Careful What You Witch For (3 page)

Jack nodded, his eyes wary. “And it’s just going to be a show, right?”

“Of course,” Bay said, rolling her eyes. “We’re not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid … .”

“Oh, let’s just get this over with,” Thistle grumbled, irritable as she wrenched Marcus’ hand from her mouth. “If we’re going to perform like monkeys, I want to do it now. The longer we stand here talking about it, the more obnoxious it’s going to be.”

“You always were a ray of sunshine, Thistle,” Jack said. “Even as a child, I could always rely on you to ruin a good mood.”

Thistle blew him a kiss. “I’m nothing if not predictable.”

Jack’s face was grim as he regarded the three of us. “Just don’t go overboard.”

“Of course not,” Bay said, her face bright. “That’s not the Winchester way.”

Unfortunately, she was lying. That was exactly the Winchester way. I could only hope tonight would break from that tradition.

The table was big enough for all of the guests to sit around, my father and uncles rounding out the crowd. Sam opted to remain standing, close enough so I could feel his presence, but far enough away that he wouldn’t be mistaken as part of the show.

Bay was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for me to begin. Thistle was next to her, and Landon and Marcus had taken up position next to their respective girlfriends. They looked relaxed, but looks can be deceiving. Landon was still getting used to our witchy ways, although he’d come a long way in a short time. Marcus was just along for the ride, his face lit with excitement as his anticipation grew.

“Everyone join hands,” I instructed. “Now, everyone close your eyes and concentrate.”

“What are we concentrating on?” Jim Talbot, a reporter for the travel section at one of the Detroit dailies, seemed irritated with the whole endeavor.

“A different plane of existence,” I said, lowering my voice to an ominous level. “One where the dead live.”

“Does it intersect with this plane?” Clara asked, excited.

“Sometimes,” I said. “We have to help the ghosts cross over if we want to talk to them, though.”

“What kind of ghost are we looking for?” Chet asked.

“A friendly one,” Teddy said pointedly.

“Like Casper,” Thistle teased.

Teddy shot her a look. “Exactly.”

“A friendly ghost,” I agreed, fighting the agitation bubbling up. Keep calm, I reminded myself. They weren’t trying to be obnoxious. “Everyone concentrate.”

There was some giggling, and the sound of people shifting in their seats as they grew impatient, so I fixed Thistle with a pleading look. She winked, and then pointed to the ceiling.

A short burst of light erupted, blue energy licking at the chandelier above the table. It was the exact shade of Thistle’s hair.

“Omigod!” Clara was beside herself. “Is that a ghost?”

“Of course not,” Jim scoffed. “It’s a trick or something.”

A quick glance at Bay told me she was offended by the assertion. She wrinkled her nose and focused on the light, and after a moment, I saw hints of yellow join the fray.

“It’s another ghost,” Clara said, exhaling heavily. “There are two of them.”

I read the change in her demeanor. She’d gone from excited to fearful. That wasn’t going to do my father any good. “It’s the same ghost,” I soothed. “It’s just trying to take form.”

For his part, Jim was staring up at the ceiling. “Where are the light machines?”

Bay tilted her head to the side, causing the table to bump. She wasn’t thrilled with Jim’s skepticism, and she was trying to teach him a lesson.

“Holy crap!” Chet jumped in tandem with the table.

Jim let go of the hands around him and crawled beneath the table to investigate. “How are you doing this?”

His question was met with an ethereal scream from above. It sounded like the mystical lights were in pain.

I scorched Bay with a hateful look. She was taking things too far. Given the expression on her face, and the equally worried grimace on Thistle’s, I knew they weren’t doing it now. Sure, they were responsible for the lights and the shaking table, but the screaming was something else.

“What does it want?” Clara asked. “Is it trapped here?”

“It’s just visiting,” Dad said, shooting me a look. “Send it away, Clove.” He looked ticked off.

“I … .”

“Yes, send it away, Clove,” Jack ordered.

Another colored wisp – this one green – joined Bay and Thistle’s ongoing light show. Bay was shaking her head when our eyes met. They weren’t responsible for the green interloper. I felt Sam move in behind me. “You’re not doing all of this, are you?” His voice was rigid with worry.

I shook my head.

The green light increased its pace, swimming between the other two. I saw Bay and Thistle clasp hands across the room. I couldn’t hear what they were chanting, but I knew they were working against the new entity.

The green light grew in size, swallowing the remnants of Bay and Thistle’s discarded magic. The table was still shaking, but I knew my cousins weren’t responsible. Suddenly, the green light exploded, flaring bright, and then plunging the room into darkness.

Clara began to scream, and I wanted to join her.

“WELL,
that was fun,” Thistle said, resting her back against the hallway of the third floor.

“We really need to work on your definition of fun,” Landon said, running his hands over Bay’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bay said.

“You and Thistle made that thing … explode, though,” Landon pointed out.

“We didn’t make it explode,” Thistle said. “We just banished it.”

“For good?”

Thistle shook her head. “I have no idea. I have no idea where it came from in the first place.”

“I think it was drawn here,” Bay said. “Our magic called to it. It was probably just curious.”

“What was it?” Sam asked. He hadn’t spoken since we left the game room. After a few tense minutes, my father and uncles had managed to convince everyone that the light show was part of the act. A few drinks later – mostly bourbon – everyone agreed they had a great time and retired to their rooms. That had given us the opportunity to put our heads together out of earshot.

“It was a ghost,” Thistle said, looking to Bay for confirmation. “Right?”

“I think so,” Bay replied. “It didn’t take form, though. It was more like really angry energy.”

“Great,” Landon muttered. “Another poltergeist? The last one kept trying to kill you.”

“It’s okay,” Bay said, gripping his fingers tightly.

“It’s not okay,” Landon challenged. “I don’t want you in danger.”

“I’m not in any danger,” Bay said.

“You’re always in danger,” Landon said. “We were supposed to have a quiet weekend together. We were supposed to … I don’t know … snuggle in a hammock and eat more food than should be humanly possible. We weren’t supposed to be dealing with crap like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Bay murmured.

I knew she was worried. She was always worried where Landon was concerned. He said he accepted us – and our witch heritage – but he’d left once before. Bay lived under a cloud of doubt, always fearful that he would do it again. I knew he wouldn’t. One look at him told me everything I needed to know. He’d never willingly walk away from Bay again, but she wasn’t so sure, and I wasn’t the one who could convince her otherwise. That was Landon’s job, and I knew he would eventually succeed. He just wasn’t there yet.

“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.