Landon Calling
A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short
Amanda M. Lee
WinchesterShaw Publications
Copyright © 2017 by Amanda M. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Amanda M. Lee
One
“Michaels, what are you still doing here?”
I jerked my head up, shaking off the remnants of a daydream, and fixed my boss Steve Newton with a friendly smile. “I wasn’t doing anything,” I hedged. “I was just … running through a mental to-do list and you caught me.”
That wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t exactly the truth, either.
“Uh-huh.” Steve didn’t look convinced as he perched on the edge of my desk. “Were you thinking about your girlfriend? You can tell me. I think it’s cute.”
I scowled, drawing my eyebrows together and shaking my head as I leaned back in my desk chair. Even though I fought the urge, I couldn’t stop my eyes from flicking to the photo on my desk. It featured my favorite blonde – Bay Winchester, her big smile and mischievous eyes staring back at me, causing my lips to curve – and was a particular favorite of mine. I was in the photograph, too, of course. I stand next to her, my arm slung over her shoulders, and I stare at her profile. She’s the focal point of the photo, and now my life. I have no problem admitting that to myself. On the flip side, when other people make fun of me it still grates a bit.
My name is Landon Michaels and I’m an FBI agent. I work out of the Traverse City office in northern Lower Michigan, and while I originally thought I would use my position as a stepping-stone to bigger cities, that’s no longer the case. I’ve found I’m happy here and happy with my blonde. Hell, I’m even happy with the work I do. I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m content. I know. It boggles the mind.
“I was not thinking about my girlfriend,” I lied, averting my gaze. It wasn’t a complete lie. I’d been thinking about my girlfriend’s family – which isn’t nearly as weird as you might think – so I didn’t feel bad denying my boss’s charge. “I don’t care what you think, I’m not whipped.”
“I don’t believe I used that word.” Steve’s lips twitched. “But now that you mention it, how are the arrangements going for your big move?”
A few weeks ago, after a particularly tough undercover assignment that resulted in Bay being considered a murder suspect, I pulled the trigger and demanded my boss allow me to move to Hemlock Cove. I’d been toying with the possibility for months, trying to figure a smooth way to broach the subject with Steve that wouldn’t make me look like a wimp. But the time spent away from Bay turned out to be too much. I didn’t want to leave my job, but I needed to be close to her. Steve ultimately agreed that there was no reason I couldn’t live in Hemlock Cove – which is only forty-five minutes from Traverse City – while keeping up my duties at the regional office. I was officially a few weeks from giving up my Traverse City apartment and moving to Hemlock Cove. I couldn’t wait … although I had no intention of admitting that to Steve.
“Pretty well,” I replied. “Thistle is moving in with Marcus as soon as the construction on his stable is completed. We’ll all be living with each other for a month or two – which will be a nightmare – but once she’s out, Bay and I will have the guesthouse to ourselves.”
Steve pursed his lips, amused. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll be living on your girlfriend’s family’s property?”
“Should it?”
Steve shrugged and held his hands palms up. “It would bother me. From what you’ve told me, the big house is full of busybodies. What if they … I don’t know … barge into the guesthouse and see you naked?”
It was an interesting question, one I’d considered myself. “They do happen to barge in quite often,” I conceded. “I can live with it. They generally only do it when they’re feeling persnickety.”
“The way you describe it, that’s pretty regularly.”
“I’m fine with it,” I said, rolling my neck. That was mostly true. The older generation of Winchesters could be a righteous pain, but I was willing to put up with almost anything as long as I could share a roof with Bay. “You’re staying at the inn this weekend. You’ll see that they don’t have enough time to focus on the guesthouse. They’ve got plenty of things to keep them busy when it comes to The Overlook.”
Steve snorted, amused. “Yeah. Why did they name it that again?”
The Overlook was the inn Bay’s mother and aunts operated in Hemlock Cove, which happened to boast a huge tourist population. This coming week, the town would also be full of law enforcement officials for a big conference. Everyone wanted an environment that wasn’t too large so we could run a murder-mystery scenario and test a few new gadgets. Hemlock Cove fit the bill, full of inns and good restaurants. Plus, it would keep me close to Bay for days, so I was more than happy to steer the selection committee in that direction when the opportunity arose.
Fine. I’m whipped. I can admit it … to myself, at least.
“The original property has a big bluff, and the house overlooks it,” I answered automatically. I’d heard Bay tell the story so many times I’d lost count. “Bay and her cousins tried explaining about The Shining, but it didn’t change anything. It’s kind of funny, but the tourists seem to love it because they believe they named it that on purpose. Most people forget about the name as soon as they sit down and sample the food.”
“The food is amazing,” Steve agreed, moving away from my desk. “I’m looking forward to dinner there tonight.”
I swallowed hard, surprised. “Tonight? I thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow.”
Steve’s amusement was obvious as he met my conflicted gaze. “Do you have a problem with me arriving tonight?”
Yes! I have a big problem with it. Of course, I can’t admit that. He’s my boss, after all. He’s also allowing me to break a rule and move in with my girlfriend, so I can’t exactly make my disdain regarding his plan known. “No problem,” I replied, hoping I sounded blasé enough. “It’s just … I’m not sure I’ll be at the inn for dinner tonight. Bay might’ve made alternative plans.”
In truth, Bay probably didn’t make alternative plans. We always ate dinner with her family when it was possible because they are amazing cooks. And Bay harbors a lazy streak when it comes to domestic tasks. I’m fine with that, because most days I prefer her attention on me and my needs instead of cooking. Wait … did that sound sexist? That won’t go over well out loud, so I’d better watch myself.
“You don’t have to worry about entertaining me,” Steve said, chuckling. “The place is going to be full of agents and cops. I’m looking forward to meeting new people and eating some of that wonderful food. I don’t expect you to act as my tour guide.”
“You don’t?” I couldn’t help but be dubious. “Good, because I have other plans.”
“I’ll bet those plans are blonde.” Steve shook his head as he smirked. “I don’t care how much time you spend with Bay. Go nuts. You still have to put in app
earances at all of the classes. You know that, right?”
“I do know that.” I had to put in appearances. That didn’t mean I needed to stay for the duration of each class – or even half the duration – before making my escape. I’d already worked it out in my head. “I won’t let you down.”
“Oh, you’re such a lovesick puppy,” Steve taunted, grinning. “If I catch you making out with your girlfriend I’ll embarrass you mercilessly.”
Somehow I figured I could live with that. “I’ll see you at the inn later. I have a few things to finish up here, and then I have to roll over to the apartment and grab a few boxes. I’ve been moving things in shifts.”
“The next few days should be fun,” Steve said. “I can’t wait to see what those feisty women cook up while I’m there.”
I kept my smile in place even as my stomach rolled. Feisty is one way of describing them. Batshit crazy is another. “Be careful what you wish for,” I intoned. “You might be surprised what those women can cook up with minimal effort and one crazy great-aunt to fuel them.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Surprisingly enough, so was I.
I EXPECTED loud voices, even some shouting, when I let myself into the guesthouse two hours later. Instead I found Bay napping on the couch, a blanket tucked around her waist.
Sometimes she looks like an angel. Only when she’s sleeping, though. She has a devilish streak. Thankfully it’s nowhere near as pronounced as the ones her family members have. I carried the boxes I brought into her bedroom and stacked them against the wall before returning to the living room. I found Marcus standing by the kitchen counter.
In addition to being Thistle’s boyfriend, Marcus owns the local stable. He’s a calm guy – he would have to be to put up with Thistle’s mouth – and I enjoy his company. Bay is so close with her cousins Clove and Thistle that it borders on codependency, something else I’ve learned never to mention. I’ve gotten used to it in the time Bay and I have spent together, but it’s still something of a distraction if I’m having a bad day. I was in a good mood, so the Winchester women and the havoc they wreaked when feeling codependent was a far-off worry … for now.
“When did you get here?” Marcus asked, keeping his voice low as he poured a glass of juice from the refrigerator. “I didn’t hear you arrive.”
“Just got here,” I replied, glancing back to the couch and making sure Bay was undisturbed. “I was going to wake her, but there’s no reason to just yet.”
“Yeah, she’s had a long day.”
The way Marcus said the words piqued my suspicion. “What do you mean? Did something happen? Please tell me there are no ghosts or evil spirits running around. That won’t fly with a bunch of cops here the next few days.”
Hemlock Cove had rebranded itself as a paranormal destination several years ago to draw in tourists. Most of the town’s residents are normal people pretending to be witches, warlocks and whatever other freaky thing they can think of that might draw in paranormal enthusiasts. The Winchesters, however, are real witches. They have magical powers and curse one another when the mood strikes. Everyone involved in their world works overtime to protect them. So when Steve initially suggested holding the conference in Hemlock Cove I fought him. Once I resigned myself to it, I recognized the multitude of possibilities the situation presented. I remained mildly nervous, but enthusiastically embraced the selection committee members’ questions when they started asking about Hemlock Cove attractions.
“No ghosts that I’m aware of,” Marcus replied, tucking a strand of his shoulder-length blond hair behind his ear. “It’s been a quiet couple of days.”
“Good.” I shifted my eyes to Bay. She looked peaceful. “Why did she have a long day?”
“Aunt Tillie.”
Ah. I should’ve seen that coming. Tillie Winchester is the matriarch of the Winchester clan. She’s in her eighties and calling her “tempestuous” would be a generous way to describe her. There’s no problem she’s not in the middle of and no family fight she doesn’t enjoy stirring up. “What’d she do now?”
“Just being herself,” Marcus shrugged. “It’s November and the temperature is dropping, so she can’t spend a lot of time outdoors. That means she’s indoors constantly, and … well … you know how that goes.”
“She’s driving everyone crazy,” I surmised, nodding. “That’s hardly out of character.”
“Definitely not,” Marcus agreed. “She’s so bored she’s taken it upon herself to ‘help’ Clove and Thistle at the shop.” He used air quotes around the word “help” and grimaced. “It’s driving Thistle insane.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the mental image. Clove and Thistle own a magic shop on Main Street. Bay works as the editor (and newly christened owner) of Hemlock Cove’s weekly newspaper, The Whistler. It’s a small town, so there was a lot of overlap when it comes to articles and retail work, so Bay often volunteers to help her cousins during busy periods. “What does that have to do with Bay?”
“Thistle got fed up and suggested Aunt Tillie help Bay with this week’s edition of The Whistler,” Marcus explained. “I don’t think it went over very well.”
I cringed as I considered the possibilities. “I’m guessing not,” I said. “Did Bay get the paper out?”
“She did, but there was some fighting at Hypnotic afterward,” Marcus replied.
I arched an eyebrow, surprised. “Bay and Aunt Tillie?”
“There’s no sense fighting with Aunt Tillie, because she always wins,” Marcus said matter of factly. “It was Bay and Thistle. Bay accused Thistle of sending Aunt Tillie after her. Thistle denied it, even though it was obvious to everyone she did. There were some threats regarding dirt and making people eat it. They went outside to get dirt, but the ground is too hard to scoop up without ruining fingernails. You know, normal stuff.”
I barked out a low laugh, frowning when Bay shifted. She was waking up. I had hoped she’d rest a bit longer before dinner. I had big plans for her after, and she’d need her strength.
“Sounds like a normal day,” I said, glancing around. “Where’s Thistle?”
“Napping in the bedroom,” Marcus answered. “Actually, she’s not napping. She’s complaining about Bay accusing her of things she didn’t do – which she did do and won’t admit to. And her mouth is dry. I said I’d get her some juice.”
I grinned. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re a good boyfriend.”
“They’ll be fine once they make up,” Marcus said, waving off my compliment. “I think the idea of everyone’s living arrangements changing is causing a little fur to fly.”
“I thought everyone was excited about the changes?” I’m not insecure, but I’ve noticed the occasional worried look on Bay’s face since we decided to move in together. It makes me nervous. “I thought we agreed this was best for everyone.”
“It’s not that.” Marcus’ gaze was keen, as if reading my mind. “Bay is massively excited about you moving in. Yesterday I heard her wondering if you might want to change around the living room. She sounded a little giddy when she thought about redecorating from scratch. She’s excited.”
I felt marginally better. “So what’s the problem?”
“The distance from one another. They’ve always been together, except for when Bay lived down in the city. I get the feeling that wasn’t a good time in any of their lives. She’s looking forward to living with you, but I think she’ll miss Thistle.”
“C’mon, they fight like crazy,” I said, pointing out the obvious.
“They also love like crazy,” Marcus reminded me. “It’ll be okay. We’ll have a short adjustment period, but look how fast they got used to Clove’s absence. Bay will have her hands full decorating here with you, and Thistle will have her hands full decorating the barn house with me. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re pretty calm considering everything going on,” I noted. “You don’t seem nervous at all.”
“I’m nervous,�
� Marcus countered. “The excitement outweighs it, though. I want to plan my future with Thistle, and this is the first step. On the other hand, Bay and Clove are important to her. It’s a good thing they’re not going anywhere.”
“It is,” I mused, watching as Bay’s fingers twitched. “I like knowing they’re all there for each other. Even though I’ll be living here, that doesn’t mean I won’t be out of town from time to time. I like knowing she won’t ever be alone.”
“None of them will ever be alone,” Marcus pointed out. “The family is growing.”
“The family.” It was weird to say the word, yet I realized that I’d considered the Winchesters – even Aunt Tillie – my family for some time. Moving in with Bay wouldn’t change that. “That’s a nice way of looking at it.”
Marcus smiled as he clapped my shoulder. “I’m going to cajole Thistle out of her bad mood. You might try to do the same with Bay.”
“That’s my plan.”
Marcus snorted. “Are you going to do it with kisses?”
“Whatever it takes.”
“We’ll give you a few minutes alone before coming out,” Marcus offered. “Then we need to head up to the inn. I think they have a big dinner planned.”
“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll see you in ten minutes or so.”
“Good luck with your blonde.”
“Good luck with your … what color is Thistle’s hair today?”
Marcus grinned. “Blue. She was agitated with her mother, and Twila hates it when she dyes her hair blue.”
“Ah, the trials of the Winchester women,” I intoned, my heart filling as Bay lifted her head. “They’re difficult, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
“I’m right there with you.”
Landon Calling: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 1
