Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) (6 page)

“That’s an interesting idea, but I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too much work,” Aunt Tillie answered. “I’m an old woman and my energy only lasts for short bursts. You’re young. You should jump at the chance to catch evil-doers.”

“I … can’t,” I said, making a face. “I promised Thistle I would hang out with her.”

“Okay,” Aunt Tillie said, her tone cool. “If something terrible happens, it’s on you. I won’t take the blame for it.”

I forced a smile. “I think I’ll take the risk.”

“May the Goddess have mercy on all of our souls,” Aunt Tillie intoned, resting her hand against her heart. She looked so serious I considered giving in. She got distracted before I acquiesced. “I’m starving. Let’s get up to the inn before Landon eats all of the bacon. That boy is a glutton.”

“Sure,” I said, resigned. “Let’s eat breakfast.”

“And then we’ll talk about you staking this place out,” Aunt Tillie said. “You’ll probably feel different on a full stomach. Your mind will go back to its usual peak performance and you’ll realize that saying no to a defenseless old lady is cruel and unusual punishment.”

What is it with the women in this family knowing exactly how to manipulate me? I’m starting to think it’s a pattern.

“
H
ow was
your morning with Aunt Tillie?” Thistle asked later that afternoon, settling next to me on the picnic table bench as she slid a plateful of food in my direction. “Are you ready to join the circus yet?”

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “She’s a piece of work.”

Thistle arched an eyebrow, surprised and amused. “You rarely speak badly about Aunt Tillie. She must’ve been a real pill this morning.”

“Yes, I think she was a stool softener,” I deadpanned, earning a belly laugh from my girlfriend. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say anything negative about her. She’s … a lovely woman.”

“Yeah. She’s a real goddess amongst men,” Thistle said.

“Who are we talking about?” Landon asked, settling in across from us with his own heaping plate. “Did she happen to be walking around the property in pajamas and a sleep hat this morning, by any chance?”

“Ooh, intrigue,” Thistle said, leaning forward. “What was Aunt Tillie doing out in her pajamas? She usually saves that behavioral gem for when she’s trying to make Winnie’s head implode.”

Landon snorted. “That would do it,” he said. “Winnie caught her coming back inside with Marcus before breakfast and had a fit. Aunt Tillie said she and Marcus were meeting for a secret liaison and not to tell you because jealousy is an ugly beast.”

My cheeks burned as Thistle shifted an annoyed gaze in my direction. “Did she really say that?”

“She might have insinuated it,” I conceded. “She was clearly joking.”

“Yes, I wouldn’t worry about Marcus leaving you for Aunt Tillie,” Landon said. “No man wants to wake up to that sleeping hat.”

“What did she really want?” Thistle asked.

I didn’t miss Landon’s pointed gaze as it landed on me. “Oh, well, she just wanted to talk about fertilizer options.” I really am a terrible liar. I get why everyone says that. I’m not immune to my shortcomings.

“You had to talk about fertilizer before Aunt Tillie was out of her pajamas?” Landon challenged. “Why don’t I believe that?”

“Because you’re smart and handsome,” Bay supplied, dropping a kiss on Landon’s cheek before sitting next to him. “Did you miss me?”

“I cried the entire time you were gone,” Landon replied.

“Ugh. You guys make my stomach turn,” Thistle groused. “Do you have to be so cutesy all of the time?”

“You’re just jealous,” Landon said, grabbing a french fry from Bay’s plate and popping it into his mouth. “You wish you could be as cute as us.”

“Yes, it’s my hidden dream,” Thistle said, her tone droll. “How did you ever figure it out?”

“You make me tired,” Landon muttered, rolling his neck until it cracked. “I’m not going to let this early-morning excursion go until you tell me what’s going on. It would be easier on everyone if you owned up to it.”

“Yeah, Marcus,” Thistle said, poking my ribs and grinning. “Tell everyone what you were doing during your clandestine meeting with Aunt Tillie this morning. We’re all dying to know.”

“I … .” Crud. I hate being put on the spot. “I noticed you took a sample of the blood you found in the loft yesterday, Landon. Did you send it in to be tested?”

“Smooth,” Landon said, shaking his head. “I did send it to the lab. It’s not exactly a priority, but they said they should be able to tell whether it’s animal or human before the end of the day. It’s going to bug me if I don’t know.”

“That was a great swerve,” Thistle said. “Now how about we go back to your morning with Aunt Tillie.”

I love the woman, but she’s a real pain in the … .

“Oh, leave the boy alone,” Aunt Tillie chided, taking everyone by surprise as she popped up at the end of the table. “There’s no need to torture him because you’re jealous of our legendary love affair, Thistle.

“I’m old and don’t have the energy I used to have,” she continued. “I’m sure we can share. Marcus has enough affection to spread the wealth. I’m a gifted lover, but I’ll only be able to muster the strength to entertain him once a week.”

Landon choked on whatever he was trying to swallow and hit his chest to clear the blockage. Bay couldn’t stop herself from giggling, and the look on Thistle’s face was one for the ages. As for me, well, I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Aunt Tillie called Marcus to come out to her pot field this morning because someone tripped the wards,” Thistle announced, narrowing her eyes in a challenging manner as she locked gazes with Aunt Tillie. “I’m not sure how things went – or how far anyone got – but that’s what Marcus was doing out there.”

“Thistle,” I groaned, leaning my head back so I could stare at the sky. Sudden onset blindness thanks to the bright sun would be welcome at this point. “Why did you say that?”

“Because Aunt Tillie knows exactly how to get under her skin,” Bay supplied, smirking. “She’s very good at it.”

“It’s a gift,” Aunt Tillie agreed.

“I knew that’s what you were doing,” Landon said. “I don’t know why you bothered lying to me given the circumstances. The woman was walking around in her pajamas and swinging a big stick while whistling.”

“That’s how I hunt,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “It’s very effective.”

“Whatever,” Landon muttered. “Was anything stolen? If something was stolen you have to tell me. I need to know whether people are creeping around the property stealing marijuana. Drug dealers can be dangerous.”

“You’re a real pain this weekend,” Aunt Tillie said. “I think it’s because things have been quiet for an entire week and a half and you’ve convinced yourself something bad will happen because you have a long weekend. Chill out.”

“You chill out,” Landon shot back. “I have an awful feeling something is going to happen. I can’t shake it.”

“Maybe you’re clairvoyant,” Bay said, patting his arm. She didn’t appear particularly perturbed about Landon’s admission. “Aunt Tillie is right, though – wow, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say. You need to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Except for the blood in the loft and someone trying to cross the wards in that field,” Landon argued. “How can I be the only one who sees this?” Landon looked to me for support.

“I’d like to help you, man, but I think you’re overreacting, too,” I said, offering him a rueful smile. “I get that you’re antsy given everything that happened the week before last. Bay almost died and you’ve been hyper-vigilant ever since. There’s no reason to freak out, though.”

“Thank you for your support,” Landon muttered, shifting his eyes to Bay. “Do you really think I’m overreacting?”

“Yes, but I love you anyway,” Bay said. “It’s going to be okay. I understand where you’re coming from. If history is any indication, something bad is due to happen. It usually happens to one of us when the time comes.

“I promise to be careful, though,” she continued. “We can spend the day together and you can watch my every move.”

Thistle snorted. “That doesn’t sound co-dependent or anything.”

“No one was talking to you,” Bay sniffed. “It’s going to be fine, Landon. Nothing is going to happen. We’re going to eat lunch and then wander over to the pavilion to check out the pie contest. All of our mothers have entries.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Aunt Tillie said, wrinkling her nose. “They keep trapping me into agreeing to things I would rather die than attend. I think I must be slipping.”

“Oh, no, don’t say that,” Thistle said. “I think wandering around in your nightgown with a stick is totally normal. You keep doing it.”

“No one needs your fresh mouth,” Aunt Tillie warned. “I’m here to see the pie contest and then I’m going to search for the creeper.”

I stilled, confused. “Who is the creeper?”

“The person who tripped my wards,” Aunt Tillie replied, irked. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”

“Yeah, Marcus,” Landon teased, his earlier bad mood lifting. “The creeper is a real threat. He could throw the entire balance of Hemlock Cove out of whack.”

“You’re on my list,” Aunt Tillie threatened, extending a finger in Landon’s direction. “You probably don’t want to push me. I’m not in the mood for games.”

Tension roiled between Aunt Tillie and Landon for a moment, and I got so uncomfortable I decided to alleviate it. “So, you’re going to the pie contest?”

Aunt Tillie finally jerked her eyes from Landon and focused on me. “I am,” she confirmed. “Personally, I don’t see why you would bake a pie and let someone else eat it. That seems a real waste of time.”

“I’m right there with you,” Landon said. “They should’ve just given me the pies.”

“Well, at least we agree on something,” Aunt Tillie said. “Hurry up and eat your lunch. If I have to watch that stupid contest, you’re coming with me. Someone needs to entertain me or I’ll die of boredom.”

“Well, at least we have something to look forward to,” Thistle said.

“You’re on my list, too.”

“
I
CAN’T
believe
how many people are here,” Landon said, glancing around the crowded pavilion. “Who cares about pie this much?”

“You,” Bay replied, resting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “The only thing that would get you more excited than a slice of Marnie’s blackberry pie is if someone could figure a way to make one out of bacon.”

Landon’s eyes lit up. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Only if you want all of us to throw up,” Thistle answered, slipping my arm over her shoulders so she could move in front of me to see the action. “Oh, look. All three of our mothers made the finals. This should end well.”

“You have a wonderfully witty outlook on life today,” I said, poking her stomach and earning a grin. “What’s with you?”

Thistle shrugged. “I don’t know. The storm invigorated me.”

“How did sleeping in the barn go?” Bay asked. “I don’t think I could’ve done that. I prefer a bed.”

“Yes, you’re a terrific prude sometimes,” Landon said, skirting her hand when she playfully slapped him. “I heard you guys had some excitement when Thistle disappeared, though. I wouldn’t have liked that setup.”

“I went to the bathroom,” Thistle argued. “It’s not like I left town.”

“I wouldn’t have even noticed if the screams didn’t wake me up,” I said. “It was just … eerie. I know it was teenagers fooling around, but I swear I felt as if someone was watching me when I shut the stable doors.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Thistle said. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I didn’t want to make you nervous. I was just … overreacting.”

“And running around barefoot when you shouldn’t have been,” Thistle said. “How is your toe?”

“Sore and bruised, but otherwise fine. There’s no reason to worry, Mom. I didn’t break the skin.”

“Okay, I’ve been scoping out the competition, and we don’t have any,” Aunt Tillie said, pushing between Landon and me to give herself room. “The only other person who made the finals is Denise Tipton. We all know her pie tastes like cardboard.”

Meadow Tipton, Denise’s daughter, stood on the other side of Landon and shot Aunt Tillie a dirty look. Aunt Tillie ignored her.

“I thought you didn’t care about the contest,” Bay challenged, tilting her head to the side as she watched her mother carry her pie to one of the pedestals on the far side of the stage. “Now all of a sudden you’re acting as if winning a blue ribbon instead of a red one is important.”

“Hey, I don’t care about the contest, but your mothers do,” Aunt Tillie said. “If they want to win, I want them to win.”

“You just like beating people,” Thistle said. “Admit it. You’re happiest when you can claim victory, even if it’s for a pie you didn’t bake.”

“There’s nothing wrong with winning,” Aunt Tillie sniffed, rolling her eyes when Twila took the time to wave at her. “Things are going to get ugly when one of your mothers is judged to have better pie than the others.”

Thistle pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, the double entendre proving too hilarious to ignore.

“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re a pervert,” Aunt Tillie chastised. “Stop being a buffoon, and focus on your mothers.”

“I’m a little worried,” Bay admitted. “If Mom wins she’s going to be unbearable.”

“Don’t kid yourself. If Marnie or Twila win they’ll be unbearable, too,” Aunt Tillie said. “No matter what happens, there’s going to be a fight. It’s going to make all the squabbling you two do look like the junior leagues.”

“I think that sounds fun,” Thistle said. “We should’ve brought a camera.”

“Some days I really like you,” Aunt Tillie said, patting Thistle’s head. “You make me very proud.”

“Why do they keep entering these contests if they know it’s going to spark a fight?” I asked, earning dumbfounded looks from Aunt Tillie, Thistle and Bay. “Er … forget I asked.”

“Nice save,” Landon said. “Where are Clove and Sam, by the way?”

“They’re working at the Dandridge today,” Thistle answered. “They’re going to come into town later. Marcus wants to have a bonfire by the stables.”

“That sounds fun,” Landon said. “We’re probably going to want a place to hide once the pie contest goes south. Do you think I’ll still get a slice?”

“I can’t believe you’re not fat,” Thistle said. “All you talk about is food.”

“And Bay,” I added.

“Hey, where did Mom’s pie go?” Bay asked, craning her neck to study the empty pedestal. “I … did Mom move her pie?”

“That could be misconstrued as dirty,” Thistle said, although she studied the empty pedestal, too. “Seriously, I didn’t see her move the pie. Did anyone else?”

“I … .”

“Where is my pie?” Winnie’s angry screech was loud enough to cause everyone under the pavilion to cringe.

“I guess that answers that question,” I said, exchanging a glance with Landon.

“I’m on it,” Landon said. “If I find it, I’m eating it, though.”

“Yes, that should go over well.”

Curiosity got the better of everyone and we followed Landon to the pedestal.

“What happened, Winnie?” Landon was all business. He’s the only guy I know who can make pie theft seem like a legitimate FBI case.

“I put my pie there two minutes ago and someone stole it,” Winnie snapped. “I demand a mistrial!”