A Witch Before Dying (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 11)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “He’s not being mean to me,” I replied. “He’s simply being … standoffish.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “He’s purposely freezing her out and acting like a martyr,” Thistle supplied. “It’s a man thing.”

  “I warned him that I wouldn’t put up with any crap,” Landon said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “That’s really not necessary.” I grabbed my purse. “I’m a big girl. You’ve done enough. I can take care of Brian Kelly.”

  Landon didn’t look convinced. “Well … .”

  “If she needs help, she’ll ask,” Thistle said. “You don’t always have to swoop in and save her.”

  “I don’t swoop in,” Landon snapped.

  And they were back to being snark machines.

  “I’ll text you with a timeframe, Landon,” I called out as I opened the door. He was seemingly so lost in his argument with Thistle he didn’t notice me leaving. “The meeting shouldn’t take too long.”

  I paused as I stared at them. They stood toe-to-toe, as if they might actually throw down. I knew that wouldn’t happen, but it was still a freaky picture.

  “Try not to kill each other,” I said finally.

  “No promises.” Landon broke away from Thistle and grabbed a knit hat from the closet, tugging it on my head before I could escape. “It’s freezing out. I don’t want you catching a cold over the holidays.”

  It was a sweet gesture. “Thank you. I promise I won’t be too long.”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Thistle said. “I plan to teach Landon to eat dirt while you’re gone. Now that he’s an official member of the family, I think it’s time he learns how we treat family.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Like dirt?”

  Thistle bobbed her head. “Exactly.”

  “Great. Have fun.” I tugged the door shut without a glance over my shoulder. I was massively excited about living with Landon. Living with Landon and Thistle together was a different story. Right now, it felt like my pain and suffering would never end. I mean … I looked forward to a festival planning meeting.

  How sick is that? Wait … don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know.

  Two

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  Hemlock Cove’s police chief, Terry Davenport, loitered near the refreshment table when I let myself into the meeting room at City Hall. We’d always been close – he’d taken over a lot of fatherly duties for Thistle, Clove and me when we were younger and our biological fathers left town – and I was always happy to see him.

  “What are you doing here?” I sidled up and looked at the paper cup in his hands. “Is that bourbon because you know Mrs. Little will be running the meeting?”

  Chief Terry shrugged. “If I thought I could get away with bourbon in here I’d already be drunk.”

  “Really? I’m kind of looking forward to a little bit of order,” I supplied. “Mrs. Little is a pain in the butt – I know, that goes without saying – but she always keeps things on point.”

  Chief Terry’s gaze was curious. “What’s up?”

  I averted my eyes, mortified that I was turning into an overt whiner, and grabbed a cookie. It looked to have come from a box, but you can never go wrong with chocolate chip. “What do you mean?” I bit into the cookie and made a face. Apparently I was mistaken about never going wrong with chocolate chip. “Blech.” I spit the cookie into a napkin and glanced around for a trash receptacle.

  “What’s wrong with the cookie?” Mrs. Little asked as she moved past us to pour a cup of coffee.

  “It tastes like feet.” I saw no reason to lie. The cookie was horrible. “It’s stale and gross. I think whoever brought them was trying to unload outdated cookies on us.”

  “I brought the cookies.”

  Of course she did. “Oh, well, they’re … not good.” What? I’m not going to lie to make her feel better. Two weeks ago she was trying to force people to do her bidding thanks to a cursed wishing well, something she fought getting rid of because she enjoyed having power over everyone. “Next time you should bake your own.”

  “Not all of us have time to bake.” Mrs. Little’s expression was withering. “Some of us have actual jobs.”

  “Whatever.” I tossed the offending cookie into the trash and focused on Chief Terry. “You didn’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Chief Terry is here to handle security questions,” Mrs. Little volunteered. “That’s his job.”

  My temper flared. “I don’t believe I asked you.”

  “You asked the question in front of me and I answered.”

  “Whatever.” I rolled my neck until it cracked. I was sick to death of annoying people … and that included the ones I lived with. “Now I really want that bourbon we were talking about.”

  Chief Terry snickered as Mrs. Little murdered me with a dark glare.

  “Drinking at town meetings is strictly forbidden,” she said. “It’s in the bylaws.”

  “Is that really in the bylaws?”

  Chief Terry nodded. “Margaret had it added about two years ago because everyone was getting drunk whenever she called a meeting. The level of drunkenness went up and down given how often she talked.”

  Oh, well, that made sense. “Fun.”

  Chief Terry beamed. “I’ll say.”

  “Just take your seats,” Mrs. Little ordered. “We’ll be starting in five minutes.”

  I mock saluted, snickering when Mrs. Little glared. Chief Terry tugged on my arm to separate us, pointing toward a pair of chairs at the edge of the circle so we could sit. He waited until Mrs. Little was distracted to speak again.

  “You seem in an odd mood,” he noted. “What’s going on? Why are you so … cranky?”

  “I don’t believe I am cranky.”

  “Then you clearly can’t see the expression on your face.” Chief Terry pulled back so he could give me a long and weighted look. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” I replied hurriedly. The last thing I wanted was Chief Terry worrying about my domestic struggles. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Talk.”

  “It’s just … Thistle and Landon are driving me crazy. They’re fighting like snakes and porcupines.”

  Chief Terry arched a questioning eyebrow. “Snakes and porcupines?”

  “It’s a thing. I saw it on YouTube.”

  “Ah, well, okay.” Chief Terry shifted on the metal chair. It was a struggle for him to comfortably fit his large frame on one. “Why are Landon and Thistle fighting?”

  “Today?”

  “Sure.”

  “Today they’re fighting because Thistle used his razor to shave her legs and purposely ran down the battery,” I explained. “He couldn’t shave – although I think his stubble is sexy, so I don’t mind – and she’s happy because she didn’t want the razor taking up plugs in the bathroom.”

  “First, don’t ever say ‘sexy’ when talking about Landon in front of me,” Chief Terry chided, wagging a finger. “You know I don’t like that.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Second, have you considered that guesthouse is too small for four people?”

  “Of course I’ve considered it. We don’t have a lot of options. The new barn house isn’t quite ready yet and it’s too cold to force Thistle to sleep outside, although I have considered it.”

  “Maybe one couple should rent a room at the inn,” Chief Terry suggested. “That would get you guys out from being on top of each other.”

  “Yes, and into a position where Mom and the aunts are on top of us,” I pointed out. “That’s actually worse than listening to Thistle and Landon argue.”

  “I guess I didn’t consider that.” Chief Terry rubbed his hand over his chin. “Have you considered telling them to stop?”

  “Only about a hundred times.”

  “It didn’t work, huh?”

  “It puts me in an awkward position,” I clarified. “If I take Landon’s side, T
histle accuses me of putting bros before … well, cousins.”

  “I know the saying,” Chief Terry said dryly. “Why not take Thistle’s side to head off a fight?”

  “Because then Landon whines.”

  “Whines?”

  “Like a little girl,” I confirmed. “He doesn’t like it when I take Thistle’s side.”

  “And meanwhile you’re caught in the crossfire,” Chief Terry mused. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “The good news is that Marcus and I have really bonded,” I supplied. “We go out to the side patio and drink wine together even though it’s freezing. He’s quite knowledgeable on a variety of issues, including horse feed and the proper texture of paint for a barn wall.”

  Chief Terry snickered. “I see. That sounds … great.”

  “I don’t know if ‘great’ is the right word, but I haven’t killed Thistle or Landon yet, so it seems to be working.”

  Chief Terry licked his lips. “Have you considered that maybe Marcus is a better fit for you?”

  The question caught me off guard. “No.”

  “Just think about it,” Chief Terry prodded. “He never finds trouble and he’s not addicted to bacon. Plus, well, he’s afraid of me. I can bully Marcus into doing what I want.”

  Realization dawned. “And you can’t bully Landon because he’s no longer afraid of you,” I surmised. “I see the way your mind works. Alas, while I like Marcus, I think he’s better suited for Thistle. I happen to love Landon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he makes me laugh.”

  “He’s a pain,” Chief Terry said. “Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy he’ll be living here. That means he’ll be available with federal help on a lot of cases.”

  Hemlock Cove was a tourist town, and its funds were limited. “And that will help you,” I mused. “That’s good. I was a little worried he’d be bored living here at first, but he doesn’t seem to be. Other than Thistle, he’s … happy.”

  “Of course he’s happy,” Chief Terry scoffed. “He has you. What’s not to be happy with?”

  I poked his side, genuinely amused. “You’re good for my ego.”

  “You’ll get through this, Bay,” Chief Terry said. “Once Thistle has her own place and she’s not jockeying for superiority with Landon, things will get back to normal.”

  I could only hope he was right. I opened my mouth to say just that, but Mrs. Little picked that moment to stride to the front of the room. She cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention, clapped her hands together once, and then began her spiel.

  “As everyone knows, we’ve been looking for an early-December festival idea,” she started. “Hemlock Cove makes a lot of money on festivals, and we want to have at least one every month. There are some months we need two, including December. Early December has always been difficult, but we’ve finally found something special, and we’ll be launching the new festival right away.”

  “Right away?” I spoke without raising my hand – a big no-no in Mrs. Little’s rule book – but I couldn’t help myself. “How can you possibly be ready to launch a festival without any planning? I thought this would be something for next year.”

  “That’s what you get for thinking, Bay.” Mrs. Little let loose with a condescending smile. “I believe you know the rules, by the way. When you want to speak you … what do you do, Bay?”

  I exhaled heavily through my nose to keep my temper in check. “Generally I open my mouth and form words.”

  Mrs. Little narrowed her eyes. “The correct answer is that you raise your hand.”

  “This isn’t elementary school.”

  “Do I have to put you in the corner with a dunce cap on your head?” Mrs. Little challenged. “You seem to be keen on making a scene.”

  That was rich coming from her. I considered furthering the argument but Chief Terry rested a warning hand on my arm. His message was clear. “I’m sorry. Please continue, Mrs. Little.”

  Mrs. Little preened. “Thank you, Bay. I’m so happy to have your permission to do my job.”

  “I’m totally going to curse her green,” I muttered under my breath, earning a stern look from Chief Terry. He didn’t like talk of curses. “Not just green. Puke green.”

  “Okay. Calm down.” Chief Terry’s voice was low. “She likes being in charge. We all know that. She can’t help herself.”

  I chewed my bottom lip as I watched Mrs. Little put on a show for the group members. “This festival is going to be a little different. We’ll have our regular booths, of course, but we’re adding two new elements.

  “The first is a traveling theater troupe,” she continued. “They’ll perform special shows – including a historical witch program sure to thrill our residents and guests alike. They’ll also interact with visitors on an individual level.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from interjecting another question. “How? What kind of performers are we talking about? They’re not mimes, are they? Mimes are totally creepy.”

  “Did you raise your hand, Bay?”

  Oh, she was asking for it now. I raised my hand and immediately launched into the question without waiting for Mrs. Little to call on me. “How are they going to interact with the guests? Is it like interactive theater? Improv?”

  “They’re more of a renaissance festival troupe,” Mrs. Little supplied. “There will be singing, fake jousting under the big tent, troubadours and the like, and they’ll have horses.”

  That didn’t sound terrible. In fact, it almost sounded like a good idea. The look Mrs. Little flicked in my direction told me I was missing something, though. She seemed far too pleased with herself.

  “The other addition is something I think our town really needs,” Mrs. Little said, something evil flashing in her eyes as she pinned me with a haughty gaze. “I want you all to meet Scarlet Darksbane. She’s a real witch … like … a real one. And she’s opening a new store in the old Cauldron Company space on the corner.”

  I stilled as Chief Terry shifted. “A real witch, huh?”

  Mrs. Little’s smirk was evil. “Yes. I think we need a real witch to balance all the fake witches. Don’t you, Bay?”

  It was a pointed jab. Mrs. Little, despite her protestations to the contrary, knew very well that my family was all witches. She’d been cursed enough times by Aunt Tillie that arguing against that fact would be ridiculous.

  “I think that new people in town is always a good idea,” I gritted out.

  Chief Terry patted my knee, as if understanding my annoyance. “Are the individuals here?” he asked. “Can we meet them? It’s always better to meet new people before deciding on matters like this.”

  “The matter has already been decided,” Mrs. Little argued. “You guys put me in charge of festival preparation, so I made the decision.”

  “Yeah, but we did that to keep you busy and out of trouble,” I pointed out. “We didn’t do it to give you unlimited control over the town.”

  “Bay, please don’t make me remind you to raise your hand again,” Mrs. Little ordered. “You’re starting to get annoying.”

  “I’m starting to get annoying?” I moved to hop to my feet but Chief Terry dragged me down before I could get a full head of steam.

  “She’s playing you,” Chief Terry hissed. “Don’t give her the satisfaction of melting down.”

  That was easy for him to say.

  “I have two representatives here from the new additions to the upcoming festival,” Mrs. Little said. “The first is Adele Twigg. She runs the theater troupe. Scarlet is also here to answer questions.” Mrs. Little swept her hand toward a striking redhead in the corner. I wasn’t sure how I missed her upon first scanning the room, but now that I was aware of her presence I couldn’t look anywhere else.

  “Now, I believe those are the main issues we have to go over,” Mrs. Little said. “I have instructions for everyone – and they’re already printed – so pick up your folder and meet our new additions.” Mrs. Litt
le’s eyes locked with mine, something dark and hateful passing between us. “I think, with everyone’s help, this will be the best festival ever. Our new additions are just the shot of adrenalin Hemlock Cove needs to stay fresh and exciting.”

  I swallowed hard as I worked to contain my temper. Chief Terry grabbed my elbow and helped me stand.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on here?” Chief Terry kept his voice low. “Why are you so upset?”

  That was a very good question. “Because Mrs. Little is clearly up to something,” I replied. “What do you know about this Scarlet Darksbane woman?” I wasn’t particularly worried about Mrs. Twigg. She would be here for a week and then go on her merry way. I could tolerate that. But the new witch was something that set my teeth on edge.

  “Not much,” Chief Terry replied. “I can pretty much guarantee her real name isn’t Darksbane.”

  I flicked my eyes to him. “What is it?”

  He shrugged. “I only know Darksbane is something made up.”

  I kept my gaze fixed on Scarlet as she conversed with other members of the festival group. She seemed to be easygoing and gregarious, genuinely interested in what they had to say. Her eyes kept drifting to me, though, and the smile she sent me was friendly but chilling at the same time.

  “I don’t like this,” I muttered, scratching my cheek. “If Mrs. Little brought her here it has to be for a reason.”

  Chief Terry arched an eyebrow. “My understanding is that she’s been eyeing a spot in Hemlock Cove for the past few months. We didn’t have any openings until they decided to close The Cauldron Company. It seems there wasn’t big money in selling cauldrons and nothing else.”

  “Have you met her?” I finally yanked my gaze from Scarlet and focused on him. “What is she like?”

  “I met her very briefly when she was looking at the space,” Chief Terry replied, worry licking his features. “Bay, what’s wrong?”

  He clearly didn’t get it. “Haven’t you asked yourself why Mrs. Little would tout the fact that Scarlet Darksbane is a real witch?”