Once we finished and the birds had fled, Landon made a big show of wiping his brow. “Whew. That was something, huh?”
Mom shot him a fond look. “It was,” she agreed. “It was definitely something.”
I rubbed my forehead and wondered if I would end up with a magic hangover before remembering Clove. When I turned my attention to her, she looked fine, serene even. “Are you okay?”
She nodded without hesitation. “I am. I knew the second we all joined together that those birds were toast.”
I smiled because I could feel the confidence coursing through her. Apparently this empathic thing she had going for her covered more than just negative emotions. “We’re pretty tough,” I agreed, blowing out a sigh.
“I think we’re the only tough ones,” Thistle noted, her gaze dark as it moved around the now empty town square. “Everyone else scattered, leaving us to clean up the mess.”
“What did you expect?” Aunt Tillie challenged. “I know you all look at Hazel as if she’s some wonderful witch, but she’s a big nothing. She wants to be queen, but everybody knows I’m the queen.”
“You’re not the one who controlled the ghosts,” Landon pointed out. “That was Bay. I think she’s queen for the day, especially since the ghosts scared off the birds.”
Speaking of that ... . I glanced around to make sure none of the ghosts remained. I’d freed them the moment the birds dispersed because I didn’t want them to undergo even one extra moment of emotional torture. It looked as if they’d all scattered the moment I released them.
“I aimed the spell,” Aunt Tillie argued.
“Bay supplied the power.” Landon refused to back down. “She gets to be the queen today. My big, bacon-y queen.”
I shook my head. I could practically see the image dancing through his mind, and it was filthy. “Yes, I’m the queen. It doesn’t really matter who controlled the spell. What matters is that we’re okay ... and these birds are getting out of control.”
“It’s Lorna.” Aunt Tillie was certain. “We need to take her out.”
I balked. “We can’t take her out without proof.”
“What more proof do you need? Her mother was a dark witch. People around her keep dying. Let’s smite her and call it a day. The wedding is tomorrow. We need to get this out of the way before Clove walks down the aisle. It’s happening during the sunset solstice ceremony for a reason. We’re only going to get one shot at making the ritual perfect.”
At my core, I understood that, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice Lorna just because Aunt Tillie had a hankering. That’s not the way I operated. “We’ll have time to figure it out in the morning. As for tonight, I think we’d all do better with a good night’s sleep.”
“I agree.” Mom bobbed her head, her expression leaving little room for debate. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”
“That sounds like a plan.” Thistle turned her gaze toward the end of town where the converted barn she shared with Marcus was located. “I’m heading home. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow.” She made to start out, but Clove cleared her throat. “What?”
“You’re not spending the night at your place. You’re spending it at the Dandridge with me. It’s already been decided.”
I stilled. Uh-oh. “Wait ... .”
“Oh, yes.” Clove was adamant as she nodded emphatically. “You, too. You both agreed to spend the night before my wedding with me. We’re going to make chocolate martinis and reminisce ... and talk about the future. I can’t have any alcohol, but I can still watch you two get tipsy.”
Landon slanted his eyes toward me. “You’re spending the night with Clove?”
I’d forgotten about it. It didn’t seem like such a hardship when she first raised the idea. Now, though ... . “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t back out. It wouldn’t be fair to Clove. She asked very little of us. “I know we had plans, but I promised.”
“No, no, no.” Landon’s handsome face twisted into an exaggerated pout. “You promised me bacon games.”
“I know, but ... I promised Clove first.”
“Ugh!” Landon glared at Clove. “How does Sam feel about having to share in a sleepover? I’m sure he would prefer Thistle and Bay spend the night in their respective beds.”
Clove was having none of it. “He’s booked at the Dragonfly,” she said, referring to the inn our fathers owned. “This has been planned for weeks. We’re not supposed to spend the night together before the wedding. It’s bad luck.”
“We were just attacked by a flock of angry birds,” Landon pointed out. “I think that’s our bad luck for the night.”
“I don’t care.” Clove folded her arms over her chest. “I want to spend the night with Bay and Thistle like we used to. This will be our last chance to ... do anything that doesn’t involve toting around a baby. I’m going to be left out after that.”
My heart went out to her. In truth, no matter how hard we tried to include her, our lives were about to inexplicably change. There was no getting around that. “Clove is right.” I was firm when I pinned Landon with a quelling look. “We’re spending the night together. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night ... after she’s left on her honeymoon and we’re both drunk because this bird disaster is behind us.”
He didn’t look convinced. “This sucks. I don’t want to sleep alone.”
“Maybe Aunt Tillie will loan you Peg.”
I meant it as a joke, but he brightened considerably. “Yeah.” He swiveled to Aunt Tillie. “Can I have Peg?”
She nodded. “Sure. I would hate for you to cry or something because you can’t be alone. I’ll loan her to you so we don’t have to watch you fall apart. A grown man crying over sleeping alone is pathetic.”
Landon ignored the dig. “Okay. I’m fine with this. Have fun.” He gave me an absent kiss before separating. “I’ll see you in the morning, sweetie ... I’m going to pick Peg up at the inn.”
My mouth dropped open as he practically skipped away. “Well, I guess I know where I rank.”
Mom unsuccessfully attempted to smother a chuckle. “There, there.” She lightly patted my arm. “Think of it as a dry run for when you have children and you’re not the most important person in each other’s lives.”
That didn’t make me feel better. “I definitely need a chocolate martini.”
“You and me both,” Thistle added. “This has been a crazy night.”
And it was likely to get crazier.
WE SETTLED IN AT THE DANDRIDGE, slipping into pajamas Clove supplied. They were new, a gift she’d purchased for us, and we all matched. The look on Thistle’s face when she realized we were in identical pink pajama sets was worth the entire ordeal ... and so was the photo I snapped when she wasn’t looking. It would make good blackmail material for years to come.
Thistle and I each indulged in two chocolate martinis, but that was the limit. We wanted to be well-rested for the next day, especially if we would have to engage in a fight. Clove insisted we all sleep together in the living room — she claimed the couch, leaving the floor for Thistle and me — but we didn’t argue.
The martinis hit me harder than I expected. My eyes were so heavy I could barely keep them open as I slid into my sleeping bag on the floor. I dreamed almost instantly … and it was beyond odd. In the dream, Aunt Tillie was in the room with us and she carefully picked her way through the mess on the floor until she was next to Clove. She placed her hand on our cousin’s head and then muttered a spell I didn’t recognize.
“Happy wedding,” she whispered before total blackness overcame me.
After a brief respite, the dreams came fast and furious.
There was the time we got Sugar for Christmas.
I stilled. “I … who are you?” I had trouble putting a real face with the voice and beard. “I know you.”
“Of course you know me,” the man said. “I’m Santa Claus! You don’t believe in Santa Claus, though, do you?”
“No … yes … maybe … .” I didn
’t know how to answer. “If you’re Santa Claus, did you bring me a gift?”
“I did.”
“What is it?”
“You can’t have it until I’m sure you believe in me. Those are the rules.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who makes these rules?”
“My elves.”
“Aren’t you the boss of your elves?”
“I’m not the boss of anyone. It seems everyone tells me what to do and I do it.”
“That doesn’t seem like a very good job,” I said.
“It’s the best job in the world,” he countered. “I’m Santa Claus. I bring joy to the world, even if you don’t believe in me.”
“Maybe I do believe in you. I … .”
“If you believe in me, you have to say it.”
“I believe in you,” I mumbled.
“I can’t hear you.”
“She said she believes in you,” Clove yelled.
“Thank you, Clove,” he said. I knew now, in the dream world, that it was Chief Terry. Back then I didn’t recognize him completely. “I know you believe. Your present will come as soon as Bay tells me she believes.”
It was the moment of truth. I knew it. Everyone in town knew it. Now I only had to admit it.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I believe in Santa Claus.”
“I still can’t hear you,” Terry said, staring me down. “You need to say it louder!”
“I believe in Santa Claus!” I practically screamed the words and Terry broke into a huge grin.
“That’s better,” he said, leaning over and rummaging in the bag at his feet. When he turned around, he held a puppy. The black menace had a huge bow tied around its neck and it wriggled crazily.
My eyes widened and my heart leapt as I took another step forward. “Is that for me?”
“That’s for you, Clove and Thistle.”
Tears threatened to overwhelm me. “Thank you.”
“You have to take care of him. You girls have to feed him and walk him and love him. Do you think you’re up to the task?”
“You bet we are,” Clove said, rushing to my side to pet the puppy. “Wow!”
“How did you know to get us a puppy?” I asked.
“One of my elves told me.”
“How did the elf know?”
“Your Aunt Tillie has a huge mouth,” Terry replied, smiling at me one more time before turning his attention to the rest of the children. “Who wants presents?”
And the time we told Clove that Bigfoot was haunting the area around the Dandridge when we were spying on Sam.
Clove hadn’t stopped whining since we’d left Hypnotic and the sound of her voice was starting to mentally chafe.
“This isn’t hiking,” Thistle grumbled. “This is walking from the car to the lighthouse. It’s, like, half a mile.”
“That’s hiking,” Clove complained.
“Hiking is climbing up a mountain or traversing the wild terrain of Alaska,” Thistle countered. “A half a mile is not hiking.”
“‘Traversing the wild terrain’?” I raised an eyebrow as I glanced at her.
“I was watching Finding Bigfoot the other night,” Thistle replied absently. “They’re a little dramatic.”
“That’s something we should do,” I said. “Look for Bigfoot.”
“We would be awesome at that,” Thistle agreed.
“Camping in the great outdoors, following tracks – it sounds fun,” I laughed. “We would need to bring Aunt Tillie. Even Bigfoot would be afraid of her.”
“We would definitely bring Aunt Tillie,” Thistle agreed. “If she didn’t scare off Bigfoot, at least she’d be slow enough to distract him while we got away.”
“Bigfoot isn’t real,” Clove interjected knowingly.
“That’s what people say about witches,” Thistle replied.
“Bay, you don’t think Bigfoot is real, do you?” Clove was now scanning the tree line worriedly, despite her bravado.
“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “Most of those old legends have some basis in fact. Bigfoot was sighted in this area for more than a century, if you believe the old stories.”
“And that song,” Thistle added. “What was it called? The Legend of the Dogman?”
“I remember that,” Clove said suddenly. “It was a big deal when we were kids.”
“It was just a radio gimmick,” Thistle scoffed. “Every seven years or so they bring it back. Every group of kids thinks they’re the first to hear it.”
“But it’s not true,” Clove said, her eyes skittering warily around the dense foliage that surrounded us. “Right? It’s not true?”
I glanced at Thistle, who wasn’t even trying to hide the evil expression gracing her face. I had a feeling a plan was forming and the next solstice celebration was going to be a full-on Bigfoot extravaganza – just to torture Clove.
“I think you’re safe,” I replied. “If Bigfoot is real, he’s probably more scared of us than we are of him.”
“I doubt that,” Clove said nervously.
“Don’t worry, we’ll protect you,” Thistle teased.
There was the time we all worked together to save Clove from the man she’d dated before Sam, an individual who shook her faith in love. We created a wind monster that day that looked a lot like our dearly-departed Uncle Calvin. Landon was there. That’s when he realized what we were.
“I’m the one in charge here,” Trevor said angrily, worry on his face. “I’m the one with the knife.”
“We don’t need a knife,” I said calmly.
“I call the winds of the north,” Clove sang out from the far left, reaching her hand out to grasp Aunt Tillie’s waiting hand. “Let’s show Trevor here what he’s worth.”
“I call to the magic of the east,” Thistle chanted from my right, reaching her left hand out to grasp my right hand. “This will let us punish this beast.”
I gripped Thistle’s hand harshly. “I call to the wardens of the west,” I started. “For they always find what’s best.”
“What is this?” Trevor looked baffled. “Are you chanting? What are you guys? Witches?”
I felt my hand slip into Aunt Tillie’s, unsure how this would end and curious at the same time.
“And I call on the power of the south,” Aunt Tillie said, her eyes gleaming with rage. “Let’s show this lout how to close his big mouth.”
It wasn’t our best rhyme, to be sure, but it was effective.
Nothing happened right away, and Trevor looked triumphant in the moment. Then the power surged.
“So mote it be.”
I didn’t have to look behind me to know that my mother and aunts had joined hands behind us, pushing their power into our spell to tip it over the edge.
The energy in the room exploded. There was another force present now, and it was bearing down on Trevor.
I don’t know what he saw with that first glimpse, but the fear that washed over his face was more than enough to tell me not to look behind me.
There was a sudden roar and the wind spell that we’d conjured moved through us with such force it threatened to wrench my arm from Aunt Tillie’s grasp. I didn’t let it, though. I knew that our joined hands were driving the spell.
I risked a glance to my left and saw the monster move forward. The wind whipped through the room, driving my hair in front of my eyes. For a second, just a second, I recognized the figure in the wind – or at least I thought I did. I didn’t have time to focus on that, though, because our spell was descending on Trevor – who was making a mad dash to flee from the room.
The wind monster reached out – yes, it had arms, though I had no idea where they had come from – and the ethereal fingers of death now had hold of Trevor. He tried in vain to stab the monster. You can’t stab the wind.
Trevor’s screams were more pitiful than anything else as the wind monster engulfed him. “Help! Please, God, help me!”
“There’s no help for
you here, Trevor,” Aunt Tillie said coldly. “I’m the god here, and I want you out of my house!”
Trevor screamed again. I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t want to. The mewling sounds now emitting from his ravaged throat were enough for me to know that his face would be worse. However bad he was, however terrible he was, I didn’t want to see this. But I couldn’t look away.
“Holy shit!”
We hadn’t heard the office door open. I swung in surprise when I heard the new voice and met Landon’s stunned gaze from across the room. I let go of Aunt Tillie’s hand. Thistle and Clove did the same.
The wind monster dissipated as quickly as it had formed. Within seconds, the room was empty, and Trevor was unconscious on the floor.
Landon stepped into the room, weapon drawn. He kicked Trevor with his foot and then turned to us anxiously.
“Is he dead?”
“No,” Aunt Tillie said fitfully. “He only wishes he were.”
Landon turned to me, sweat washing down his face. His eyes flashed in recognition and intensity. I don’t know what I expected: questions, recriminations, outright denial? What Landon said, though, is something I’ll never forget.
“Good job, ladies. Good job.”
There were silly memories that involved threats to eat dirt.
There were heavy memories, like when Clove needed emotional bolstering.
There were also empowering memories ... and those were my favorite.
They cascaded one after the other for the entire night. My sleep was heavy even though my brain was busy. I might never admit it to Clove, but this was a really good idea. We needed the time together to re-forge bonds that could never be truly broken.
It was a good night.
Twenty-Three
I woke feeling rested, relaxed and a bit weepy. I found Thistle already awake and staring at me.
“Aunt Tillie,” I said.
Thistle nodded. “She put us under a sleep spell. I thought it was weird that I passed out after two drinks. And I swear I thought I saw her when I was struggling to stay awake. Then ... after all those dreams ... I knew.”
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