Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) (15 page)

The Hollow Creek? That wasn’t a small area to search. “Did William know where you hid it?”

“Yeah,” Myron said. “He tried to help me look for it. We couldn’t find it, though. There are like fifty caves down there. I never did get a chance to thank him for trying to help me before he died.”

“He’s a ghost, too,” I offered, hoping it would give him some solace. “Maybe you can tell him now?”

“He’s a ghost?” Myron asked, looking around the circle. “Where is he?”

“He’s been hanging around the offices at The Whistler,” I answered.

I saw Aunt Tillie stiffen across the circle. She had lifted her head up and tilted it to the side, listening keenly. “Someone is coming.”

Myron looked scared, which was ridiculous because he was a ghost, and he disappeared within an instant.

I swung around when I heard a twig crack behind us. We all froze in anticipation for a second, and then breathed a collective sigh of relief when Landon stepped in the clearing. Hey, it was better than some random guest or a murderer coming upon us in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out.

“I came to see if you were all dancing in the moonlight,” he joked. There was an edge to his voice, though, that I couldn’t quite identify. “I guess I’m too early. What are you doing?”

I was scrambling to think up a lie when Aunt Tillie did just that for me. “We’re communing with nature.”

“With candles?”

“And wine,” she said, wandering over to the bag Marnie had left at the side of the clearing and pulling out three bottles of her special brew. I knew it! They had planned this all along.

Landon looked impressed when he saw the bottles of wine. “So you come out here once a month to get drunk and dance naked under the stars?”

I felt his gaze wander up and down my body as he said the words. I felt suddenly uncomfortable with his attention. It was like he was mocking me – or doubting me -- and I wasn’t sure which possibility made me feel worse.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Aunt Tillie challenged him.

“No,” Landon replied easily.

“Do you want to join us?” Twila asked, grabbing one of the bottles from Aunt Tillie and holding it up to him invitingly.

“No,” I answered for him.

Landon regarded me for a second. “Why not? Sounds like fun.”

I resigned myself to the rest of the night’s activities when I saw Landon settle himself on the ground next to my mom and Twila and start drinking straight from the bottle Aunt Tillie had supplied.

“This is strong stuff,” he coughed after the first drink. “I can see how you guys get drunk on this stuff so easily.”

I still think he thought the naked dancing was just a funny town rumor. He’d learn soon enough, though, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Quite frankly, he
deserved it for being such a busybody. The horrors he was about to see would stay with him – forever.

The next morning, I called Brian on his cell phone and told him I was going to be doing some legwork on Myron’s death so I wouldn’t be going into the office. Thankfully, he didn’t answer, so I could get away with just leaving a voice mail. After last night, Brian Kelly was the last person I wanted to talk to. Seriously, how was I going to explain that I got a lead from a ghost?

I showered quickly, dressing in warm layers for the trek I had planned. I was going to visit the Hollow Creek – and see if I could find Myron’s cave. I figured if I could find the gold, maybe it would hold a key to who tried to kill Myron. Actually, I just wanted to see if I could find it. What? Who hasn’t watched
The Goonies
and then tried to find buried treasure?

When I left my bedroom, I found Thistle and Clove waiting for me in the living room. They, too, were dressed in standard jeans, warm sweaters and heavy hoodies. “What are you guys doing?”

“We’re going with you,” Thistle said simply.

“What about the store?”

“Our moms are watching over it for the afternoon. They knew we wanted to go with you, so they volunteered.”

“They probably just want to redecorate,” I said. “They’ve been hinting at it for a year, and with you two gone for a couple hours, now is their chance.”

Thistle’s face went ashen. Under the light of day, I could see that the marks from Aunt Tillie’s curse had completely faded. She glanced at Clove doubtfully. “They wouldn’t, would they?”

“No,” Clove said dismissively. I could see the worry lining her face, too. “We can always change it back,” she added.

“Why do you really want to go?” I asked them suspiciously.

“Goonies never say die,” Thistle snickered.

“What?” I could feel my face begin to redden.

“You love that movie,” Thistle said. “I knew that you were going on an adventure to save the Goon Docks – or find the pirate ship – or whatever. How could you possibly resist?”

They knew me too well.

Instead of arguing with them further, I decided to accept their help. The Hollow Creek was a big area. The odds of me just stumbling on a cave in the middle of nowhere by myself weren’t great.

As we made our way out to my car, I couldn’t help but notice that Clove was lugging a large thermos with her. “What’s in there?”

“Hot chocolate,” she said.

“Why are you bringing hot chocolate?”

“Why not?”

“It’s not exactly like we’re going on a picnic,” I pointed out.

“It’s Rocky Road flavored,” Clove teased.

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“That’s pretty awesome,” I admitted.

The Hollow Creek is a remote area located about twenty minutes outside of Hemlock Cove. It’s a beautiful panorama, with sandy beaches on the banks of the small river that flows through it. For years, the town had been trying to think of way to include the area in various town activities. The problem was, it was so remote that there was no way random tourists could find their way to it. Essentially, it had just become a private haven for town denizens who loved the outdoors.

“Marcus said this is the best fishing in the area,” Thistle said when we were all grouped on the banks of the river about a half an hour later.

“He fishes?” Actually, that didn’t surprise me. Marcus had the look of someone that spent a great deal of time in the outdoors.

“He does. He says he’s going to fry fish for all of us one night.”

“You don’t like fish,” I pointed out. “None of us do.”

“We can pretend for one night,” Thistle protested.

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I would have to find an excuse to miss fish night.

“Should we split up?” Clove was looking across the small creek uncertainly. It really was a big area.

“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully. “If we split up, someone could get lost really easily.”

Clove didn’t look like she liked that idea one bit.

“We could cast a joining spell?” Thistle suggested.

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. A joining spell didn’t actually join us together; it just made us hyperaware of those whom we were joined to. If one of us happened to wander away, the other two would be able to find her.

The three of us clasped hands in a small circle and concentrated. “Three hearts, three minds, one destination,” we chanted. “So mote it be.”

A slight jolt coursed through all three of us before we separated. “Let’s test it, just to make sure,” I suggested.

“It’s never failed us before,” Thistle countered.

We had actually cast the spell numerous times as teenagers. Hey, when you’re drunk in a field and there are horny boys all around, you can never be too careful.

The three of us separated, heading in different directions. “Try to stay within shouting distance,” I admonished them.

Thistle waved me off dismissively. “Thanks, mom.”

While the sandy areas alongside the Hollow Creek are easy to maneuver, the wooded areas on either side are much harder to navigate. Through the years, trees have toppled and the undergrowth has sprouted into dense foliage that is sometimes dangerous to step in. The search of the area surrounding the creek was a lot harder than any of us initially thought it would be.

After about two hours, we hadn’t found anything. “I think we should cast a finding spell,” Clove suggested.

Thistle and I exchanged wary looks. “I don’t know,” I hedged. “What happens if someone sees?”

A finding spell is vastly different than a joining spell – which eventually dissipates on its own. A finding spell actually involves conjuring an actual element – usually wind – and giving it a physical form. It doesn’t dissipate on it’s own, either.

“No one is out here,” Clove argued.

“Yeah, but what if it gets away from us – like it did during that Easter egg hunt that year?” Thistle asked.

“We were kids then. I think we’re smarter witches now,” Clove countered. “Plus, what are the odds that a grown man dressed like an Easter bunny will see it and think aliens have landed?”

That was actually up for debate – the smarter witches thing. I looked at Thistle for a sign of her opinion. She shrugged. “Why not?”

Unlike the joining spell, a finding spell doesn’t require a circle. Clove closed her eyes, muttered a few verses, and then snapped her fingers. A small ball of light appeared over her right shoulder. Our element.

“What was with the snap?” Thistle asked curiously.

“It’s just something new I’m trying.”

“It’s pretty lame,” Thistle said.

Clove glared at her. “It’s not lame.” She turned to me. “Is it lame?”

“More cheesy than lame,” I interjected.

“That’s so much better,” Clove muttered. “You always take her side. I know you really think it’s cool.”

Thistle and I watched Clove expectantly. “What?” She asked irritably.

“You conjured it, you control it,” Thistle reminded her.

“Oh, right.”

Clove turned to her little ball of light. “There’s a cave with a treasure, see if you can find it.”

We all stood together and watched as the ball of light zipped away and started exploring various areas around the creek.

“It sounds like it’s humming,” Thistle said after a few minutes.

“I tried to make it sound like a cicada,” Clove admitted.

“Why?”

Clove shrugged. “I just thought it would be cool.”

Since the ball of light was now doing all the work, the three of us sat down on a fallen tree and opened Clove’s hot chocolate. It was a beautiful day, but you could feel fall starting to take over the weather pattern. The leaves had started turning weeks ago. Soon, the frost would not only start but stick. And then the snow would come. While winter in northern lower Michigan is beautiful, it’s also my least favorite time of year. I don’t do well in the cold.

After about twenty minutes, during which time we saw Clove’s ball of light crossing back and forth over the creek in its endless search, we were all startled by the sound of something big moving in the woods behind us. We jumped to our feet and scanned the area, looking for a glimpse of what was coming our way.

“It’s probably just a deer,” Thistle said nervously.

“Deer don’t usually make that much noise,” I said.

“Maybe it’s a bear,” Clove said hopefully.

“Get rid of the finder,” I ordered.

“We’re not even sure what it is,” Clove protested.

“Now,” I ordered.

“She’s right,” Thistle said. “Better safe than sorry.”

Clove sighed and snapped her fingers. The low frequency humming dissipated immediately. Okay, the snapping thing was kind of cool.

A few seconds later, a tall figure stumbled from the woods and into the clearing where we were standing. I should have been surprised when I saw who it was. I wasn’t, though.

“Landon? What are you doing here?”

Landon looked surprised when he saw us. “Did anyone just see a giant firefly?”

Uh-oh.

“No,” I scoffed. “Maybe you’re still hungover from last night?”

Hey, it was a possibility. Those not familiar with Aunt Tillie’s special blend usually ended up on their asses – or on their knees over a toilet. Landon had imbibed half a bottle of wine himself last night. That probably saved him when the naked dancing began. I could only hope he had blocked it out – whether the alcohol had done it or his mind had done it as a defense mechanism.

“I’m not hung-over,” Landon argued, although I noticed he looked paler than usual and the circles under his eyes were pronounced. “Speaking of that, though, what happened last night?”

“You got drunk and we put you to bed on the couch in the backroom of the inn,” I said.

“I didn’t drink that much,” Landon protested.

“Aunt Tillie’s special blend isn’t meant for mere mortals,” Thistle said.

“You guys seem fine,” he countered.

“We’re used to it – and three drinks is our limit. That’s three sips. We know better than guzzling it.”