On a Witch and a Prayer
A Wicked Witches of the
Midwest Short
Amanda M. Lee
Text copyright © 2015 Amanda M. Lee
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Author’s Note
Books by Amanda M. Lee
One
“Michaels, I have something to give to you before you go.”
I glanced up from my desk, internally sighing as my boss, Steve Newton, sidled up to me with a file clutched in his beefy hands. “I’m leaving for my weekend.”
“I know, Landon,” Newton said, his eyes narrowing as they regarded me. “I’m not asking you to put off your weekend.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Nothing in the free world could stop me from putting this place in my rearview mirror in exactly five minutes.”
“Let me guess, you’re spending the weekend holed up in Hemlock Cove with a certain blonde?”
I shrugged, nonplussed. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Of course not,” Newton said, gesturing toward the framed photograph on my desk. The blonde in the photograph had a huge grin, sparkling blue eyes, and she leaned in close to me, as though I whispered something to her. I loved that photo, and if I remembered that day correctly, I had been whispering something dirty to her – and that was exactly why I was in such a hurry to get to Hemlock Cove. “If I could spend the weekend in bed with that, I would, too.”
I scowled. “We do more than spend the weekend in bed.”
Newton waited.
“We eat, too.”
Newton’s guffaw was loud and hearty. “You know, when you first started working here, I thought you were a bachelor for life. From what the other guys said, you didn’t have any inclination to spend more than one night with the same woman.
“Now you spend every night you can with the same woman,” he continued. “People are starting to talk.”
“People should keep their mouths shut,” I said, irked. “Bay is not their concern. She’s my concern.”
“Are you concerned about her?”
“I’m always concerned about her,” I grumbled. “She collects trouble like other women do shoes and handbags.”
Newton smirked. “I’ve noticed. Her name pops up in more files than I’m comfortable with.”
I shifted uncomfortably, the idea of my boss focusing on Bay causing my stomach to roll. “It’s not her fault. She’s a good person. She just has an uncanny ability to uncover … .”
“Crime?”
Unfortunately, that was exactly right. “It’s not always her,” I said, shifting to a different tactic. “Her family stumbles across trouble more than she does.” That wasn’t a lie. Of course, Bay was usually in the thick of it with her family, but I decided to ignore that little tidbit.
“I’ve read about her family, too,” Newton said. “I especially like that aunt of hers … what’s her name … Tillie? I’d love to meet her someday. She sounds like a real piece of work.”
“You don’t want to meet her,” I said, picturing Aunt Tillie’s combat helmet. “Trust me.”
“Why? Is she mean?”
“She’s … crotchety.”
“What’s wrong? Doesn’t she like you? Did you finally find a woman who doesn’t puddle at your feet and fall under your spell?”
Because Bay’s family was witches … yes, real witches … mention of spells set my teeth on edge. “She likes me.” Sometimes, I added silently. “She’s … set in her ways.”
“I still want to meet her,” Newton said. “She sounds like a real pip.”
“She has her moments,” I said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Did you have something you wanted to give me?”
“Yeah,” Newton said, nodding his head. “We’ve got a new mandate from the higher-ups. They want us to start going through some of the cold cases.”
“Great,” I groaned, my shoulders sagging. “That’s not a waste of manpower.”
“I agree,” Newton said. “I don’t make the decisions, though.” He handed the file over to me. “I figured this one was right up your alley.”
“And why is that?”
“Because the woman in question went missing from Hemlock Cove.”
I stilled, unsure. “Seriously? How long ago?”
“It’s been more than twenty years,” Newton said. “I honestly don’t know whether you’re going to find anything. Odds are, you won’t. Still, you have close ties with the community. I’m sure the chief there will be willing to give you what the town has, and maybe your girlfriend’s family even knew the victim.”
“And you want this solved this weekend?” Irritation bubbled up, and I fought the urge to snap. That wouldn’t get me anywhere. I knew that. Still, the happy fantasies of starry walks and breakfast in bed were starting to diminish in the back of my mind. So much for a lazy weekend with Bay, where clothing was going to be optional and her smile was the only thing I wanted to see for the next three days.
“I don’t know that you’re going to be able to solve it,” Newton said. “We have to give it due diligence. If you don’t get anywhere, you don’t get anywhere.”
That didn’t sound so bad. “Fine,” I said, taking the file. “I’m still giving Bay most of my attention this weekend.”
“Isn’t that how you spend every weekend? In fact, don’t you sneak off there to spend the night every chance you get during the week, too?” Newton’s eyes shined as he regarded me, and his voice was teasing, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether my boss was hinting at something specific.
“I’m never late for work,” I replied. “I still have my place here in Traverse City. I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“I’m not getting at anything,” Newton said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “I only want to know if I’m going to win the pool.”
“What pool?”
“There’s a pool on when you’re going to propose.”
A year ago, a suggestion like that would have been preposterous. Now? I wasn’t looking for rings and I have no intention of proposing anytime soon, but the idea wasn’t as terrifying as it once was. It doesn’t make me feel sick to my stomach, and I’m not looking for an exit door. In fact, when I finally uttered the L-word a few weeks ago, it felt natural and right. That’s progress, right?
“I think you guys are going to be waiting for a little while yet,” I said, shoving the file into my bag and getting to my feet. “I’m perfectly happy the way things are.” Actually, I was more than happy. I was … content.
“Is she happy?”
I grinned. “She’s always happy where I’m concerned.”
Newton rolled his eyes. “Does she like that ego of yours?”
“I haven’t heard any complaints.”
“Don’t forget the cold case,” Newton said. “And, while we’re at it, what does her mother look like? You said she’s available, right?”
I brushed past him, internally laughing. “You’re not in her league, Newton. You wouldn’t have a shot with any of them.”
“You don’t know that,” Newton protested. “I can be charming, too.”
“They don’t do charming,” I said. “In fact, if you’re not comfortable screaming through dinner, you’re not even going to be a blip on their radar.”
“Do you scream through dinner
?”
“At least once a week,” I replied. “Speaking of that, I need to get going. If I’m late for dinner they won’t feed me, and I’ve been looking forward to homemade pot roast for three days. See you Monday.”
“YOU’RE dead to me!”
I barely registered the raised voices as I let myself into the guesthouse an hour later. I scanned the living room briefly, noting that Thistle, hands on hips, stood in the middle of the kitchen while Bay was closer to her bedroom. That was good for what I had planned later in the evening, but the argument would have to be wrapped up first.
“Hey,” I said, kissing Bay’s cheek by way of greeting and then slipping behind her so I could drop my bag on her bedroom floor.
“This is not my fault,” Bay said. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this.”
“Who else should I blame?” Thistle asked, her pink head bopping up and down as she gathered steam. “You’re the one who gave Aunt Tillie the computer. She’s had, like, eight things delivered during the past week alone. What do you think is in those boxes?”
“I’m just hoping it’s not alive,” Bay said. “We still haven’t found that scorpion she ordered. What was his name again?”
“Fred.”
“Yeah. What do you think happened to Fred?”
“I think he made a run for it,” Thistle said, rolling her eyes. “Even a scorpion is afraid of Aunt Tillie.”
“What are you arguing about?” I asked, returning to the living room. I tossed my workbag on the small sofa table and shuffled into the kitchen to grab a cola from the refrigerator.
“We’re in trouble,” Thistle said.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said. “Where you guys are concerned, that could mean anything. You didn’t do anything illegal, did you?”
Bay shot me a look, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way her eyes flashed. She’s cute when she’s annoyed, and where the Winchester witches are concerned, she’s always annoyed.
“When was the last time we did anything illegal?” Thistle challenged.
“Doesn’t Aunt Tillie still make her own wine and sell it without a permit?”
“That’s her, not us.”
“Doesn’t she have a pot field?” I asked, internally cringing that I not only knew about its existence, but because I could do nothing about it. She’d magically cloaked the field. I’d been looking every chance I got. I had no idea how she did it, but it was starting to get frustrating. I would never turn her in, but I would burn it without a hint of regret.
“Again, that’s her. We have nothing to do with that field.” Thistle was irritated. Since that was her perpetual state, I wasn’t fazed by the dark look on her face.
“Let’s start over,” I said. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Bay got us in trouble,” Thistle said, crossing her arms over her chest.
I rolled my eyes until they landed on Bay, losing myself in the snug fit of her jeans for a moment before I realized we were in the middle of another crisis. “What did you do?”
“Aunt Tillie has been ordering things online with the computer I gave her,” Bay said, choosing her words carefully. “She’s been getting a lot of packages. When we try to see what they are, she hides them.”
That couldn’t be good. “Can’t you just go online and see what she’s been ordering?”
“She hid it.”
I fought the mad urge to laugh. Aunt Tillie was more work than any ten kids could ever be and, while the woman drives me crazy, she’s always entertaining. “She probably ordered more obnoxious clothing and another combat helmet or something. Why is this bothering you so much?
“Seriously, I’m the biggest worrier in the world where she’s concerned,” I continued. “It’s probably harmless, though.”
Now it was Thistle’s turn to roll her eyes. “When has Aunt Tillie ever done anything harmless?”
That was a pretty good question. “She’s been quiet for weeks,” I pointed out. I realized, after I said it, that wasn’t a proper argument. When Aunt Tillie is quiet, that’s when things get out of hand. That meant she was mustering her energy for something big. “She could be buying something completely harmless.”
Bay cocked an eyebrow.
“Fine,” I said, rubbing the spot between my eyebrows wearily. “I’ll ask her what she’s been buying when we get up to the inn.”
“She’s not going to tell you,” Thistle scoffed.
“You don’t know that,” I said. “She’s told me things before.”
“When?”
I made a face. “She’ll tell me.”
“Whatever,” Thistle said. “We have to figure out what she’s buying. If we don’t, our mothers are going to be all over us until we do.”
“I have trouble believing you can’t handle your mothers,” I said. “Sure, they’re … insistent sometimes. They live in the same house with Aunt Tillie, though. Shouldn’t she be their responsibility?”
“It’s a good thing you’re handsome,” Thistle said. “I don’t think you’d make it through life if you weren’t.”
I glanced at Bay for support. “She’s going to tell me what she’s doing.”
Doubt flooded Bay’s eyes. “Do you want to rest up before we go to The Overlook?”
The question confused me. “What do you mean?”
Bay tilted her head to the side, gesturing toward her bedroom. “Do you want to rest up?”
I couldn’t help but smile when I realized what she was really suggesting. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
“WE have to get dressed,” Bay said, poking my side to make sure I was awake an hour later. “We have fifteen minutes to get up there.”
“Give me a minute,” I murmured, trying to wring a few more precious moments of quiet from my day before chaos descended.
“We can’t be late,” Bay said. “We’re already on their list.”
“Blame me,” I said. “Your mother can’t stay angry when I’m here. She’s putty in my hands.”
“Oh, please,” Bay said. “The bloom is off where you’re concerned. You’ve started bossing her around and taking charge in areas she thinks she has domain over.”
“For example?”
“You wouldn’t let her hover when I was … hurt … by Nick a few weeks ago.”
I shifted my gaze, finding Bay propped on her elbow with her teeth embedded in her lower lip. That incident was still a sore subject between us, even though I was trying to let it go. “You weren’t hurt,” I said. “You were shot.”
“I remember. I was there.”
“I wasn’t going to spend the night away from you after you were shot,” I said, my mind roaming back to the day in question. “Your mother must understand that.”
“She’s used to people doing what she wants.”
“Well, where you’re concerned, I’m going to do what I want,” I said, tugging her lip away from her teeth. “Stop doing that. You don’t have to be afraid that I’m going to fly off the handle. Nick is locked up. You’re safe. Let’s … just drop it.”
“That sounds good,” said Bay, rolling out of bed and searching the carpet for her clothes. “Come on. I’m starving.”
My stomach chimed in with a loud rumble, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “Fine,” I said, giving in. “They’re still making pot roast tonight, right?”
“If that’s what my mother promised you, then that’s what you’re getting,” Bay said, tugging a brush through her hair and studying her reflection in the mirror. “She’s going to know what we were doing.”
“Do you really care?”
“Of course not.” The look on her face told me otherwise.
I pulled my jeans and shirt on and took the brush from her, running it through my own dark hair before handing it back. “Better?”
Bay smiled, causing me to lean forward and kiss her lightly. “Come on,” I said. “Now that you’ve mentioned food, I can’t think of anything
else.”
“If you find out what Aunt Tillie has going on, I’ll reward you later,” Bay offered.
“I think you should have tried to negotiate that outcome before … this,” I replied, gesturing toward the rumpled bed.
“Who says I was going to reward you with that?”
I frowned. What else was there?
Two
“You don’t have to drag me,” Bay complained, tugging on the hand snugly engulfed by mine. “We still have two minutes. Are you really that hungry?”
I slowed my pace enough to let Bay’s shorter legs catch up. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but I’ve been dreaming about pot roast for three nights.”
“And here I thought you spent your nights dreaming about me while we were apart.”
“I do,” I replied, unruffled, “and in my dreams you’re covered in pot roast … and sometimes bacon.”
I followed Bay through the back door of the inn, glancing around the cozy living quarters Winnie, Marnie, Twila and Aunt Tillie shared. It was always immaculate. While Bay, Thistle and Clove weren’t pigs, the guesthouse was rarely orderly. I didn’t really mind the clutter. There was something comfortable about Thistle’s crafts corner, even if wax and clay were spread all over the place. I liked seeing Bay’s laptop on the coffee table, mostly because that meant whatever work she had to do for The Whistler she would be doing at home – where I had easy access to her. Still, a little cleanliness wouldn’t hurt the younger set of Winchester witches.
“Do you smell that?”
Bay turned to me, her eyes quizzical. “What is it? Please don’t tell me you smell pot. We’re definitely going to be late if you search Aunt Tillie’s room.”
I grinned. “I was talking about the pot roast, goof,” I said, flicking the end of her nose. “Still, searching Aunt Tillie’s bedroom isn’t a bad idea. If you really want to know what she’s up to, that would be the place to start.”
“Are you saying you want to see Aunt Tillie’s bedroom?”
“I … .” Hmm, how should I answer that?
“I didn’t think so,” Bay said. “If you see Aunt Tillie’s room, you’re going to have nightmares for weeks.”
On a Witch and a Prayer: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 1
