“The best part,” I continued. “Was hearing about how you took a job for a rival mobster and used their house as a drug den.”
“That’s terrible,” Twila mused. “Those poor people.”
“They were the money launderers,” I corrected Twila. “It’s not like they were innocent.”
“They weren’t bad people, though,” Twila said.
“I guess it depends on what your definition of bad is,” Clove said. For her part, her eyes were settled on Trevor, but they were clouded with tears. She really was a magnet for assholes.
“They certainly aren’t as bad as their rotten grandson,” I agreed.
“Oh, that hurts,” Trevor said with faux indignation. “Did they tell you they stole my stash?”
Trevor’s hand slipped from Aunt Tillie’s mouth. “My nieces steal my stash all the time,” she said. “You just have to get over it. Some people don’t understand the sanctity of a woman’s pot stash.”
“You have a whole field,” Clove whined. “And I only did it once.”
“You only got caught once,” Aunt Tillie countered. “There’s a big difference.”
“Yeah, we know you were taking walks this fall that often ended up in her field,” I said with forced joviality.
“I knew it,” Aunt Tillie muttered. “Didn’t I tell you I knew it was her?”
“You said you thought it was Thistle,” my mom reminded her. If she found the conversation mundane in the face of terror, she didn’t let on. She was letting us lead.
“No, I said I thought it was Clove,” Aunt Tillie said. She exchanged a glance with Thistle, although I couldn’t read it. I didn’t think it was good, though.
“You thought it was Thistle,” Marnie interjected. It almost looked as if she was enjoying the game.
“That’s a bald-faced lie,” Aunt Tillie said.
I watched, curiously, as she shifted in Trevor’s grasp. “I need to sit down.”
“What?” Trevor looked frustrated.
“I’m old, I need to sit down,” Aunt Tillie said. “My knees are giving out.”
“Just deal with it,” Trevor shook her, trying to haul her back to her feet.
“It’s going to be hard to hold me up and take all of them on,” Aunt Tillie said helpfully.
Trevor considered her statement for a second. He must have realized the truth behind it, because he let her go and pushed her towards us. Clove stepped forward to catch her, absorbing Aunt Tillie’s dead weight as she fell forward.
Thistle and I remained standing, three feet apart from each other, neither making a move to help Clove with Aunt Tillie. Trevor noticed our stalwart stances and narrowed his eyes at us suspiciously.
“If she’s such an old woman, why didn’t you help her?”
“Clove had it under control,” Thistle said calmly.
Trevor fingered the end of the knife thoughtfully. “What else did my grandparents tell you? Did they tell you where they were going?”
“Someplace warm,” I replied. “I think there was talk of beaches and little drinks with umbrellas in them.”
“And where are they now?”
“On the boat,” Aunt Tillie said. “They’re not leaving. Why don’t you go spend some quality family time together?”
Trevor smirked. What could have once been described as a handsome feature now looked sinister. “Like I’m going to fall for that. They’ve left already, haven’t they?”
“Oh, they haven’t left,” Aunt Tillie said knowingly. “I can pretty much guarantee that.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“Just call it women’s intuition,” Aunt Tillie said smugly.
Trevor glanced at Aunt Tillie curiously. “You’re an interesting old bat, aren’t you?”
“Who are you calling old?” Aunt Tillie was incensed.
“You just called yourself old.” Trevor shot back.
“I did not,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “That’s just a horrible thing to say. And to lie and say I would actually call myself old. That’s just unforgiveable.”
“You did, too,” Trevor was getting visibly frustrated now. “They all heard you.”
“I didn’t hear her,” I replied calmly.
“Neither did I,” Thistle interjected. “I just don’t think he appreciates a woman with wisdom on her side.”
“That’s just terrible,” I clucked. “Just terrible.”
Clove was back on her feet. She could sense something was about to happen. She just didn’t know what.
“Are you going to stand for that, Aunt Tillie?” Thistle asked her pointedly.
Aunt Tillie met Thistle’s challenging gaze. “What do you think?”
Thistle turned to Trevor, an evil smirk on her face. “I think Trevor’s going to wish he’d never met us.”
“I think he’s going to wish he’d never stayed at our inn,” I agreed.
“I think he’s going to wish he’d never flirted with me,” Clove announced boldly.
Aunt Tillie slowly got to her feet, fire in her eyes, her hands still at her side. “I think all those things are a realistic possibility,” she said.
“I’m the one in charge here,” Trevor said angrily, worry on his face. “I’m the one with the knife.”
“We don’t need a knife,” I said calmly.
“I call the winds of the north,” Clove sang out from the far left, reaching her hand out to grasp Aunt Tillie’s waiting hand. “Let’s show Trevor here what he’s worth.”
“I call to the magic of the east,” Thistle chanted from my right, reaching her left hand out to grasp my right hand. “This will let us punish this beast.”
I gripped Thistle’s hand harshly. “I call to the wardens of the west,” I started. “For they always find what’s best.”
“What is this?” Trevor looked baffled. “Are you chanting? What are you guys? Witches?”
I felt my hand slip into Aunt Tillie’s, unsure how this would end and curious at the same time.
“And I call on the power of the south,” Aunt Tillie said, her eyes gleaming with rage. “Let’s show this lout how to close his big mouth.”
It wasn’t our best rhyme, to be sure, but it was effective.
Nothing happened right away, and Trevor looked triumphant in the moment. Then the power surged.
“So mote it be.”
I didn’t have to look behind me to know that my mom and aunts had joined hands behind us, pushing their power into our spell to tip it over the edge.
The energy in the room exploded, at this point. There was another force here now, and it was bearing down on Trevor.
I don’t know what he saw with that first glimpse. The fear that washed over his face was more than enough to tell me not to look behind me, though.
There was a sudden roar and the wind spell that we had conjured moved through us with such force it threatened to wrench my arm from Aunt Tillie’s grasp. I didn’t let it, though. I knew that our joined hands were driving the spell.
I risked a glance to my left and saw the terrible air monster move forward. The wind was whipping through the room, driving my hair in front of my eyes. For a second, though, just a second, I recognized the figure in the wind – or at least I thought I did. I didn’t have time to focus on that, though, because our spell was descending on Trevor – who was making a mad dash to try and flee from the room.
The wind monster reached out – yes, it had arms and I had no idea where they had come from – and the ethereal fingers of death now had a hold of Trevor. Trevor tried to stab the monster, but it was in vain. You can’t stab the wind.
Trevor’s screams were more pitiful than anything else as the wind monster engulfed him. “Help! Please, God, help me!”
“There’s no help for you here, Trevor,” Aunt Tillie said coldly. “I’m the god here, and I want you out of my house!”
Trevor screamed again. I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t want to. The mewling sounds now emitting from his ravaged throat we
re enough for me to know that his face would be worse. However bad he was, however terrible he was, I didn’t want to see this. I couldn’t look away, though, either.
“Holy shit!”
We hadn’t heard the office door open. I swung in surprise when I heard the new voice and met Landon’s stunned gaze from across the room. Instinctively, I let go of Aunt Tillie’s hand. Thistle and Clove did the same.
The wind monster dissipated as quickly as he had formed. Within seconds, the room was empty, and Trevor was unconscious on the floor.
Landon stepped into the room, weapon drawn. He kicked Trevor with his foot and then turned to us anxiously.
“Is he dead?”
“No,” Aunt Tillie said fitfully. “He just wishes he was.”
Landon turned to me, sweat washing down his face. His eyes were flashing in recognition and intensity. I don’t know what I expected: Questions, recriminations, outright denial? What Landon said, though, it’s something I’ll never forget.
“Good job, ladies. Good job.”
Thirty-Six
Chief Terry didn’t say anything when he entered the room. His face was as white as the snow outside, though, and I was worried he was actually going to pass out. Instead, he hauled his tall frame over to Trevor on the floor, knelt, and efficiently slapped a pair of handcuffs on him and stood back up.
“We can’t read him his rights until he comes to,” he grunted.
Landon was still standing next to him. The only movement he hinted at, though, was a hand through his long black hair and an occasional glance in Chief Terry’s direction. Otherwise, he was frozen in his place. I felt the urge to go to him, but I kept a safe distance instead. I didn’t want to push him.
Chief Terry finally could find no further reason to fuss over Trevor on the floor. He stood up, smoothed his sheriff’s department issued coat down in front of him, and then turned to everyone in the room. He calmly pulled his notebook out of his pocket and raised his eyes, searching through every face assembled, before landing on mine.
“Okay,” he said haltingly. “What happened here?”
Clove and Thistle both tilted their heads in my direction. They wanted to hear how I would answer. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to explain the ending, so I started at the beginning.
I told them about Lillian and Byron Hobbes and how we found them on their boat.
“I told you to stay at Hypnotic,” Landon grumbled.
“I left you a note,” I replied defensively.
“Well, that must make it okay then,” Landon shot back. He still wasn’t making eye contact.
“Where are they now?” Chief Terry interrupted.
“They’re still on the boat,” I said.
“How can you be sure?”
I glanced down at Aunt Tillie, who was lazing comfortably on the couch and watching the scene unfold, and merely shook my head. “I’m fairly certain they’ll still be there.”
Chief Terry regarded Aunt Tillie for a second, took in her smug and relaxed face, and merely grunted. In other words: He didn’t want to know how we knew that Byron and Lillian would still be on the boat.
I then recounted how we got out to the inn. Landon made a motion like he wanted to interrupt me, but he must have thought better of it because he quickly stilled.
“So, let me get this straight,” Chief Terry said hollowly. “Instead of calling the police, you decided to take on a crazed drug runner on your own.”
“I called Landon,” I corrected him. “I didn’t feel we could wait, though. It was my decision.”
“We all agreed,” Thistle interjected tersely. “You’re not taking this all on yourself,” she muttered.
“No, she’s not,” Chief Terry agreed. “Besides,” he slid a look at Aunt Tillie. “I have a feeling, even if she had thought better of coming out here, someone else would have.”
He knew our family too well.
“What happened next?”
“We originally were going to split up, with two of us going in through the back and two of us going in through the front,” I started, shifting a telling gaze towards Aunt Tillie. “That didn’t exactly work out, though.”
“Why not?” Landon asked. He met my gaze for the first time, although I couldn’t recognize the emotions bubbling under his ragged surface. He was being a federal agent now, nothing more.
I pursed my lips, considering how to answer the question.
“Because Aunt Tillie snuck in the house while we were still deciding,” Clove blurted out.
If I’m ever taken hostage and tortured for information, I don’t want Clove with me. I’m just saying.
“Why did you do that?” Landon directed the question to Aunt Tillie.
“My girls were in trouble,” she said sullenly. “I had to save the day.”
“And what about the girls you had with you outside?” Landon pressed.
“They didn’t have to follow me,” Aunt Tillie said. “I had things under control without them.”
“So, you just thought they would leave you to hunt a mad man on your own?” Landon looked dubious.
“No,” Aunt Tillie said honestly. “I knew they would come. It’s what we do.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Landon said dryly.
“What happened then?” Chief Terry asked.
“We searched the house and found everyone in here,” I finished up simply.
Chief Terry looked like he wanted to stop, but he didn’t. “And how did you disarm the suspect?”
And there it was. The question. The question I didn’t know how to answer. The question I didn’t want to answer. The question they – clearly – didn’t want the answer to.
“We . . .”
“We rushed him,” Thistle interjected quickly. “Clove, Bay and I all ran at him the same time. We kicked and hit him until he dropped the knife and passed out. That’s when you came in.”
My heart was hammering in my chest and my blood was roaring in my ears. Thistle had just lied to a cop and a federal agent. This wasn’t going to be good.
Chief Terry swallowed hard and then turned to Landon. “They got lucky,” he said carefully. “If the three of them hadn’t done it together, he might have hurt one of them.”
I watched Landon to see how he would react and I was surprised to see the small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “They did,” Landon said. “I still think they should probably get a proper reprimand about handling situations like this on their own, but I’m not sure what else could have been done in this particular situation.”
The relief washed over me and I practically sagged to the floor. I took a hesitant step towards Landon, but my mom and aunts were herding towards Chief Terry en masse, forcing me to take a step back instead as they rushed to his side.
“We were so scared,” Twila said, throwing her arms around Chief Terry’s neck. “You have no idea.”
“It was terrible,” Marnie agreed, hooking her arm through one of Chief Terry’s. “We were terrified. All I could think of was that I might never see you again.”
My mom and aunts had been engaged in a battle for Chief Terry’s affections for as long as I could remember. He basked under their attention – and continuous food offerings. They were clearly doing their best now to make sure he realized he had made the right decision by accepting Thistle’s lie.
“I would never let anything happen to you,” Chief Terry said soothingly, making room for my mom to join the fray. His gaze focused on me and darkened slightly. “Any of you, no matter how stupid you are sometimes.”
“Who are you calling stupid?” Aunt Tillie huffed.
“Shut up,” Thistle pinched her quickly. “Just shut up for once.”
Landon moved over to me and pulled me close for a brief hug. I was relieved that he didn’t seem to be pulling away, but he wasn’t quite himself either. “I don’t know what happened here,” he whispered in my ear. “But you’re going to tell me everything this time.”
Landon
waited for my response. Never moving his arms from my waist, but never completely embracing me either. I made my decision.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
Landon tightened his arms around me in relief. “Whatever it is, it’s going to involve you and me alone – with none of these crazy people within five miles of us.”
Well, it was a start. I nodded in agreement.
“I told you that he would be back,” Aunt Tillie said, shifting a gaze towards Thistle.
Thistle rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly. “Yes, you know all and see all.”
“And remember all,” Aunt Tillie said ominously. “Don’t you think for a second I will forget that you just pinched me either.”
“Crap,” Thistle whined. “Why is it always me?”
Thirty-Seven
The next few days were relatively carefree – at least for the Winchester witches. Landon and I had our first official date, which resulted in his first official sleepover. No one said much about it, even though Twila had been at the gatehouse the next morning when we walked out of the bedroom. Her eyes had widened, though, and Thistle had clamped one hand over her mouth firmly and shook her head. I knew my mom, Marnie and Aunt Tillie knew, too. For the first time in – well, ever – I didn’t care what they thought. That, of course, would probably change in the near future – but, for now, I was content.
More surprising than that, though, was the fact that I had told Landon everything. I had told him about the wind monster we had conjured and how, at that last second when it passed us, I could have sworn it looked back at me with my Uncle Calvin’s eyes. I only knew those eyes from pictures, so I couldn’t be sure. I hadn’t pressed Aunt Tillie on that – yet. It was coming at some point.
Landon had taken the information better than I expected. Instead of freaking out, he just asked more questions: Questions about our family, questions about our history., questions about our legacy. He seemed interested more than anything else. There was no fear in the queries, only curiosity. I felt relieved by the realization that he wasn’t going to run this time. I didn’t want to push him too far, though. At least not right away.
On the fourth night after our adventure, Landon had returned home to get more clothes and spend some time with his brother. He said he would be back tomorrow – and I found I was looking forward to it. Things were in a comfortable place for us right now, and I didn’t think I could ask for much more than that.
Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) Page 23
