easy as you’d like.”

  Something occurred to me as I reached for the platter of turkey. “Speaking of fathers … .”

  I left the sentence hanging and Thistle made a face when she realized what I was insinuating. “Oh, crap. What if they wished for something funky?”

  “I guess we’ll find out after dinner,” Landon said, resigned. “Everyone eat up. We’re probably going to need the carbs.”

  Oh, yeah? Do you know what I wish? I wish I wasn’t a part of this family! You’re all embarrassing, and I would rather live in a tree with the Keebler elves than hang around you people. At least they have cookies, and no one fills them with guilt and disappointment when they bake them.

  – Clove Winchester, age 11, when her mother gave her a list of chores she wanted completed for the weekend

  Sixteen

  “I am not looking forward to explaining this.”

  I rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans as Landon navigated the dark road that led to the Dragonfly, the competing inn my father and uncles own on the other side of Hemlock Cove.

  “They’re probably going to think we’re crazy and to blame,” I added, my stomach twisting.

  “Crazy is a state of mind, and technically we are to blame,” Thistle offered from the back seat. She wasn’t happy when I insisted she join us, but ultimately she didn’t put up much of a fuss. “Aunt Tillie did this, and the entire town is suffering.”

  “I can’t figure out what she was thinking,” I muttered. “She’s the one who always told us not to cast spells when we were drunk … or high … or sexually aroused.”

  “Oh, geez.” Landon made a face. “How old were you when she imparted that last little nugget of wisdom?”

  “That was last week.”

  Despite himself and the serious situation, Landon chuckled. “Oh, well, I guess that’s okay then.”

  “She’s been in a mood for the past week,” Thistle said. “I think something happened with Mrs. Little and it pushed her over the edge. I’m not sure why she decided to go about her vengeance this way, but she’s going to have to think of a way to reverse the spell … and soon.”

  “This can’t go on another day,” Landon agreed. “Every time we think we’ve caught up we realize we’re really still behind. It’s frustrating.”

  “And now your boss thinks that you’re a sex fiend … or that possibly I’m the sort of woman who gets beaten by teenagers,” I grumbled.

  “Who exactly is the type of woman who gets beaten by teenagers?” Marcus asked, his hand resting on Thistle’s knee in the back seat. He appeared to be trying to comfort her regarding her eye, but she wasn’t making things easy. “I’m confused about why that’s important.”

  “Ask Bay,” Thistle muttered.

  “I’m a little curious about that, too,” Landon admitted. “Why is it such a big deal that teenagers beat you up?”

  “Would you be happy if a gaggle of teen boys beat you up?” I challenged.

  “I … well … no,” Landon grudgingly admitted. “That’s different, though. I’m an FBI agent. You’re a mild-mannered reporter with a studly yet sensitive boyfriend. You weren’t to blame for what happened, so I’m not sure why you’re so upset about it.”

  “Of course you don’t understand. You’re not a woman.”

  “I’m a woman and I don’t understand,” Thistle admitted, tilting her head to the side. “Why is it such a big deal? Lila punched me. Things could be worse.”

  “I would’ve rather gotten punched by Lila.” I rubbed my cheek as weariness momentarily overtook me. “This makes it look as if I was actually fighting with teenagers over a boy and I just … it’s so annoying.”

  Landon snorted. “You’re really fired up about this. I guess I know what to tease you with next time I want to engage in a wrestling match, huh?”

  “I don’t see you laughing every time someone accuses you of being the one who did this.” I gestured toward my eye. “It’s the same thing.”

  “It is not the same thing,” Landon barked. “I would never hurt you. I hate that people think I would.”

  “No one who has ever met you thinks you did this.”

  “Chief Terry did.” Landon stubbornly kept his gaze focused out the front windshield.

  “Chief Terry didn’t think that,” Thistle corrected, taking me by surprise. “He saw Bay with a black eye and wanted to make someone pay. He never believed it was you. I think deep down you know that. You’re acting weird about it, though, which makes me think there’s some sort of story we’re missing.”

  I didn’t want to agree with Thistle on general principle – I could be stubborn, too, after all – but I was fairly certain she was on to something. “If you want to talk … .”

  “I’m fine,” Landon snapped, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “As for no one believing I would do that to you, what do you think your father is going to say when he gets a gander at that eye?”

  My relationship with my father was difficult on the best day. What was about to happen at the Dragonfly couldn’t possibly be mistaken for the best of anything. “He won’t,” I said finally. “He knows you wouldn’t.”

  “He hates me, Bay, and he thinks I keep you from him,” Landon countered. “We’ve come to an uneasy truce because we both want what’s best for you, but we’re never going to be best friends.”

  I readjusted my attitude given the fact that Landon appeared to be legitimately struggling. “I won’t let him.”

  “You don’t have the power to stop that.” Landon’s tone was grim. “When was the last time you even saw your father?”

  The question was like a punch to the other eye, and I shifted on my seat. “Oh, um, I … huh.” That shouldn’t have been a hard question. In truth, I had a bit of resentment built up where my father was concerned. He and my uncles left when we were little, seeing us only sporadically throughout the years. They returned about a year ago and wanted to improve our relationships, but it wasn’t easy to do that given everyone’s feelings of abandonment.

  I never thought of myself as the type of person who would run from emotional turmoil … until my father returned to town and I did everything in my power to avoid him so I wouldn’t be dragged into a heavy conversation. That’s probably why it took me two days to even consider his wellbeing in the whole wish fiasco.

  “And there it is,” Landon intoned, his forehead wrinkling as he turned into the Dragonfly’s parking lot. “Bay, I don’t blame you for any of this. I don’t want you taking that on and ticking me off. Things are a mess right now. We’re doing our best, but it’s going to be ugly in here. Everyone needs to remain calm and things will be okay.”

  “Are you trying to convince us of that or yourself?” Thistle asked dryly.

  “You give me freaking heartburn,” Landon complained, shaking his head. “Let’s do this.”

  “WHAT happened to your eye?”

  We were barely through the front door before Dad asked the question.

  “Oh, well, I can tell you what didn’t happen to it.” I shot a worried look in Landon’s direction and found him shaking his head.

  “You have a black eye, too.” Uncle Teddy, Thistle’s
father, tilted his head to the side as he studied her face. “Did you guys get into a fight with each other?”

  Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue and shook his head. “Haven’t you girls outgrown that yet? Come on. It’s no longer cute because you’re adults now.”

  “It’s totally hot because they’re adults, though,” Marcus offered, shrinking back when Uncle Teddy scalded him with a murderous glare. “Or … not.”

  I pursed my lips as I regarded Landon. “At least he didn’t think you did it.”

  Dad’s eyebrows winged up as he glanced between faces. “Why would I think Landon did it? He seems to be something of a hothead, but he’s never shown aggression toward you.”

  “See.” I had no idea why I felt the need to push Landon, but he was showing signs of retreating into himself, and I didn’t like it. “Not everyone thinks you did it.”

  Landon forced a smile for my benefit. “Yes, well, I stand corrected.”

  “Am I missing something?” My father was well aware of our witchy ways … and occasional freakouts … and unending hijinks … but he looked concerned as he glanced between faces. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, something is kind of going on,” I hedged. “I … um … is that chocolate cake?” My mind blurred at the edges a bit as I lifted my nose. Something smelled absolutely heavenly in the next room.

  “Yes, we were just sitting down to dinner,” Dad hedged, uncertain. “Why don’t you have dessert with us and we’ll talk about this?”

  “That sounds great.” I grabbed Landon’s hand and tugged him toward the dining room, increasing my pace as the chocolate cake called to me. I felt somehow lighter knowing we were going to eat cake. I couldn’t explain it. “What else do you guys have to eat?”

  I pulled up short when I hit the dining room and the overflowing table popped into view. Much like The Overlook, all of the Dragonfly’s guests had checked out, so only family remained. The part of the family sitting at the far end of the table was dumbfounding.