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

by Amanda M. Lee

“It’s at a magic store, believe it or not,” Thistle said. “I’m dying to hear this story. I’m starting to wonder if this is how Scarlet operates. She tries to hang around with other purported magic purveyors, she messes with them and then she takes off when she’s about to get hammered.”

  I cast her a sidelong look. “How did you come to that conclusion?” I asked. “All we know so far is that we’re meeting a woman named Silver Fox – and that name definitely has to be made up – and that she owns a magic shop. We don’t know anything else.”

  “I’m extrapolating,” Thistle explained, making a face. “I’m allowed to do things like that.”

  “Why not wait until we have actual facts so you don’t have to extrapolate?”

  “Why don’t you bite me?”

  “Why don’t you eat dirt?”

  “Why don’t you … ?”

  “Shut up,” Aunt Tillie barked. The visor was lowered so she could spy on us in the mirror, and the glare she sent us was right from her road trip playbook from when we were kids. She hated road trips in general, but the ones that included us almost always ended with screams and threatened curses.

  “Yeah, shut up, Bay.” Thistle smirked as Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes. “You’re upsetting our great-aunt. She doesn’t like horseplay in the car.”

  “I don’t like the sound of your voice, mouth,” Aunt Tillie corrected. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “That could be because you insist on wearing a combat helmet in the car,” I pointed out. “You’ve accidentally knocked your head against the window so many times you probably have a concussion.”

  “The helmet protects me from head injuries.”

  “I’ve met you. You’ve clearly had a head injury in your time. I don’t think it’s working correctly.”

  Thistle beamed. “Nice one.”

  “Don’t make me crawl back there and wire your mouths shut,” Aunt Tillie threatened. “I’ll do it, too. I might even enjoy doing it. You won’t enjoy it.”

  “That was a totally lame threat,” I said. “It’s not possible for you to wire our mouths shut. It’s not like you carry wire around in your purse.”

  Aunt Tillie shot me a haughty look. “Would you like to test that theory?”

  Uh-oh. “Not particularly,” I replied, licking my lips. “I like my mouth the way it is.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Aunt Tillie crossed her arms over her chest and faced forward, keeping the visor down so she could watch Thistle and me should we get out of hand a second time. She really was a road trip kvetch. Now probably wasn’t the time to point that out, though.

  “Just out of curiosity, what’s the plan here?” Clove asked, using her turn signal to exit the freeway. “How are we going to use whatever information we find on Scarlet Darksbane to get her out of town?”

  “Is that our ultimate goal?” I asked, confused.

  “Definitely.” Thistle bobbed her head. “I want that store space for a studio. We need to get rid of Scarlet if we want that to happen.”

  “Isn’t that personal gain? I mean … we’re supposed to believe in karma and stuff.”

  “Karma is totally real,” Aunt Tillie said. “It’s also totally overrated. Don’t worry about karma. We create our own karma.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work. I mean … well, it is. If we do something bad, then something bad is supposed to happen to us. I don’t think that we can simply wish for the karma we want.”

  “Oh, geez.” Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “Here we go. The whining has already started. I thought you guys would hold off from doing that until the trip home. Some things never change.”

  “Oh, stuff it,” Thistle fired back. “We’re having a simple conversation about karma. I agree with Bay. I don’t think you can manufacture karma.”

  “That shows what you know,” Aunt Tillie countered. “I manufacture karma all the time. Why do you think I always beat Margaret and she’s left to do things like bring in ringer witches to mess with us?”

  “Some might argue that since we’re the ones taking a road trip to deal with that witch we’re dealing with karma,” I pointed out.

  “No one with any brains,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “Now, we’re almost to the store. When we get there, I want you to let me do the talking.”

  “Why would we want that?” Thistle protested. “Whenever we let you do the talking we end up with a case of bad karma shoved up our butts.”

  “Oh, well, that is a lovely visual,” Aunt Tillie drawled. “I can’t believe you actually managed to snag Marcus with that mouth. He’s a wonderful boy and you’re … evil.”

  “Everything I am is because of you,” Thistle teased. “Oh, and Marcus happens to love my mouth. He can’t enough of it.”

  Aunt Tillie shot Thistle a dirty look. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a filthy harlot?”

  “Only people without penises.”

  “That might tell you something, Thistle. Now, stop talking to me. I can’t listen to your voice for one more second. You’re on my last nerve.”

  Thistle flicked her eyes to me, triumphant. “Pay up. “I told you I could unhinge her by the time we landed in Grand Rapids. I won.”

  “I don’t know if that counts,” I argued. “She didn’t threaten to curse you or try to crawl in the backseat and throw you from the car.”

  “It totally counts,” Thistle snapped. “You have to pay up.”

  “That did it.” Aunt Tillie unbuckled her seatbelt and moved to crawl into the backseat with us. “I’ve had it. You’re going to wish you’d never met me before this is all said and done.”

  “We’re already there,” Thistle said, leaning forward to slap her hand against Aunt Tillie’s forehead and keep her in the front. “This definitely counts, Bay.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. Lunch is on me.”

  “You’re on my list,” Aunt Tillie hissed, slapping at Thistle’s hand. “You’re so on my list.”

  Thistle clearly wasn’t bothered by the threat. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

  SILVER FOX STOOD IN an ankle-length skirt, her arms folded over her chest and Manic Panic-colored hair flowing over her shoulders. We were right on time – despite a scuffle between Aunt Tillie and Thistle in the parking lot – and Silver was clearly ready for us.

  “We’re the Winchesters,” I announced, forcing a smile. “We spoke on the phone.”

  Silver returned the smile. “Yes. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised to hear from you. I’ve had time to reflect since your call, and I realize that it shouldn’t have surprised me.”

  “I’m Bay.” I extended my hand. “This is Thistle and Clove. They’re my cousins.”

  “And you?” Silver smiled as she met Aunt Tillie’s gaze.

  “I’m their chaperone,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’m supposed to be the one doing the talking, but they’ve never had respect for their elders.”

  “I believe that’s the curse of a grandmother,” Silver said. “They clearly love you, though, whatever they’ve done to anger you. I can read it in their auras.”

  Aunt Tillie wrinkled her nose as she glanced at me. “She’s full of crap. I can see your aura and you’re already wondering where we can go for lunch. You’re food-obsessed thanks to your boyfriend. It’s totally changed your aura.”

  Silver drew her eyebrows together as she looked me up and down. “You do have a bit of bacon shine in here.”

  “Oh, whatever.” That was a load of crap, and I wasn’t just saying that because Aunt Tillie tried to teach me to see auras when I was a kid and I totally failed. I was pretty sure they were bunk. Mostly. Well, maybe. Okay, I believe in auras and hate that I can’t see them. Sue me.

  “We drove a long way to talk to you. We have some questions about Scarlet Darksbane.”

  “And hopefully I have the answers you’re looking for,” Silver said. She flipped the sign on the door, informing customers that she was on a lunch break and would be back
in an hour. “Come into the back. I have tea and we can get comfortable.”

  “I would be a lot more comfortable with bourbon,” Aunt Tillie announced as she followed. “It’s been a long trip, and I forgot how much I hate road tripping with these morons.”

  “You talk big, but you love them, too,” Silver countered.

  “Not today I don’t.”

  “Even today.” Silver’s smile was soft as she gestured toward a sofa, loveseat and chairs. “This is my parlor. We can discuss things here without fear of being overheard.”

  “Are you worried about that?” I asked, sitting in the chair and smiling when Silver delivered a cup of tea. I wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but I didn’t want to be rude. That, of course, was Aunt Tillie’s job.

  “Tea tastes like crap without bourbon,” Aunt Tillie announced. “I can’t drink tea if it doesn’t have a kick.”

  Silver snorted, and retrieved a pint bottle of Jim Beam from the tea caddy in the corner. “I would hate for you to drink crappy tea.”

  “Cool.” Aunt Tillie smiled as she grabbed the bottle. “I can tell I’m going to like you already.”

  “And I think the same of you.” Silver sat in the chair next to me and glanced between faces before continuing. “I can’t believe the infamous Winchesters from Hemlock Cove are in my store. I never thought I’d see the day.”

  “We’re infamous?” Thistle asked dubiously as she sipped her tea. She snapped her fingers to get Aunt Tillie’s attention so she would pass the bourbon. “How have you heard about us?”

  “The Sabbath circles aren’t very big,” Silver replied. “They feel big at times, but they’re actually quite small. Your Sabbath celebrations are whispered about with fevered excitement. Everyone wants an invitation, although it’s been at least three years since you’ve opened your rituals to outsiders.”

  I tilted my head as I racked my brain. “Has it been that long?”

  “We’ve been busy,” Clove volunteered. “A lot has happened. We don’t mean to cut people out. It’s just … we don’t have a lot of choice in the matter at times. We’ve always got something going on.”

  “Yes, we hear about the murders and mayhem, too.” Silver’s lips quirked. “You’re kind of like the royal family of magic in Michigan. Did you know that?”

  “I always did fancy myself in a tiara,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Silver stared at the combat helmet for a long beat. “Perhaps you’ve fashioned your own tiara.”

  “I like that idea,” Aunt Tillie said. “Not to cut you off when you’re being all worshipful and stuff, but we’re on a bit of a timetable.”

  “Aunt Tillie.” Clove’s voice was low and full of warning.

  Aunt Tillie ignored her. “We need to know about Scarlet Darksbane.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, what’s the deal with her name?” Aunt Tillie asked. “It’s an absolutely stupid name – Silver Fox isn’t any better, just for the record – and I’m curious as to why you’re picking fake names rather than sticking with the ones you were born with.”

  “There’s power in a name,” Silver noted. “You know that. Power can be used for good or evil, so many of us opt to create a new name to protect that power.”

  “If you need a fake name to protect your power you don’t have much of it to begin with,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “Fair enough. But not everyone is born with power. You were, which is why you’re famous. The rest of us are left to create power, and it’s never as strong as those who are born with it.”

  “Does that mean Scarlet wasn’t born with power?” I asked. “We’ve been laboring under the assumption that she’s not a real witch. Is that true?”

  Silver shrugged. “I guess that depends on what you consider a real witch,” she said. “Is a child any less real if you adopt her rather than give birth?”

  “I think you’re taking offense at what I said when none was intended,” I said. “The thing is, we don’t have a lot of time, and Scarlet is clearly up to something. I don’t want to offend you, but we need answers.”

  Silver heaved a sigh. “Perhaps I’m being too sensitive. It wouldn’t be the first time. As for Scarlet, she’s … not even a made witch. She’s a scam artist. You should be very careful around her.”

  “We’re not afraid of her,” Thistle said. “We need to know about her past. What can you tell us?”

  Silver blinked several times in rapid succession and then let her shoulders deflate as she leaned back in her chair. “She was born Mary Kinney in Columbus, Ohio. She moved with her mother to Grand Rapids when she was in third grade. I know, because we were in the same elementary school.

  “We were friends and spent a lot of time together up until junior year of high school. That’s when her mother went to jail for retail fraud and Mary was sent back to Ohio to live with her grandmother,” she continued. “I didn’t see her for a long time.”

  “I thought retail fraud was shoplifting,” Clove said. “Who goes to jail for that?”

  “People who are caught several times and refuse to stop stealing,” Silver replied. “I didn’t think about Mary much while she was gone. We were friends while she was here, but it was more out of habit than anything else, if that makes sense.”

  “You didn’t like her,” Thistle surmised. “Even back then, you sensed there was something wrong with her, didn’t you?”

  “Sensed there was something wrong with her?” Silver cocked her head. “I think that’s giving me too much credit. I knew she was a user, but when you’re that age … well … you’re not always the best judge of character.

  “I didn’t hear from Mary after she left, and I didn’t miss her over the years,” she continued. “Then, out of the blue, she showed up more than ten years after I last saw her. I was working in another store at the time, learning the trade and researching the craft. I was a novice, but Mary came storming back into my world and claimed to be an expert. She had a different name and an interesting new persona. I was intrigued.”

  I glommed on to the obvious word. “Claimed?”

  “I didn’t realize at the time what she was,” Silver cautioned. “She asked me to be a part of her coven, and I was eager to accept. I wanted to meet others like me, and Scarlet seemed to have the inside track.

  “The first few months were informative and entertaining,” she continued. “Then I started to hear whispers. Scarlet would tell coven members that she could read a dark aura about them, that they were cursed and doomed for terrible things. She would offer to remove the curse, but attach financial strings to doing so. That went against the rules of the coven, but she did it anyway.”

  “Were you suspicious?” Thistle asked.

  “Yes, but I wasn’t comfortable enough to challenge her at the time. Mind you, this was five years ago and I was still coming in to my own.”

  “Continue,” I prodded.

  “Things went on like that for a few months,” Silver said. “Scarlet kept talking about the evil curses and people whispered behind her back because they thought she was crazy. Then they started to have a bad run of luck out of nowhere and the whispers shifted. It happened to more and more members until, suddenly, people started to believe what Scarlet said. I’m still not sure how it happened.”

  “So they paid her to remove the curses,” Aunt Tillie surmised. “When did you realize she was putting the curses on everyone in the first place?”

  “I think I always suspected, but it took the other coven members longer to realize it. When they did, retribution was swift.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “She was drummed out of the coven, and then it was suggested – rather aggressively – that she should leave town,” Silver replied. “Scarlet was never one to lose, so she threatened to find strong witches with which to fight us. Everyone disregarded her, but … here you are.”

  “That doesn’t sound like she’s completely a fraud,” Thistle noted. “She clearly
found a book at some point and used it to curse others. That has to be the Cornish journal we found.”

  “Cornish?” Silver arched an eyebrow. “Is it red with dated writing?”

  I nodded. “We found it in her safe.”

  “What were you doing in her safe?”

  “Breaking in.” I saw no reason to lie. “I also found a poppet in my sock. It wasn’t strong, but she copied the design from somewhere. What do you know about the book that she’s carrying?”

  “Just that another coven member found it at an estate sale and it went missing about the time Scarlet was drummed out of the group,” Silver explained. “That’s very interesting.”

  “I think that depends on how you look at it,” Aunt Tillie said. “We’ve been watching her because we’re convinced she’s a fraud. She’s allied herself with one of our enemies. We’ve also had a murder and initially we wondered if Scarlet was involved. Do you think she would be involved with a murder?”

  Silver was taken aback by the question. “No!”

  “Are you saying that because you were friends with her for a long time?”

  “No. I’m saying that because she’s too lazy and worried about self-preservation to commit a murder,” Silver replied. “That’s simply not how she operates.”

  I was coming to that conclusion myself. “Can you tell us anything about her that we might consider important before we take her down?”

  “Simply to watch your back,” Silver replied. “Scarlet has a reputation for either sleeping her way to the top or manipulating others out of the top position. I’d guess she doesn’t understand how strong you really are. To her, magic was always a game. She doesn’t boast real magic, so she probably thinks no one does. That will be your advantage.”

  “We don’t need an advantage over her,” Aunt Tillie countered. “She’s merely a gnat … and gnats get swatted.”

  “Don’t underestimate her,” Silver warned. “She will lash out if backed into a corner.”

  “Yeah? Well, we punch rather than slap,” Aunt Tillie said. “That woman will be sorry she ever came to my town. I promise you that.”

  Thistle reached over and snagged the bottle of bourbon from the table before Aunt Tillie could add more to her cup. “You’ve had enough. You’re talking like a supervillain.”