Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) (2 page)

“If I say yes, will you think less of me?”

“No,” I said. “I feel the same way. I was wondering what Thistle was doing when Brett wandered in. I’m whipped, too.”

Landon scowled. “Do you have to put it like that?”

“Come on,” I said, clapping his arm to jolt him out of his doldrums. “I could use some help carrying that chest over there into the loft.”

“Cool,” Landon said, following me to the trunk in question and grabbing one of the ends. “Ugh, criminy. What do you have in here? It’s not pot, is it?”

I rolled my eyes. Aunt Tillie’s pot field was notorious in certain circles, and the fact that I help her cultivate it from time to time is hardly secret. Landon is convinced one day he will catch her in the act. I think the true problem for him is he has no idea what he’ll do should that ever happen.

Landon talks a big game, and his fights with the persnickety Winchester matriarch are legendary, but I’m certain Landon will never do anything to hurt Bay. That includes arresting an eighty-year-old woman because she grows pot.

“It’s old riding gear and tack,” I explained, grabbing the other end and pointing toward the ladder. “This is going to be a pain to get up there.”

“I’m strong and manly,” Landon said. “You’re almost as strong as me. I’m sure we can handle it.”

“You make me laugh,” I said, snickering as we shifted the chest.

It took some maneuvering – and a lot of swearing and sweating – but we finally managed to secure the trunk in the loft. Landon gave the large chest a final kick before his attention shifted to a spot on the loft floor.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, following his gaze. “Do you see a dead animal? They get up here from time to time. I can get rid of it.”

“It’s not an animal,” Landon said, kneeling for a closer look before lowering his fingers into the straw. “I think it’s blood.” He lifted his fingers, the unmistakable dark stain shining on his fingertips.

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow as I moved closer to him. “Animal blood?”

Landon shrugged. “That would be my guess,” he said, glancing around the expansive loft. “Maybe something got wounded and crawled up here to die.”

“Let’s look,” I suggested.

We spent the next five minutes searching every corner but ultimately came up empty.

“If a wounded animal or bird died up here we might never find it,” I said finally. “There are big enough scavengers in the area to drag it off.”

“I guess,” Landon said, although he didn’t look convinced. “That’s a lot of blood for a small animal.”

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Landon said. “I’d feel better if we had someone else look around this loft, though.”

“Like who? Do you want to call Chief Terry?”

Terry Davenport is Hemlock Cove’s chief of police. I was convinced an animal met a tragic fate in the loft, but I knew Landon well enough to respect his instincts.

“Not Chief Terry,” Landon replied. “Let’s call Bay.”

I stilled, surprised. “Bay? Why do you want her?” The answer occurred to me after the question already escaped my lips. “You think a person might’ve died up here and want to see whether Bay can find a ghost, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Landon replied. “Let’s just call Bay. I’ll feel better if we exert due diligence.”

I shrugged. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“
W
hat’s the big emergency
?”

Thistle Winchester, her short hair an odd shade of lavender this month, stepped into the stable and fixed me with a curious look.

She’s hard to explain. Most people think she’s mean and live in fear of her mood swings. They’re probably smart to do that. I adore her, though. I like the way she smiles … and laughs … and plots to take over the world.

Thistle has a huge mouth, don’t get me wrong, but she also has an enormous heart. She enjoys messing with her family – especially Aunt Tillie – but she would die for any one of them. She’s brave and true. Did I mention she looks amazing in the bohemian skirts she wears?

“Landon found blood in the loft and he wants to make sure it’s animal instead of human,” I replied, leaning over to give Thistle a soft kiss. She returned the gesture, reaching her slim arms around my waist to give me a hug. The action was simple, but it completely took me by surprise. “What was that for?”

Thistle is sweet when no one is looking. In front of people, she likes to act tough. Of course, she is tough. I’m eight inches taller and sixty pounds heavier than she is, but I’m pretty sure she could take me in a fair fight. In an unfair fight? Yeah, she would mop the floor with me.

“Nothing,” Thistle said, hurriedly shaking her head. “I only … wanted to hug you. What? That’s allowed.”

I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. “It’s definitely allowed … and encouraged,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waifish body and pulling her close. “You usually only hug me when we’re alone.”

“She’s feeling vulnerable,” Bay announced, stepping into the stable behind Thistle and shooting her cousin a dark look. “She knows I’m about to win the battle for the extra room and she needs someone to bolster her spirits.”

“You wish,” Thistle shot back. “That room is going to be for crafts. Period!”

Ever since Clove moved out, leaving an empty room in a building already cramped, Bay and Thistle have been engaged in something of a war to determine what to do with it. Bay wants to create an office and Thistle wants a place to do her craft projects in peace. I honestly have no idea who will win this one. It’s fun watching the curses fly, though.

“No fighting,” I said, flicking the ridge of Thistle’s ear to get her attention. “We don’t have time for that right now. You promised me a home-cooked dinner.”

“Technically I promised you dinner,” Thistle clarified. “I didn’t say I was going to cook it.”

“So, we’re going to the diner?”

The Winchester women are some of the best cooks in the area. We often eat dinner at The Overlook. Two nights a week, though, Thistle requests a break. That generally means we get takeout from the diner and curl up on the couch to watch television at my place. The solitude offers solace and mental reprieve for both of us.

“Actually, I was thinking we could get dinner at the diner and then spend the night here,” Thistle suggested, taking me by surprise.

“In the barn?” Bay asked, wrinkling her nose.

“No one is talking to you,” Thistle snapped, her eyes flashing. “I believe your boyfriend is in the loft looking at blood. Why don’t you join him?”

Because they grew up together, Bay and Thistle are used to each other’s moods. “Why don’t you bite me?” Bay challenged.

“I’m going to make you eat dirt and then sit on you and laugh while you choke if you’re not careful,” Thistle threatened.

This feud over the room was really starting to get out of hand. “Guys, that’s enough of that,” I ordered. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Me, too,” Landon intoned as he appeared at the edge of the loft opening and stared down at us. “Sweetie, can you please come up here and help me? I have a problem.”

“It’s probably in his pants,” Thistle quipped.

Bay ignored her cousin and headed for the ladder. “I don’t understand why you want me here,” she complained. “An animal probably died up there. The odds of that blood belonging to a human are pretty slim.”

“Thank you, Miss Expert,” Landon drawled. “Can you look anyway?”

“That’s Ms. Expert to you,” Bay said, although she climbed the ladder, even accepting Landon’s hand as he pulled her the final way up.

I couldn’t help but smile when Landon whispered something to Bay, causing her to giggle. It was probably something dirty, but the FBI agent knew exactly how to soothe Bay’s frazzled nerves. They’re a good match.

“It was probably a raccoon or something,” Thistle suggested. “Something bigger might have taken the carcass away. Or it could have crawled away and died out on the property.”

“That would be great,” Landon said. “I’ve learned that Hemlock Cove rarely yields easy answers, though. I want Bay to look for a … .” He didn’t finish the sentence, worry someone might be eavesdropping forcing him to leave the implication hanging.

“A goat?” Thistle suggested, smiling evilly as Landon scowled. “Do you have Bay up there looking for goats?”

“Don’t make me come down there, Thistle,” Landon warned. “I will.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” I shook my head as Thistle turned her expressive eyes in my direction. “What? He started it.”

“That doesn’t mean you always have to finish it,” I said, rubbing my thumb against Thistle’s soft cheek. She’s naturally beautiful, high cheekbones offsetting a pleasing face. She wears very little makeup and still manages to take my breath away. “What were you saying about dinner?”

“Oh, right,” Thistle said, rubbing her hands together as she warmed to the topic at hand. “I was thinking we could get takeout and spend the night here.”

“In the stable?” I was obviously missing something.

Thistle nodded. “I have blankets in my car and I thought we could watch the storm from the loft,” she said. “It’s supposed to be a big one. You know how I love storms.”

She does love storms. She gets excited when she senses the change in the atmosphere. Thanks to her, I’ve grown rather fond of storms, too. I especially like the way she crawls into my lap during them. “We can do that,” I said, still unsure whether I was missing something. “Do you want to tell me what else is going on?”

“I thought we could talk about the construction and how you’re going to change things,” Thistle admitted. “I … thought maybe I could help decorate.”

Ah, there it was. Ever since I announced my intentions to expand the stable and turn the neighboring barn into a show house Thistle had been excited at the thought of decorating. She isn’t much for outdoor work, and when it comes to the day-to-day tasks at Hypnotic, the magic store she owns with Clove, she shows varying degrees of interest. Creating candles and sculptures and decorating are a different matter entirely.

“We can do that,” I said. “You’ve been telling me about these ideas you have for months.”

“Well, we can’t really do anything until the construction is finished, and that’s not even starting for another three weeks,” Thistle said. “It’s just … I think both spaces could be really great. Then, by the time you add in the petting zoo you have planned, I think this could be one of the biggest draws in Hemlock Cove.”

Her excitement was contagious. “I think that sounds fun,” I said, cupping the back of her head and pressing a soft kiss to her upturned mouth.

“Good.” Thistle did a little dance that was almost comical. “I brought catalogs.”

The mention of catalogs would be enough to instill fear in most men. The idea of sharing time with Thistle and listening to her ideas filled me with delight. I love the way her mind works.

“Are you sure?” Landon looked annoyed as he appeared at the edge of the loft. “Look again, Bay. It’s a big area.”

“It might be a big area,” Bay conceded, her blond head popping into view as she looked over the edge and shot Thistle an annoyed look. Something unsaid passed between the two women, and for the first time in days I realized their wordless communication had nothing to do with the battle over the spare room. This was pure man annoyance. “It’s also a completely open area. Where do you think this … goat … might be hiding?”

“I don’t understand why you’re so convinced the blood is human,” I said, slipping my arm around Thistle’s shoulders as she leaned into me. “There’s no reason the blood would be human. I lock the stables every night, and I’m the only one with regular access.”

“I’m not saying the blood is human,” Landon said. “It’s just … if it is … I want to get ahead of it. I don’t want a dead body popping up and biting us when we’re trying to have a relaxing weekend. It’s the Fourth of July. We should be having fun.”

“If a dead body is popping up and biting you, we have bigger worries,” Bay said, her tone serious even though mirth danced across her features. “That would mean we’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and Aunt Tillie was right. It will be every witch for herself.”

“Come here, mouth,” Landon said, reaching for Bay and missing as she skirted his outstretched hands. “There’s nowhere to run, Bay. I will catch you.”

I smirked as I watched them cavort, Landon’s earlier worry seemingly evaporating. Even when he was upset with Bay, or worried about their future, he always found joy in their everyday interactions.

“Oh, well, great.”

I cringed at the new voice, turning to find Aunt Tillie standing in the open stable door.

She’s hard to explain, too. She’s four feet and eleven inches of raw power and sarcastic overtones. Today, for example, she’s dressed in camouflage cargo pants and a pink hat with a flower sticking out of the top. She looks as if she’s gearing up for trouble, which is never a good thing.

“What are you doing here?” Thistle asked before I had a chance to voice the question – in a much nicer way, mind you. I’m one of the few people who rarely fight with Aunt Tillie. Even I can’t explain it.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Little Miss Attitude,” Aunt Tillie said, flicking the end of Thistle’s nose as she passed. “Can’t I stop in to see one of my favorite people without announcing my itinerary to the masses?”

Landon, his face red from the effort exerted to catch Bay, glanced down from the loft as he kept his wriggling blonde close. “I’m glad to see you admit I’m your favorite.”

“I was talking about Marcus,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.

I had a feeling Landon knew that, but he enjoys messing with Aunt Tillie whenever the opportunity arises. She gets immense joy from irritating everyone she comes in contact with, so whenever someone returns the favor everyone gets a kick out of it.

“You’re welcome to stop by whenever you wish,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the annoyed look on Thistle’s face. She doesn’t get my relationship with her great-aunt. No one does. It’s one of those weird, inexplicable things, yet I wouldn’t trade it for anything. “To what honor do I owe today’s visit?”

“I’m bored,” Aunt Tillie announced, narrowing her eyes as Bay squealed and Landon struggled to keep his grip on her. “If you two are going to roll in the hay, you might want to wait until the rest of us leave,” she shouted up to the loft. “That’s what’s done in proper circles.”

“We’re not rolling in the hay,” Bay shot back. “Hay makes me itch.”

“Cops do that to me,” Aunt Tillie shot back, sending Landon a sarcastic thumbs-up. “Just ask ‘The Man’ there.”

“I wish you would stop calling me that,” Landon protested. “It’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying, so that works out,” Aunt Tillie said. “Seriously, what are you two doing up there?”

“We found blood in the loft and Landon wanted Bay to look around to see whether she sees anything,” I supplied.

“She didn’t, for the record,” Thistle added.

“It was probably an animal,” Aunt Tillie said, making a face. “Why would a person crawl up into the loft to die?”

“I just wanted to make sure,” Landon said. “We’re supposed to be having a nice weekend together. I don’t want anything ruining it.”

“You worry too much,” Aunt Tillie said, shaking her head. “You’re kind of a kvetch.”

“I hate it when you use that word, too,” Landon said, losing his grip on Bay and falling backward as she giggled. “You did that on purpose.”

“I’m not rolling in the hay with you,” Bay said, brushing a strand of her flyaway flaxen hair from her face. “It makes my arms break out and itch. You say you don’t want the night ruined. That will definitely ruin our night because then you won’t be able to touch me.”

“Oh. Well, you should’ve told me that,” Landon said, conceding defeat as he moved toward the ladder. “I would’ve stopped wrestling with you if I knew that was the case.”

“Live and learn,” Bay said, following Landon down the ladder. “There’s nothing here, though. I think Marcus is right about the blood belonging to an animal.”

“That’s a relief,” Landon said, waiting at the bottom of the ladder so he could snag Bay as she neared the bottom and twirl her around. “All I want to think about this weekend is food, fireworks and you.”

“Men are simple creatures, like dogs,” Aunt Tillie intoned, rolling her eyes. “Give them a hot meal and a woman and they’ll happily wag their tails for hours. Speaking of dinner, though, you’re expected to join your mothers at the festival. They’re barbecuing, and I was sent to retrieve you.”

“You said you came here because you were bored,” Thistle argued.

“Yes, well, whenever people talk to me for more than a few minutes I get bored,” Aunt Tillie said.

“I thought we were eating here,” I reminded Thistle. “I thought it was going to be just the two of us.”

“Attendance is mandatory,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s why I’m here, too. Trust me. I didn’t want to come into town, but Winnie said if I didn’t she was going to start conducting regular contraband searches of my greenhouse.

“Now, I’m innocent, but I don’t like my personal space being invaded,” she continued. “She’s such a busybody. I have no idea where she gets that from.”

Landon scowled. “You’re not fooling anyone,” he said. “I know what you’re doing in that greenhouse.”

“Oh, please,” Aunt Tillie scoffed. “You only think you know what’s going on in my greenhouse. If you knew the truth you would be amazed.”

“Yeah, I don’t think ‘amazed’ is the right word,” Landon countered. “Barbecue sounds good to me, though. I’m starving.”