Every Witch Way But Wicked (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery) (6 page)

“I did not say that. I just think they’re creepy.”

“What are we talking about?” I asked, throwing myself onto the couch to watch them work.

“Clove says my new candles are ugly,” Thistle said angrily.

“I didn’t say they were ugly!” Clove was clearly at the end of her rope.

“Where are the candles?”

“In the box on the counter,” Clove said.

I wandered over and looked in the box. Recently, Thistle had been experimenting with different types of candles. Clove had balked at the simple skulls Thistle had been manufacturing over the past two weeks. Thistle was apparently getting more creative with the skulls – if the candles in the box were any indication.

I pulled one of them out and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was still a skull, but Thistle has fashioned ornate knives jutting out from them. The wicks of the candles were at the hilt of the knives. She had also colored what appeared to be blood at the base of the knives.

“Awful, aren’t they?” Clove asked.

Actually, I thought they were kind of cool. “I bet they’re big sellers for the murder mystery weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I made them,” Thistle said haughtily.

“You made them to irritate me,” Clove countered.

“That was just an added side benefit,” Thistle said snidely.

I put the candle back in the box and went back to the couch. “You guys want to order lunch?”

“We saw you coming down the street and already ordered sandwiches,” Clove said. “It should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Cool.”

Thistle looked up from the herbs she was bagging and regarded me. “How was your first day with Brian?”

“I barely saw him,” I admitted. “He’s renovating William’s office.”

“That was quick,” Clove said.

“Tell me about it. William is pissed.”

“He’s still hanging around?” Thistle asked. “Have you asked him why?”

Thistle and Clove didn’t have the same gift I did. They couldn’t see ghosts. We had found out recently that if I was in close proximity with them they could actually hear ghosts – but neither of them was exactly pleased with that discovery. Thankfully, William hadn’t made his way down to Hypnotic yet. He had been a beloved member of the community in life. Unfortunately, he was sometimes the dirty old uncle people try to hide at family reunions. Let’s just say he had wandering hands.

“I asked him today,” I admitted.

“What did he say?” Clove asked curiously.

“He doesn’t think he was murdered.”

“Wouldn’t he know?”

“Not necessarily. He says he went to sleep and just didn’t wake up.”

“And Chief Terry didn’t order an autopsy?” Thistle asked dubiously.

“Why would he? William was ninety and there were no signs of a struggle or anything,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, I can see why he wouldn’t waste the time or money,” Thistle grudgingly admitted.

“Something else weird happened, though,” I said.

“What?”

“I asked him if maybe he had unfinished business and that was what was keeping him here and he kind of ran from the office.”

“He ran? Can ghosts run?” Clove looked intrigued.

“Well, he didn’t exactly run, but he floated really quickly.”

“Did he say anything?” Thistle looked puzzled.

“He said he didn’t have any unfinished business, but even Edith could tell he was lying.”

Thistle thought about it a minute. “I bet he’s just protecting Brian.”

“You just don’t like Brian,” I interjected.

“You don’t like him either,” she countered.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I said I got a weird vibe off him.”

“That’s the same as saying you don’t like him,” Thistle argued.

“I think he’s nice,” Clove offered.

“You think he’s hot,” Thistle shot back. “There’s a difference.”

“I don’t think he’s hot,” Clove countered, but her face was reddening under Thistle’s increased scrutiny.

“Whatever.”

“I don’t!”

“Okay, you don’t,” Thistle said, rolling her eyes in my direction.

“I don’t!”

Thistle and I turned our attention away from Clove and back to the store. “Will you guys be done by tonight?” There were still five boxes sitting on the counter waiting to be unpacked.

“We’ll be fine,” Thistle said. “Once Clove stops thinking about Brian and focuses on her work, that is.”

“You’re dead to me,” Clove grumbled as she returned to the decorations she was sorting.

Thistle and I exchanged knowing looks. Clove had a crush. Of course, the fact that she had a crush on my new boss was a little irritating, but if things worked out I might be able to work that to my advantage eventually.

What? I was thinking about her well-being. No. I really was.

After work, I went home long enough to change my clothes and get a notebook so I could cover tonight’s bonfire event. It wasn’t exactly like it was going to be difficult, but I wanted to make sure we had a good package for Brian’s first edition in charge.

When I got home, I found that our living room had been transformed into big pile of clothes. I figured Clove was underneath some of them, because I could see them moving when I entered the room.

“What’s going on?”

Clove looked up from the pile of clothes and regarded me with a stunned look. “It’s Thistle. I think she’s lost her mind.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just watch.”

I sat on the edge of the armchair and waited for whatever travesty Clove had been witnessing. I didn’t have to wait long. Thistle flounced out of her bedroom in her bra and underwear and pointed a finger at me accusingly. “I have nothing to wear. I need to go through your closet.”

I glanced around at the pile of clothes for a second. “You’ve tried all these on?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve only been home like twenty minutes and this is like fifty outfits, so that’s virtually impossible,” I pointed out.

“Most of them she just came out and threw at me and screamed ‘how could you let me buy this,’” Clove said helpfully.

“I did not,” Thistle scoffed, running her hand through her hair exasperatedly.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Thistle was clearly on the edge. If I started laughing now, she would cross over to deranged, and then I may be late for the bonfire tonight because Thistle would beat the crap out of me.

“You’re nervous,” I finally said.

“I am not nervous.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not.”

“You are, too.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Clove interrupted. “What can we do to help?”

“Find me something that doesn’t make me look repulsive,” Thistle countered.

“None of this makes you look repulsive,” Clove said kindly, glancing down at the skirt in her hand. “Although, this skirt does make you look hippy.”

“Way to help,” I shot back at Clove.

Clove shrugged helplessly.

I blew out a sigh and got to my feet. “Let’s approach this one step at a time. First off, we need to settle on an outfit. If Marcus shows up and you’re wearing that he’ll pass out before you even leave the house.”

Thistle glanced down at her black boyfriend underwear and the matching pushup bra. “You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right. Nice to see you put on your fancy underwear just in case, though.”

Clove looked scandalized. “You’re not planning on sleeping with him on the first date, are you?”

“Of course not,” Thistle shot back. “And these are not my fancy underwear.”

“Of course they are,” I challenged her. “They make your butt look thinner. I have the same pair. I’m not stupid.”

Thistle’s cheeks flooded with color. “I’m not planning on sleeping with him,” she repeated.

“I know,” I said encouragingly. “It never hurts to be prepared, though.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Clove said. “I knew you shaved your legs this morning for a reason.”

I sorted through the pile of clothes on the couch for a minute and then turned to Thistle. “I don’t think you should wear a skirt,” I said honestly.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to a bonfire,” I pointed out.

“So?”

“You’re going to be sitting on bales of hay,” I tried again.

“So?”

“So, you don’t want straw to poke you in your . . . you know . . . hoo-ha,” Clove supplied.

Thistle and I both swung on Clove. “Her hoo-ha?”

“If you’re going to call it that, you’re never going to get laid,” Thistle grumbled dismissively.

After helping Thistle pick out her most flattering jeans and pairing them with a sparkly tank top and her cutest Madden boots, Clove tackled Thistle’s hair while I started applying her makeup.

When we were done, we stepped back to admire our handiwork. She did look fabulous, if I did say so myself.

Thistle regarded herself in the mirror and blew out a sigh. “Do I look okay?”

“You look great,” Clove said earnestly.

“You do,” I agreed.

Thistle still looked doubtful, but the fight had left her. “Do you think Marcus will like it, though?”

“You really like him,” I laughed.

“He’s just a guy,” Thistle protested.

“If he was just a guy, you wouldn’t have changed after work,” I pointed out.

“Stop talking to me,” Thistle said. “I need to think.”

I left Clove to calm Thistle down and changed into a pair of jeans and a flattering vee-neck shirt. I grabbed my
Harry Potter
hoodie before leaving the guesthouse. I figured Clove’s more even nature would help calm Thistle down before Marcus got there.

When I opened the door, though, I slammed into Marcus’ broad chest and found myself rethinking my previous assertion. “Hey,” he greeted me in surprise.

“Hi Marcus,” I said a little too loudly. “You’re right on time.” Promptness is a great trait to possess – except when your date is freaking out thirty feet away.

“I thought that was a good thing?” Marcus looked confused.

“It is,” I scrambled to keep him involved in conversation and away from the threshold to the guesthouse.

I could see Thistle and Clove manically gathering all the discarded clothes in the reflection on the front window. I grimaced when I saw them toss the clothes into my room instead of Thistle’s. “So, you’re going to the bonfire?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m on my way there now,” I said cheerily.

Marcus narrowed his eyes when he heard something crash in the other room. “What was that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t hear that big crash? Are you sure everything is okay in there?”

I could see Clove had stumbled over the coffee table and was sprawled on the floor. Thistle was impatiently trying to pull her up off the floor, while simultaneously pinching her on the shoulder to admonish her clumsiness.

“It’s fine,” I lied.

Marcus waited for a minute, but when he realized I wasn’t moving out of the doorway he furrowed his brow. “Should I leave and come back in a few minutes or something?”

That actually might be helpful. I figured if I told him that, though, he might think we were crazy or something.

“No, I’m ready,” I heard Thistle’s voice as she stepped up beside me.

Marcus visibly relaxed when he saw Thistle. “You look great,” he said.  I could tell he meant it.

“Oh, thank you,” Thistle said dismissively. “I just threw on the first thing I saw in my closet.”

I cast her a sidelong glance but didn’t say anything. Thistle may be intent on impressing Marcus, but that wouldn’t stop her from wrestling me to the ground and making me eat dirt from the flowerbed if I pissed her off. Then I would really be late.

I stepped aside to let Thistle out, casting a glance back inside to see what Clove was doing. She was rubbing her shoulder where Thistle had pinched her and looking murderous.

I closed the door behind Thistle and started towards my car. “See you at the bonfire.”

“Aren’t you taking Clove with you?” Thistle asked.

I paused. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Then how is she going to get there?”

I regarded Thistle and Marcus for a second.  “I guess I’m waiting for Clove.”

Thistle and Marcus headed for his car without a second glance. I walked back into the guesthouse and cast a glance at Clove. “Hurry up.”

“Why do I have to hurry?”

“Because if you don’t, I’m not giving you a ride and then you won’t be able to spy on Marcus and Thistle all night.”

Clove met my gaze steadily. “Give me five minutes.”