A Witch of a Time

by Amanda M. Lee

  “It’s not your fault,” Landon said, brushing a quick kiss against Bay’s forehead. “It was just supposed to be a game. You couldn’t know this was going to happen.”

  “We should have considered it, though,” Thistle admitted.

  “Why do you say that?” Sam asked.

  “This whole area is teeming with spirits,” Thistle said. “We should have given the property a good cleaning before they opened.”

  “A cleaning?” Marcus was confused.

  “It’s a magical rite,” Sam explained. “You just expel bad energy and ward the house from evil spirits.”

  “If that’s possible, wouldn’t you have done it at The Overlook?” Landon asked, his fingers working on Bay’s tense neck as he pressed his body closer to hers. “How could anything evil ever get in there?”

  “We do it at The Overlook twice a year,” Thistle replied. “It wears down after time. With all the magic being thrown around out there, it wears down quicker. This place would be protected for longer.”

  “Because no real magic would occur here?” Marcus asked.

  “Exactly.”

  Landon inhaled heavily. “So, what do we do now? Do we just hope it doesn’t come back?”

  Bay shook her head. “It’s here now,” she said. “We have to find out who it is, and what it wants.”

  “And what will that do?” Landon asked.

  I answered for her. “If we know what it wants, we can figure out how to put it to rest. That’s the only way we can be assured that it won’t come back.”

  Well, so much for a relaxing weekend.

  “WHERE are Bay and Landon?” Jack’s eyes roamed the breakfast table the next morning, landing on two empty seats at the end of the dining room table.

  “They’re sleeping in,” Thistle said, snatching a slice of bacon from Marcus’ plate when he wasn’t looking.

  That wasn’t the truth. They’d gotten up early so they could go to The Whistler and research deaths in the area. As editor of the newspaper, Bay was hopeful they could tie a specific death down to the inn, but Thistle was less enthusiastic about the possibility. The odds were never in our favor when it came to stuff like that.

  Our fathers had no idea a real ghost had visited the séance the previous night. That was the good news. Unfortunately, they also believed we’d purposely gone overboard – accusing us of trying to one-up one another for attention – and they were angry. That was the bad news.

  Jack made a face. “It’s almost nine. Who sleeps in this late?”

  Thistle snorted. “We usually all sleep until noon on the weekends.”

  “Why?” Jack was nonplussed.

  “Because we work hard during the week.”

  “So?”

  “So? So we like to sleep in on the weekends,” Thistle said. “Bay is tired. Landon worked hard this week. They’re sleeping. Leave them alone.”

  “Maybe they’re sick,” Jack mused.

  “They’re not sick,” Thistle said.

  Jack made a move to get up. “Maybe I should check on them.”

  I started to panic. “You’re right. They’re not asleep.”

  Thistle pressed her lips together. I can’t read minds. It’s not one of my gifts. I knew what she was thinking, though. I was going to be eating dirt if she got her hands on me before Marcus had a chance to calm her down.

  “If they’re not asleep, then where are they?” Jack’s gaze was probing.

  I was caught. I was going to have to tell the truth. There was no other choice. Unless … . “They’re having sex.”

  Thistle slapped her forehead. “Ugh.”

  Jack’s face flushed with color, and his voice was unnaturally high when he found it. “What?”

  I have no idea how I always make things worse, but I do. “They’re … having sex,” I said.

  “Oh, good, say it again,” Thistle muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “I heard you the first time,” Jack said, his jaw clenched. “Why did you say it?”

  A glance around the table told me everyone else was enjoying the show. It was kind of like having breakfast at The Overlook, only Aunt Tillie wasn’t there to detonate a nuclear warhead. I kind of missed her. This was about the time she would have taken the onus of the conversation off of me.

  “I … I … I … .”

  “She said it because she’s covering for Bay,” Thistle interjected, scowling in my direction. “She’s doing it in the worst way possible, but her heart is in the right place.”

  Jack shifted, focusing on Thistle. “Why is she covering for Bay?”

  Thistle squared her shoulders. “Because Bay had to go back to The Overlook for breakfast this morning. We’re taking turns putting in appearances.”

  I had no idea where she was going with this. I was thankful for her interference, though.

  “Why do you have to put in appearances?” Teddy asked.

  “Why do you think?” Thistle asked. “If we don’t, they’ll get suspicious, and if they get suspicious … .” Thistle left the unsaid threat hanging in the air.

  “Aunt Tillie,” Dad said.

  “Who is Aunt Tillie?” Clara asked.

  “She’s just … the girls’ elderly aunt,” Dad said. “She’s … .”

  “Deranged,” Teddy muttered.

  “Psychotic,” Jack added under his breath.

  “Easily confused,” Dad finished. “If she doesn’t see the girls on a regular basis, she gets confused.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Clara said. “Is she … addled?”

  “She’s just … easily distracted,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. Good, she wasn’t there … not that I thought she would be. What? I’m not scared of her. Okay, I’m terrified. She has ears like a cat and the personality of a ticked-off badger.

  “Well, it’s nice that you girls take such good care of her,” Clara said.

  “Yes, well, we love our Aunt Tillie,” I said.

  “We love her to … death,” Thistle said.

  “You’ll miss her when she’s gone,” Clara said sagely. “It’s so nice you spend so much time with her. Someday, when she passes on, you’ll be happy you did this.”

  Thistle’s face was bland. “Oh, she’ll never die.”

  “Of course,” Clara said, instantly apologetic. “I didn’t mean to upset you. She’ll always live on in your hearts.”

  “I’m not upset,” Thistle said. “She’ll just never die. Evil never dies.”

  Clara swallowed hard, staring down at her plate as confusion washed over her. “Oh … um … .”

  Well, there’s nothing like a pall over breakfast to fire everyone up for a fun day.

  Four

  “Have you ever seen anything this stupid in your entire life?”

  Thistle was at her wit’s end, and I didn’t blame her. I scanned the back lawn of the Dragonfly, unsure of what I was seeing. “It looks … kind of fun.”

  “They’re playing croquet,” Thistle pointed out, sipping from her drink and making a face. “This is awful. We need to make some chocolate martinis.”

  “It’s not even noon,” Marcus said. “I can’t believe you’re drinking.”

  “If I have to watch croquet, then I’m drinking,” Thistle said, her face grim.

  “But it’s … themed croquet,” I said. I really am a glass-half-full person. I can’t help it. I want to see the best in people – and the things they try to accomplish.

  “Yeah, but the course is decorated like a cemetery,” Thistle said. “It’s maudlin.”

  “It’s perfect for a magically themed town,” I countered. “It’s kind of cute. I like the little tombstones – and that mausoleum is adorable. Oh, and look at the gargoyles.”

  “It’s croquet, though,” Thistle said. “Who wants to play croquet?”

  I pointed to the handful of people on the lawn. “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

  “Speaking of a good time,” Thistle said, gesturing to the hammock
at the edge of the lawn. “Have you talked to Bay since she got back?”

  I followed Thistle’s eyes, my gaze landing on my blonde cousin as she cuddled with Landon on the hammock. They were looking at an iPad, Bay’s head resting on his chest as they focused on their task. They looked like they were having a good time, Landon’s hands wandering beneath Bay’s shirt when he thought no one was looking.

  Unfortunately, Jack was watching – and he obviously didn’t like what he was seeing.

  “That is inappropriate,” he said.

  “Jack, she’s an adult,” Dad said. “They’re not really doing anything.”

  “He’s … where do you think he keeps putting his hand?”

  “Where did you put your hands when you and Winnie made her?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, Uncle Jack,” Thistle teased, sticking out her tongue. “Was Bay born to Aunt Winnie when she was a virgin?”

  Jack snatched her drink from her hand. “How many of these have you had?”

  “Two.”

  “Well … you’re cut off,” Jack said. “You’re not old enough to be drinking anyway.”

  Thistle made a face. “I’m only a year younger than Bay.”

  “I know.”

  “Bay has been old enough to drink for almost seven years.”

  “I know.”

  “She’s old enough to have sex,” Thistle charged on.

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t,” Jack protested.

  “Landon is a good guy,” I said, trying to ease the tension. “He makes Bay really happy. They’re just … having fun.”

  “They’re not bothering anyone, Jack,” Teddy said.

  “Are you saying you’d be okay if that was Thistle and Marcus?” Jack shot back.

  “Of course I would. It’s a natural part of … Thistle doesn’t do that,” Teddy said, changing course mid-comment.

  “Yeah, she’s a virgin,” Jack said. “That’s why that blond dude has his hand on her rear end all the time.”

  Teddy made a face. “He does not. Thistle is a good girl.”

  Uh-oh, those were fighting words.

  “And Bay isn’t?”

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t,” Teddy said.

  “You just said she wasn’t,” Jack protested.

  “Well, she’s the one over there with that guy’s hand up her shirt,” Teddy shot back.

  “He’s just helping her with her … .”

  “Bra?” Thistle supplied helpfully.

  “Shut up, Thistle,” Jack snapped.

  Sam leaned in behind me. “Aren’t you glad they’re not focused on us?”

  Part of me was. The other part wished we were the ones groping on the hammock. I just wasn’t that brave. “I wish they would chill out,” I said. “They’re acting like we’re teenagers and they have some say over what we do.”

  Sam searched my face with a questioning look. “They’re acting like fathers.”

  “I wouldn’t know what that’s like,” I said, moving away from him and heading in Bay’s direction. I was loath to interrupt them, but I needed some air – and that was saying something since we were outside.

  Landon’s mouth was pressed to Bay’s when my shadow covered them. “Did you find anything?”

  Landon groaned, reluctantly pulling away at the sound of my voice. “Why did you come over here?”

  “I … I haven’t seen you since this morning,” I said, inhaling deeply. “I wanted to see if you found something out.”

  “We’re still looking,” Bay said.

  “From the hammock?”

  Bay pointed to the iPad. “Landon is running files from the FBI database.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I … I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

  “It’s too late for that now,” Landon said, his tone clipped.

  “It’s just … our dads are over there fighting,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because Landon keeps sticking his hand up your shirt,” I replied. I never know when to keep my mouth shut. I want to – I swear – but I just can’t.

  Bay’s cheeks colored. “Oh. They saw that?”

  “You guys are out in the open.”

  “So what?” Landon obviously didn’t care, because he yanked Bay back down to his chest when she tried to pull away. “We’re not doing anything. This is our weekend. I didn’t want to come here in the first place. If they don’t like it, then I don’t really care.”

  “They’re still our fathers,” I said, although I had no idea why I was taking up their end of this argument.

  “So what?” Landon said again. “We’re adults. We do what adults do. If they have a problem with it, send Jack over here and we’ll have a talk.”

  “Landon, you can’t do that in front of their guests,” Bay said, her face conflicted.

  “I don’t like the way he looks at me,” Landon said.

  “How does he look at you?”

  “Like I’m corrupting a minor.”

  I couldn’t hide the smile playing at the corner of my lips. “To him, Bay is still a child.”

  “Yeah? Well, she’s not my child,” Landon said, tickling her ribs and causing her to giggle. “If he doesn’t like it, tell him to come over here and tell us. Then we’ll go. I’d much rather return to the guesthouse and … play … there all weekend. At least we would have it to ourselves.”

  “What about the … ghost?” I said, lowering my voice.

  “I don’t care about the ghost,” Landon said. “Quite frankly, I’d rather have Bay away from this place if something terrible is about to happen. I’m surprised that Sam doesn’t feel the same way about you.”

  His words were pointed … and hurtful.

  “I do feel the same way.” I hadn’t realized Sam was behind me. Landon had, though. That’s why he said what he said.

  Landon pursed his lips but remained silent.

  “I know you don’t like me,” Sam said, taking my hand in his. “I understand why you don’t like me. I’m here to stay, though, and I don’t like you talking to Clove that way.”

  My heart soared at his words, and then plummeted when Landon fixed Sam with a murderous look.

  “I happen to care about Clove a great deal,” Landon said. “Bay loves her like a sister, and I’m pretty fond of her, too.”

  “Then why are you attacking me?” Sam asked.

  “Because I don’t think you’re good enough for her.” Landon’s words were succinct – and brutal.

  “Landon.” Bay’s voice was low, her gaze worried. “I don’t think now is the time.”

  Landon rubbed the back of her head. “Clove is an adult,” he said. “I’m not going to tell her what to do.”

  “Well, thanks for that … I guess,” Sam said, his hand tightening around mine.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and idly watch you hurt her,” Landon continued.

  “I notice you don’t have the same problem with Marcus,” Sam pointed out.

  “Marcus didn’t lie to get close to the family,” Landon replied.

  “I didn’t lie,” Sam protested. “I kept my mother’s witch side to myself. How is that any different from what they do?”

  “They didn’t seek you out and try to get close to you,” Landon said, unruffled. “They keep to themselves.”

  “I keep to myself,” Sam said. “If you want me to apologize for trying to investigate them before making my past known, then I will. I’m sorry. That doesn’t mean I regret coming here, and it certainly doesn’t mean I regret having a relationship with Clove.”

  I was moved by his words. Landon? Not so much.

  “I’m watching you,” Landon said, returning his attention to the iPad and Bay. “If you hurt her, you’ll be sorry.”

  Despite myself, Landon’s words warmed me. It was nice that he cared – even if he was hurting Sam in the process.

  “WHERE is everyone?” Bay asked, joining Sam and me in the foyer. It was after lunch, and an afternoon excursion had left t
he inn empty – except for a few brave souls who had remained behind. Most of them were related to me.

  “They went on a tour of the town,” I said. “Dad thought that showing them everything was a good way to prove how entertaining a stay at the inn would be.”

  Bay’s face was unreadable as she slipped behind the bar and studied the offerings. “This is all … blah.”

  “Thistle picked up stuff to make chocolate martinis,” I said. “It’s in the bag behind the counter.”

  Bay retrieved the bag in question and then returned to the bar. “At least she was thinking ahead.”

  “I think we’re just spoiled,” I said, my gaze bouncing between Bay and Sam at regular intervals. No one had spoken to one another since the hammock incident, and I wasn’t sure if I was thankful for that or not. “Where is Landon?”

  “He’s upstairs on the laptop,” Bay said.

  “Did he find something?” I leaned forward, intrigued.

  “We found one thing,” Bay said. “There was an odd death out here in the seventies.”

  I waited.

  Bay sighed. “The Dragonfly was a premier inn around these parts for decades,” she said. “It went by a different name, but it was popular. They had a lot of guests stay here. That’s when the economy was good, before the industrial base died away. The skiing was always a draw.

  “In 1975, Marian Lecter visited the Dragonfly with her husband and two children,” Bay continued. “They all had a nice dinner together, and then everyone went to bed. Witnesses say that Marian and her husband Will seemed happy. There were no outwards signs of … distress.

  “Sometime in the night, Marian left the bedroom and disappeared,” Bay said. “Will claimed he was asleep, and he had no idea his wife was even gone. When he woke up in the morning, he sounded the alarm.

  “Marian’s body was found about two hundred yards behind the inn,” Bay continued. “It was hidden under heavy brush. The police were called, and they were searching, but it was Will Lecter who found the body.”

  “Which tipped the cops off,” Sam said. “Did he kill her?”

  Bay shrugged. “The autopsy said that Marian Lecter was strangled. There was no sign of sexual assault, but her underwear was missing. Will Lecter was convicted of the crime, and he spent thirty years in prison before he died.”