A Witch of a Time

by Amanda M. Lee

  Winnie finally nodded. “Fine. I get to pick the restaurant, though.”

  “I can live with that,” I said.

  Sensing the crisis had passed, Marnie and Twila returned to their breakfast preparations. After a few moments, Twila left the kitchen and moved into the back of the house. When she returned a few minutes later, she had a puzzled look on her face. “Aunt Tillie isn’t in her room.”

  “She’s in the woods,” Thistle said. “She’s the one who woke us up.”

  “But what about breakfast?” Marnie asked.

  “She said she already ate,” Clove said.

  Twila didn’t look convinced.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her.

  “I guess nothing,” Twila said. “I was worried she was missing because of the ghost on the back porch.”

  Seven

  “What ghost?” I asked, instantly alert.

  “There’s a ghost on the back porch,” Twila said.

  “Who?” Bay asked. “Did you recognize her?”

  “The sun is so bright back there,” Twila said, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “I didn’t get a good look.”

  “She means she was afraid to look,” Thistle said, pushing away from the counter and heading for the door. “She’s afraid of ghosts.”

  “I am not afraid of ghosts,” Twila said. “I just think they’re … freaky. I’m glad I only see them on rare occasions.”

  “That’s the same as being afraid,” Thistle said. “Come on. I’ll bet it’s Peg Mulder.”

  I followed the line of excited witches – and a mostly “meh” Marcus and Sam – until we stood by the big bay windows at the back of the living quarters. The porch looked empty to me. Of course, I’d seen only one ghost in my life – and that was because Bay’s life had been in danger. I wasn’t really expecting to see another one now. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s a ghost out there,” Bay said. “It looks like the photo of Peg Mulder, but Twila is right about her being … blurry.”

  “Blurry?” That didn’t sound good.

  “Blurry isn’t the right word,” Bay said, her face thoughtful as she stared out the window. “She’s … brighter … than a normal ghost.”

  “That must be because we pulled her over from the other side,” Thistle said. “That could explain why she looks different.”

  “Does that mean she’s an angel?” Marcus asked, awed.

  I wanted to laugh at the question, but given the surreal nature of the conversation, that didn’t seem wise. Besides … . “Is that a possibility?”

  “Are you asking me to comment on the nature of life and death?” Bay asked. “If you are, I don’t have any answers for you. I don’t know what happens when you cross over.”

  “I’ll bet the woman on the porch does,” I suggested.

  Bay worried her bottom lip with her teeth, conflicted. “We called her here to ask how she died,” she said. “We now know she really is dead. I don’t feel comfortable asking about … other things.”

  Sometimes I forget how sensitive she is. I brushed Bay’s hair, smoothing it. “You don’t have to ask her anything you’re not comfortable with,” I said. “Just ask her whether she knows how she died and … well … where her body is.”

  Bay nodded, her face lightening considerably. “Okay.”

  “Screw that,” Thistle said, pushing between us. “I want to know what’s on the other side. Let’s go.”

  “YOU don’t have to hide,” Bay said, peering around the tree on the corner of the lot worriedly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

  It turns out Peg Mulder hadn’t been waiting for us on the back porch. In fact, when we all slipped outside of the inn, she’d run. Wait, do ghosts run? She probably floated. That sounds more likely.

  After ten minutes, Winnie, Marnie and Twila excused themselves to serve breakfast to the inn guests. I knew they were eating all my bacon.

  “Why don’t you guys go inside and have breakfast,” Bay suggested. “This might take a little time.”

  My stomach agreed with her. My heart put up a fantastic fight. “No,” I said. “I’m staying with you. The rest of you can go inside.”

  Bay’s face was conflicted. “You’re starving. What about your bacon?”

  “I’d rather have you than the bacon,” I replied. “I’m not leaving you alone with an unknown entity – even if I can’t see it.”

  “She’s not Floyd,” Bay said, referring to a nasty poltergeist from a few months before. “She won’t hurt me.”

  “She won’t,” I agreed. “I’m still staying here.”

  “Make sure you ask her about the other side,” Thistle instructed, letting Marcus drag her toward the door. “I need to know what’s out there.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said. “You’re going to go to the bad place.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to say,” Thistle snapped.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have Aunt Tillie for company.” I shot her a cheeky smile. “Save me some bacon.”

  “I’m eating it all now because you made that little comment,” Thistle replied. “Every last slice.”

  “Enjoy your major coronary,” I said.

  Thistle extended her tongue and blew an inelegant raspberry before disappearing with Marcus, Sam and Clove. When they were gone, I turned back to Bay. “We’re going to have to go to town for breakfast. I feel cheated.”

  “Go eat,” Bay said. “It’s right inside. There’s no reason to suffer.”

  “Come with me,” I said, knowing what her answer would be.

  “I can’t just leave her,” Bay said. “We’re the reason she’s here. We’re the reason she’s so unsettled. We’re the reason she’s so … traumatized.”

  My heart rolled. She was so earnest sometimes. “Then we’re staying here together,” I said. “I can wait until we go into town. I’m not going to die of starvation.” My stomach growled a complaint, but I was far enough from Bay she didn’t hear it. “Maybe we should sit still and let her come to us. Isn’t that what you do when you find a stray animal?”

  “She’s not a dog,” Bay said.

  “I didn’t say she was,” I replied, grabbing a lawn chair and turning it so it faced the tree. I did the same with another and then settled into the first one. “I think you following her around the tree like you’re playing a really creepy game of tag isn’t the way to go.”

  Bay made a face but she reluctantly left Peg to … whatever it was she was doing … and joined me. I reached over and grabbed her hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles as she studied something only she could see.

  I often wondered what it was like to be her. I’m not interested in the petty cousin business, or the co-dependent family spats, or even the highs and lows of running a weekly newspaper. Seeing ghosts, though, that was something I couldn’t wrap my mind around. Sure, I’d seen one myself, but I’d been so worried about Bay at the time I couldn’t think about it. Now, when I look back, it was one of those fuzzy memories wrapped around a traumatic event. The traumatic event – almost losing Bay – got top billing.

  “What are you thinking?” I finally broke the silence, mostly because Bay’s expression tugged at my heart. She looked worried.

  “What if we can’t get her back?”

  “What?”

  “What if we can’t get her back?” Bay turned to me. “What if we ripped her out of a happy place? What if … ?”

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, gripping her hand tighter. “We’ll get her back.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you don’t fail,” I said simply. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t tie yourself into knots about something that we haven’t even tried yet. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.”

  “I’m not tying myself into knots.”

  I smirked. “You’re a worrier,” I said. “It’s in your nature. I think it’s because you’re the oldest.”

  “I’m an only child
,” Bay reminded me.

  “You may have been born an only child, but you grew up to be the big sister,” I said. “You’re as close – closer maybe – to Thistle and Clove as any siblings. Don’t deny it.”

  “I love them,” Bay said. “I would never deny it.”

  “But?”

  “But sometimes I want to gag them both and lock them in their rooms.”

  I brought her hand up to my mouth and brushed a light kiss against her palm. “That’s also part of being the big sister.”

  “Do you feel that way about your brothers?”

  “I love my brothers,” I said. “I also think it’s best we only spend a limited amount of time together. If we spend too much time together, I want to wrestle them down and give them wedgies. That’s probably why you, Clove and Thistle are always arguing.”

  “I thought you said that was estrogen?”

  I was still debating that point. “Maybe it’s both.”

  Bay’s face split with a wide grin, and even with her morning-tousled hair, she was utterly charming to look at. “Thistle was right. You can’t be wrong.”

  Her charm comes and goes. “It’s not that I can’t be wrong,” I said. “I’m rarely wrong.”

  “I stand corrected.”

  I leaned forward and brushed her hair out of her face with my free hand. “Are you excited to come and stay with me this week?”

  “I honestly didn’t think you would agree when I suggested it,” she said. “You surprised me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you always come here,” Bay said, shrugging. “I thought you liked your own personal space.”

  “You’ve been to my apartment before,” I reminded her. “You’ve spent the night.”

  “Yeah, but … .”

  I waited.

  “Aren’t you worried that I’m going to infringe on your bachelor pad?”

  I swear, it’s never what you think it is when you’re dealing with women. “My bachelor pad? Sweetie, that place is just an apartment to me. It’s not a home. It’s two bedrooms and some particleboard furniture. I don’t even have matching plates.”

  “Is that why you always want to spend the weekends here?”

  “This place is a home, Bay,” I said. “The guesthouse is small and loud, but it’s comfortable. The inn is big and homey. You guys fight, but you love, too. This place is more fun.”

  “I don’t have to go with you,” Bay said. “I … if you’d rather come back here next weekend, I’m fine with that.”

  “We’re coming back here for the weekend,” I replied, matter-of-fact. “We’re still spending the week together at my apartment. We’ll just have to go out to dinner every night, because neither one of us can cook.”

  “I told you I can cook,” Bay said, pouting.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “There are some nice restaurants on the water. I’ll take you to a few of those … plus whatever restaurant your mother wants to go to. Besides that, my boss has been making noise about meeting you. This will be a good way to get it over with.”

  “Your boss wants to meet me?” Bay looked surprised. “How does he even know about me?”

  “He knows I come here every weekend,” I said. “There’s also a photo of us on my desk.”

  Bay’s cheeks colored. “There is?”

  “Good grief, woman,” I said. “You’re like an insecure teenager sometimes. Of course there’s a photo of us on my desk. I like to look at you. You have a photo of us on your desk, too. I’ve seen it.”

  “That’s different,” Bay said, ever pragmatic. “I’m a girl. That’s what girls do.”

  “I guess I’m a girl then,” I said, nonplussed. “Let it go.”

  Bay pursed her lips, shooting a look in my direction out of the corner of her eye. I could feel her internally mocking me.

  “I know what you’re doing,” I said. “You’re being all … girly.”

  “I am not,” Bay said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just … .”

  The sound of gunfire cut off the rest of her sentence and shattered the morning serenity. I jumped to my feet, scanning the woods for a sense of direction. Another shot exploded, and I instinctively reached for Bay so I could shelter her with my body. She fought my attempts.

  “No one is shooting at us,” she said, slapping my hand away. “The shots are too far away.”

  “Can you tell where they’re coming from?”

  Bay tilted her head to the side, listening. When another shot rang out, she pointed. “It’s the bluff.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Stay here,” I ordered. “If I don’t come back in twenty minutes, call Chief Terry and have him bring some armed deputies.”

  “You’re not armed,” Bay said, irritated. “You can’t follow the sound of gunfire without a weapon of your own. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I promise. I have to go and see what that is. You know that.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “You are not,” I said, emphatically shaking my head. “You were just shot a few weeks ago. You’re staying right here.”

  Bay was hearing none of it. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

  I didn’t have time to argue with her. I grabbed her hand and growled. “You stay right with me.”

  She nodded.

  “If I say duck, you duck.”

  She nodded again.

  “If you get shot again I’m going to kill you,” I said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss. “You do exactly as I say.”

  “If you get shot I’ll never forgive you,” Bay said, her blue eyes wide.

  “Then I guess we both need to keep from getting shot.” I tightened my hand around Bay’s, and then we bolted into the woods, running to the sound of gunfire. That’s never a good idea, just for the record.

  Eight

  “Where?” I asked, closing my eyes and listening. I couldn’t hear anything but the normal sounds of morning. This is why I hate the woods – although I’m not keen on all nature, if I’m telling the truth.

  Bay pointed to my right. “It’s just beyond those trees.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d wait here for me?” I had to try one more time. Pulling her into danger was foreign to me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

  Bay shook her head. “I’m going with you,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think we’re going to find what you think we’re going to find.”

  “What does that mean?” I was confused … and conflicted. I didn’t know which one was worse.

  “Where do you think Aunt Tillie was going so early in the morning?”

  I stilled. That was a very interesting question. “You think it’s her? Where would she get a gun?”

  “She used to have a handgun and a rifle until my mom deemed them contraband and took them from her,” Bay said. “She was looking for money a few weeks ago. She has access to a computer.”

  “You have to show identification to get a gun,” I said.

  “Not if you magically rig the game.”

  I considered the suggestion. Would Aunt Tillie actually order a gun over the Internet? Could she be that stupid? Oh, who am I kidding? That woman does what she wants when she wants. She’s like a magical little Nazi with no rules and no parental guidance. “You still stay behind me,” I said. “If she accidentally shoots someone, I want it to be me.”

  “What if it’s not her? I could be wrong.”

  “I don’t think you’re wrong,” I said. “I still want you behind me. If it’s someone else … if I say run, you run.”

  Bay wrinkled her nose. “We’ll see what’s going on and make our decisions then,” she said. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “You drive me crazy.”

  “It runs in the family.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “Let’s go.” I tugged on her hand and led her through the trees, slowing my pace so I could approach quietly. When the gun f
ired again, I cringed. We were definitely closer. The sound of the gun going off was followed by a series of whoops and excited uttering. It sounded like … teenage girls.

  I shifted my eyes to Bay, confused. She merely shrugged. Obviously she had no idea what was going on either. We were about to find out. I led her through the final line of trees and pulled up short so I could study the people assembled on the bluff.

  Aunt Tillie was definitely here, and she wasn’t alone. There were seven teenage girls with her, all dressed in yoga pants and hoodies, and Aunt Tillie was instructing them on the finer points of rifle utilization.

  Bay moved up beside me, silent, and watched as Aunt Tillie pointed to a spot over the bluff. The elderly Winchester matriarch then bent over and lifted a pot from the ground and tossed it in front of the girl – as far out as she could.

  The girl with the gun pulled the trigger, shattering the pot into shards, and causing the other teenage girls to break out into enthusiastic applause.

  “That was great, Shiloh,” one of the girls said.

  “Thanks, Madison. It’s much easier once you get used to the gun’s kick,” Shiloh said.

  “It seems heavy to me,” one of the other girls said.

  “You have to get used to it, Cinnamon,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “My name isn’t Cinnamon,” the girl said. “It’s Cherise. I’ve told you that like a thousand times.”

  “You have red hair,” Aunt Tillie said. “Cherise is a stupid name. You’re either Cinnamon or you can go.”

  Cherise looked conflicted. “Fine. You can call me Cinnamon. You really are a mean lady, though. You know that, right?”

  “I’ve worked hard to earn and maintain my reputation,” a blasé Aunt Tillie replied. “I see my legacy is safe.”

  I knew what I saw, and yet it didn’t make sense. If Bay and her cousins were to be believed, the townspeople lived in fear of Aunt Tillie. Why would some of the town’s youngest and most easily influenced denizens be hanging out with a crazy old woman who cursed people?