Murder Most Witchy (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  She had a point, and still … . “Landon doesn’t even know I’m being pathetic because he can’t bother to call.”

  Clove’s dark eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Still?”

  “He can’t. He’s undercover. He can’t risk anyone overhearing him. Plus he has to buy a burner phone he can only use once before discarding it. He can’t risk any of the people he’s working with finding the phone and tracking the number.” I was fairly listless while staring at my ragged fingernails. “I need a manicure … and pedicure. Heck, I’m thinking maybe an entire spa day would be the way to go.”

  “I could get behind that if I thought you weren’t talking simply to hear yourself talk,” Thistle snapped.

  I ignored her and focused on Clove. She was easier to deal with when I was feeling down – mostly because she often went out of her way to cheer me up – and I was in desperate need of someone to dote on me. Even my own mother was sick of my crap, which should’ve told me how far I’d sunk. It wasn’t that I was unaware of my mopey attitude and general wretchedness. I simply couldn’t escape from my funk.

  “Tell me about your wedding plans, Clove,” I prodded. “Have you picked out a dress yet?” Clove and her boyfriend Sam Cornell became engaged several weeks ago and she hadn’t stopped talking about it since the blessed day. The only thing getting more attention in the Winchester household was my depression.

  “We haven’t made plans yet,” Clove replied, narrowing one eye and pursing her lips. “We’re thinking of early summer. We want to have an outdoor ceremony.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “Yeah, we think so.”

  I didn’t miss the look Clove and Thistle exchanged, but I refused to comment on it. “Have you been looking at dresses?”

  “I thought that was something we could do together,” Clove replied, lowering her voice. “Once all of this stuff is settled between you and Landon, that is.”

  “All of this stuff is settled between Landon and me,” I countered. “It’s done. We’re … done.” Even saying the words was painful, and even as the statement escaped my lips my heart revolted.

  Thistle took me by surprise with a derisive snort. “You’re not done. Stop being a kvetch. I can’t stand it. I’m used to it with this one, but you’re supposed to be the cousin I can tolerate.” Thistle jerked her thumb toward Clove for emphasis. “I’m used to this with her, but you’re the strong one.”

  I didn’t feel very strong. In fact, the only thing I could feel was sorry for myself. The realization was beyond frustrating. “He hasn’t called.” Surprisingly, my voice didn’t break. I was all cried out. I held onto the tears until I was alone each night, and then cried until I fell asleep. “I don’t think he’s going to call again.”

  “Oh, you’re so freaking dramatic,” Thistle muttered, shaking her head. “He’ll call. He’s an FBI agent, for crying out loud. He probably can’t call because it’s dangerous. Do you want him to die just so you can talk to him on the phone?”

  That was an interesting question. “Die? No. Right now I would be okay with him feeling some pain, though.” I felt better admitting it, a bit more Winchester-like. How sad is that? “If he felt it in his naughty bits I’d be fine with that … perhaps like a burning sensation he can’t escape no matter how much cranberry juice he drinks.”

  Thistle chuckled, genuinely amused. “See, that sounds good. You’re already feeling better.”

  I was. The simple act of admitting I was angry rather than wallowing in sadness was enough to elevate my spirits. “It feels unfair to blame him and yet … I blame him.”

  “I blame him, too.” Thistle was somber. “I don’t care what’s been going on. He should’ve been able to find five minutes to get a message to you.”

  “I’m really angry with him,” Clove added, moving to sit next to me. “I want to kick him in the nuts. That’s how angry I am.”

  She said it in such an innocent manner that I couldn’t refrain from giggling. “We should form a line,” I suggested. “I let Aunt Tillie put together the ingredients to make him and his new girlfriend smell like rotting sauerkraut that night when we got back from the corn maze. I stopped her before she could cast the spell, though. I realized it was juvenile.”

  Being an authentic witch isn’t easy. Karma is a real thing, and cursing Landon to smell bad simply because I was angry with him didn’t seem fair. That didn’t stop me from seriously considering it, of course, but in the end common sense won out. If I punished Landon something worse would happen to me. Even though I wanted him to suffer a bit – I was certainly suffering enough for both of us, after all – I didn’t want to hurt him. I couldn’t take it.

  “Do you honestly believe she didn’t cast it?” Thistle asked the question with a doubtful lilt. “Seriously?”

  “Of course. I … .” Huh. Why did I believe Aunt Tillie when she immediately said she was okay with me putting the kibosh on the curse? “Crap. She waited until I left to cast it, didn’t she?”

  “I think being pathetic is also making you stupid,” Thistle noted, grinning. “I wonder how Landon explained smelling like rotten sauerkraut to his new friends. I’m sure that was quite the conversation.”

  “You don’t think that somehow blew his cover, do you?”

  Thistle barked out a laugh, amused by the question. “I’m sure he explained it away by saying he rubbed himself in garbage or simply feigned ignorance. The point is that he knew why he smelled like rancid sauerkraut.”

  “Yeah.” My smile slipped. “I’m sure he knew … and still didn’t call.”

  “Bay … .” Sympathy washed over Clove’s face, but she didn’t finish the sentence. There was nothing she could say.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I shook myself from my reverie. “There’s nothing I can do about any of this. Driving myself crazy won’t help anyone, especially me.”

  “On a normal day I’d agree with that,” Thistle said. “Given what he’s put you through, though, I can’t help but think we should come up with another plan.”

  I didn’t like the evil grin flitting across her face. “I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking.”

  “No, no.” Thistle brightened as she warmed to whatever terrible plan was taking shape in her head. “I have an idea. You need to hear me out.”

  That was the last thing I needed. “I don’t think whatever idea you’re coming up with is a good one. In fact, I think we should forget all about Landon and go back to talking about Clove’s wedding.”

  “I agree with that.” Clove enthusiastically bobbed her head. She was always the least keen to embark on a potentially troublesome adventure. “Let’s talk about my wedding. I love talking about my wedding. I was thinking of lilies for a bridal bouquet.”

  “Yes, that sounds lovely,” Thistle deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “With your skin tone you should choose a pink lily. Let’s get back to Bay. I think we should cast a spell.”

  “Did you listen to a thing I said about telling Aunt Tillie not to cast the smelling curse on Landon?” I challenged.

  “I heard you, but that’s not what kind of spell I’m talking about,” Thistle argued. “I think we should perform a locator spell.”

  My eyebrows flew up my forehead. “And then what?”

  “We’ll follow him, watch him from the car until we get a few minutes alone, and then we’ll approach him,” Thistle offered. “Oh, we’ll also do what Clove wants and kick him in the nuts before we go, but we’ll find him first and give him five minutes to plead his case before we bring down the hammer and make him pay for breaking your heart.”

  Thistle’s voice grew more and more excited the longer she talked. She clearly loved the idea. Sadly, I didn’t hate the idea. The possibility of seeing Landon and kicking him where it hurt thrilled me. The notion of seeming even more pathetic in his eyes instantly diminished my temporary giddiness.

  “My heart isn’t broken.”

  Thistle cocked a challenging eyebrow. />
  “Okay, my heart isn’t broken much,” I clarified. “We can’t find Landon and confront him. That will ruin his case.”

  “I said we would wait until he was alone,” Thistle countered. “I meant it. I don’t want to ruin his case. I simply want to kick him in the balls.”

  “Oh, well, that sounds mildly fun.” I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Okay. We’ll conduct the spell and see where it leads us. But if I decide it’s a bad idea once we’ve found him I reserve the right to change my mind.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” Thistle beamed as she moved to the store shelves to gather the appropriate ingredients. “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I kick him.”

  “BIGFOOT IS living in the woods behind the library.”

  Viola, a woman who had died in front of me months ago but remained behind in her ghostly form, popped into view thirty minutes later, causing me to jolt.

  “What’s wrong?” Clove asked, instantly alert. She can’t see ghosts, but she can hear them if I talk to one long enough in her presence.

  “Viola is here,” I gritted out as I fought to refrain from exploding. “She says Bigfoot is living behind the library.”

  Thistle, unbothered by the announcement, dropped a pinch of ragweed into the cauldron to finish off the spell. “Ask her if he wears pants. I’ve always wanted to know if Bigfoot wears pants or just runs around commando.”

  “He goes commando,” I shot back, not missing a beat. “He’s a wild animal living in the forest. Where would he get clothes?”

  Thistle shrugged. “Perhaps he steals clothing because he’s modest.”

  “Or perhaps you’re crazy,” I muttered under my breath.

  “I heard that.”

  “I meant for you to hear it.” I fixed my attention on Viola. “What makes you think Bigfoot is living behind the library?”

  “I’ve seen his tracks and heard noises in the forest,” Viola replied. “It’s clearly Bigfoot. I heard roaring, and we don’t have lions in this area.”

  “Perhaps it was a bear,” Clove suggested, Viola’s voice becoming audible for her. “Supposedly we’re attracting more bears in this area these days.”

  “Did you read that on a Yogi Bear campsite pamphlet?” Thistle challenged.

  Clove ignored her. “It’s true.”

  “I don’t doubt it’s true, but I seriously doubt that a bear or Bigfoot is hanging around behind the library,” I pointed out. “There’s nothing for them to do there. They’d be bored.”

  “Yes, that’s the reason Bigfoot isn’t hanging behind the library,” Thistle drawled, rolling her neck until it cracked. “The spell is ready. We just need to give it a direction to follow.”

  “It would work better if we had some of Landon’s hair,” Clove noted. “It would anchor the spell.”

  “Oh, sadly I’m not pathetic enough to carry around a lock of his hair,” I offered. “Next time I’ll know better and steal huge hunks of it.”

  “Ooh. We should totally cut his hair as payback,” Thistle enthused.

  “I thought we were going to kick him in the balls.” Clove looked disappointed. “I was looking forward to that.”

  “We can do both,” Thistle said. “In fact, maybe we should think of a third thing to do to him so we can all enjoy the outing.”

  I’d heard worse ideas. “We’ll make that decision when we get there,” I said, inclining my chin toward the cauldron. “Let’s do this. I’m dying to know where he is.”

  “You won’t still feel that way if we find him in a hotel with that Becky woman,” Clove argued.

  “Yes, thank you for that.” My heart rolled at the thought. “You don’t think … .”

  Thistle cut me off before I could get up a full head of steam. “Of course he’s not sharing a hotel room with Becky the skank. He would never do that to you. I don’t care how angry I am with him, I will never believe that.”

  Deep down, I didn’t believe it either. “That’s good. I … that’s good.” I let out a relieved breath. “We need to get moving. I want to get this over with before dark in case I need to hurry home and drink myself to sleep.”

  “Good plan.” Thistle clapped her hands together, smiling as a blue ball of light popped into existence above the cauldron. We were capable of casting locator spells without using the cauldron, but they always worked better when we took the time to anchor them. “Okay. Find Landon Michaels,” Thistle ordered. “Go!”

  The light zipped through the front door of the store, taking me by surprise with its vigor. “Huh. That was quick.” I grabbed my keys from the couch and moved toward the door. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car. I’m parked in the front.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  Thistle and Clove followed me outside. The three of us pulled up short at the locator ball hovering in the middle of the street. It didn’t move, nor give us so much as a hint as to which direction we should head.

  “It’s acting weird, right?” I tilted my head to the side as I stared at the bouncing light. “Maybe we did something wrong.”

  “We didn’t do anything wrong,” Thistle countered. “I followed all of the instructions. I wanted to make sure we found him, because I’m in the mood to punish someone for all of your whining and it seems mean to kick you while you’re down. I … don’t understand.”

  “Maybe you should’ve sent it after Bigfoot,” Viola suggested. I’d almost forgotten she was still hanging around. “That would be a better way to spend your time.”

  I ignored her. “Maybe it will start moving when we get in the car.”

  “Or maybe it’s already found the person it’s looking for,” Clove suggested, inclining her chin toward the police station across the road.

  I followed her gaze, my stomach twisting when I saw the open door. The man standing inside of the doorframe didn’t look surprised to see me. He did look resigned, though.

  “Landon,” I said, exhaling heavily. “I … he’s here.”

  “Oh, man!” Thistle screwed up her face, outraged. “Now we’re not going to get to kick him in the nuts. This day officially sucks.”

  Five

  Landon, his face still covered with scruff, took a purposeful step toward me.

  “I was just coming to find you.”

  I felt separate, as if somehow detached from my own body. All I could do was blankly stare for a moment. Then, when I finally found words, they were snarky. “Did you think I was in the police department?”

  “No. I had to talk to Chief Terry first.”

  “So you were going to find Chief Terry and then eventually find me,” I supplied. “That seems about right.”

  “You tell him,” Clove muttered, narrowing her eyes.

  “Ooh, is this going to go all Dynasty or something?” Viola asked, perking up.

  Landon hesitated when he saw the look on my face. “Bay, we need to talk.”

  “Of course we do.” My stomach twisted as I pressed my eyes shut. The manner in which he said the words immediately made my head go to a rotten place. I had no idea why, but it was frustrating. “This is unbelievable.”

  “What’s unbelievable?” Landon took another step forward, keeping one wary eye on Thistle as she glared at him. “What’s with the ball of light? You probably shouldn’t let that thing loose in downtown Hemlock Cove. Someone might see it and start asking questions.”

  “We were looking for you,” Thistle offered, watching with grim satisfaction as the light briefly hummed before slamming into Landon’s chest.

  He jolted, as if expecting pain, but it dissipated instantly and he was left with nothing but a surprised look on his face. “You conjured that thing to find me?”

  I didn’t answer, but Clove nodded her head.

  “Why?” Landon asked, his eyes clouding. “What were you going to do if you found me? That wasn’t exactly a safe plan, Bay.”

  “It wasn’t her plan,” Thistle interjected, scorching Landon with the dirtiest look in he
r arsenal. She learned at Aunt Tillie’s knee throughout the years, so she could muster a really nasty expression when the mood struck. “I suggested it.”

  “Oh, well, I guess I should be relieved about that,” Landon shot back. “At least Bay hasn’t completely lost her mind.”

  “Just mostly.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought better about uttering them. Even after, though, I didn’t regret saying them. The look on Landon’s face was enough to give me some small measure of satisfaction. That should’ve filled me with guilt – or even modest shame – but I felt neither.

  “Bay … .” Landon looked pained. “Sweetie … .”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snapped, taking everyone by surprise with my vehemence.

  “Okay.” Landon held up his hands in mock surrender, his eyes going wide. “I see we have even more to talk about than I realized.”

  “Yes, well, it’s been a long month.”

  “And I’m sorry for that,” Landon started, whipping his head toward Thistle when he saw her forming fists and moving to cut off his avenue of approach. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m going to kick you in the nuts,” Thistle replied, not missing a beat. “I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks.”

  “Hey,” Clove protested. “I thought I was the one who gets to kick him in the nuts. You’re going to cut his hair.”

  “We can both kick him in the nuts,” Thistle shot back. “I think he’s earned it.”

  “You don’t think the hateful messages on my voice mail were enough?” Landon challenged. “What about making me smell like garbage for two days?”

  I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, confused. “I … .”

  I didn’t get a chance to ask the obvious question because Thistle was already crowing. “I told you that Aunt Tillie cursed him even though you told her not to. There’s no way she would go through all of that trouble just to let you change your mind.”

  “It was supposed to be cathartic,” I grumbled.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure it was … for her.” Thistle’s smile was wide, her eyes dangerous. “Maybe you should just go, Landon.”