“Nobody wants to survive that. I’ve read The Stand. That way lies freaky glowing hands and a decimated Vegas. That’s absolutely zero fun.”
Well, at least she’d given it some thought.
“It’s not the apocalypse,” Mom reassured Clove. “We need to talk about the baby.”
Clove leaned back in her chair and rubbed her stomach, her eyes instantly landing on Thistle. “You told them.” Her tone was accusatory.
“I felt like I had no choice,” Thistle said. “What happened today was a big deal.”
“The baby doesn’t like the shades,” Clove explained. “She didn’t mean to hurt Bay.”
“Of course she didn’t.” Mom patted Clove’s hand. “She loves Bay because you love Bay. We’re not worried the baby wants to hurt us. On the contrary, we think the baby is going to be something special.”
Clove smiled. “Of course she is. She’s a Winchester ... though she’s going to be a Cornell.”
“She’s going to be a Winchester,” Aunt Tillie fired back. “All babies in this family carry the Winchester name.”
“Not this baby.” For the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, Clove stood up to Aunt Tillie. “Sam has a right to pass on his name to our baby.”
“Then make it Mitzi Cornell-Winchester,” Aunt Tillie said. “The Winchester name must be in there.”
“I kind of like the name Mitzi.” Clove adopted a far-off expression. “It’s pretty.”
“No,” Thistle and I answered at the same time.
Clove scowled. “You guys are no fun when it comes to naming babies. Sam and I have already talked about it. Whatever the baby’s first name ends up being, the last name will be Cornell. Winchester will be the middle name.”
“No.” Aunt Tillie stamped. “That’s a mistake.”
“Then it will be our mistake.”
Aunt Tillie opened her mouth again, but Mom silenced her with a look. “Clove and Sam have the right to name their baby. You don’t get a say.”
“If this isn’t about naming the baby, what is it about?” Clove demanded. “If you’re not worried that the baby is trying to kill Bay, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that the baby is much stronger than we anticipated,” Marnie replied, perching on the arm of Clove’s chair and stroking her head. They looked like clones of one another. I knew exactly how Clove would look in twenty-five years. It was eerie.
“Why is that bad?” Clove whined. “Bay is much stronger than anybody thought she would be when she was little.”
“We’re not saying it’s bad,” Mom insisted. “Stop jumping to the worst possible conclusions, Clove. We’re saying we have to deal with it.”
Clove’s face was blank. “What do you mean?”
“We love you,” Marnie started. “We love you very much.”
Clove’s lower lip started to tremble. “Am I dying?”
“Oh, you guys are worse at this than Bay and I would’ve been,” Thistle snapped. She leaned over, resting her hands on her knees, and stared directly into Clove’s eyes. “You have to have the baby here.”
Clove immediately balked. “No way. I’m not doing a home birth. I want to go to the hospital, where there are drugs and epidurals.”
“That’s not an option.” Thistle said. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but here it is: You have to have the baby here in case it’s born in glowing light or somehow zings someone with magic during the birth. We can’t explain a glowing baby to random nurses and doctors.”
“No!” Clove vehemently shook her head. “I’m having the baby in the hospital. I need drugs.”
“Drugs aren’t good for the baby,” Marnie pointed out.
“Who cares?” Clove was adamant. “Drugs are good for mommy. If I have a stoned baby for three days, it will be fine. She’ll survive.”
“You’ll survive a home birth,” Mom said. “Some of the covens have wonderful midwives. We’ll get you the very best.”
“Absolutely not.” Enraged, Clove hopped to her feet. I hadn’t seen her move that fast in weeks. “I am not having this baby at home. It’s not going to happen.”
“You are.” Mom folded her arms over her chest. “We can’t risk the baby doing something that draws attention at the hospital. What if somebody wants to swoop in and study it? Do you want your baby turned into a lab rat?”
Clove worked her jaw. “No. But I need drugs.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Aunt Tillie said with a hand wave. “I have plenty of pot. We’ll just get you stoned.” She risked a glance at a disapproving Chief Terry. “It’s legal now. You can’t stop us.”
“I don’t want to get stoned,” Clove whined. “I want an epidural. I don’t want to feel it.”
“I had an epidural,” Twila noted. “I still felt it. Have you seen the size of Thistle’s head?” She pointed for emphasis. “Even with an epidural, you’re going to feel that.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Thistle said dryly. She was calm when she held out her hands to Clove. “I know you’re upset about this, but it really is the best thing. You won’t remember the pain.”
“Oh, I hate this.” Clove threw herself on the couch and started to cry, big sobs wracking her body. “My life is over. You guys have taken my only hope.”
“Well, that’s not dramatic or anything,” Aunt Tillie drawled.
“You haven’t even given birth, you crazy old bat,” Clove hissed. “What do you know?”
I pressed my lips together and turned, surprised to find that Landon had moved to my side. “Things are getting heavy,” I noted.
“So I see.” He brushed his fingers against my cheek and held them up so I could see the pads were wet. “You’re crying.”
I wasn’t as bothered about the fact as I should’ve been. “It’s because Clove is crying.”
“I hope you don’t feel the other things Clove feels when she’s in labor and can’t control her magic or emotions.”
Oh, well, crap. I hadn’t even considered that. “We need to find a midwife who can give her an epidural,” I said, my voice carrying across the room.
“I’m right there with you.” Thistle looked horrified at the thought. “I am not going through labor with her and getting nothing out of it.”
“Oh, shut up over there,” Mom warned. She focused on Clove. “You guys are being ridiculous babies.”
She was right, but still ... . I met Landon’s gaze. “If I have to go through labor I’m going to be really angry.”
“You’re not the only one. I feel your pain too, remember?”
“Right.” I rolled my neck, my eyes falling on the window of the door. There were no shades present, something I was relieved about, but I was reminded that we had more than one thing to worry about. “We need to have a seance on the bluff tonight.”
“What?” Mom’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you kidding me? Why would we want to have a seance now?”
“We need to talk to those shades, and I think we’re going to need a lot of magic to force them to come to us.”
“But ... ,” Mom began to protest.
“We have to do it,” Landon insisted. “The sooner we get rid of these shades, the sooner you guys can come up with a plan for Clove ... and I would prefer the plan not involve torturing my future wife in the process.”
Mom looked tired as she stroked Clove’s hair. “We’ll conduct a seance. You’re the expert.”
I didn’t feel like an expert, but we were running out of time. Something had to be done before somebody else was hurt. I didn’t want it to be a member of my family.
“Dusk,” I said. “Everybody needs to be there.”
22
Twenty-Two
I was nervous when it was time to head out to the bluff. I hadn’t eaten much, which bothered Landon, but my stomach was too jittery to inhale the meatloaf my mother and aunts had cooked.
“We’ll have cake in bed when this is done,” Landon said as we walked to the bluff. Everybody
else had already left the inn. “We’ll be naked when we eat it.”
A laugh bubbled up, and I was relieved it cut through some of the tension. “That sounds like a plan.”
He caught my hand before we crested the final hill. “Don’t do anything crazy.”
“Like what?”
“Like ... put yourself in danger.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Make sure you are.” He squeezed my hand. Hard. “Remember that proposal I gave you out here.”
“The one that no man will ever be able to match,” I teased.
“I meant every word. I want you to be you. I accept the witchy stuff. I need you to not die on me. It will break me.”
“I won’t die on you.” I meant it. “This is a conversation, nothing more.”
He brushed my hair away and pressed his forehead against mine. “We need answers and you’re the one who is going to get them for us. I just don’t want things to get crazy.”
“Aunt Tillie will be with us. It’s going to get crazy.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He gave me a kiss and then resumed walking. “Let’s do this.”
CANDLES LIGHTED THE BLUFF. Clove, with Sam standing as her protector, stood away from the circle.
Mom, Thistle and Marnie painted lines on the ground with a can of spray paint. I wasn’t familiar with the design, something Aunt Tillie had come up with.
“Are we ready?”
Mom lifted her eyes and nodded. “As ready as we’re going to get.”
“The older witches will hold a circle behind us,” Aunt Tillie explained. “You and I will be at the center. Clove will be left out of it completely.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“What did she say that makes sense?” Thistle demanded. “She just lumped me in with the old witches.”
“Hey!” Mom’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I’m not old. I’m in my prime.”
“I’m in my prime,” Aunt Tillie said. “You need to get over yourself. We all have a job to do. Bay is at the center. It’s her show.”
“Yes, Bay is the center of all our worlds these days,” Thistle drawled. “I can’t tell you how much I love it when my life revolves around her.”
“Shut up,” Landon muttered, drawing Thistle’s glare.
“Don’t tell me to shut up!”
Marcus, who had been standing with Sam and Clove, moved to Thistle’s side. He was the calmest member of our family, the only one who preferred avoiding fights, and was eager to stop us from falling apart now. “Let’s not do this,” he suggested. “There’s no need to fight.”
“There’s always a need to fight,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “This particular fight is stupid, though,” she added. “We’re here for a reason.”
I blew out a sigh and released Landon’s hand. “You should go stand with Chief Terry and Hannah.”
“I would rather stick with you,” he said.
“I know, but ... it’s safer for you to be with them, away from the circle.”
“If it’s safe enough for you to be in the circle, then it’s safe enough for me.” The tilt of his chin told me he wasn’t going to back down. “I think I should be with the center-of-the-world group.”
Aunt Tillie snorted. “Only you would call it that.”
“I’m in this, so I’m going to stand with you.”
“How thrilling for all of us,” Aunt Tillie drawled, her eye roll pronounced. “Do what you want. Let’s get moving. I want to stream The Mandalorian before bed tonight. Baby Yoda is my spirit animal.”
Somehow that seemed fitting. “Okay. Let’s get to it.”
Hannah cleared her throat from her spot near Clove and Sam. “Um ... I don’t want to be the newb here, but what exactly is going to happen?”
I had to tug on my limited patience to stop myself from yelling at her to shut up and watch. My nerves were frayed enough that I might’ve lost it. Instead, I offered her a wan smile. She was trying to help, which meant that it was unnecessary to fly off the handle.
“It’s a ritual,” I explained, searching for the right words. “This is a ghost trap.” I pointed to the lines that had been painted on the ground. “We’re not dealing with normal ghosts, but this should still work as a trap.”
“We’ll pool our magic,” Aunt Tillie said. “Bay is a necromancer. She should be able to call the shades to the circle. They’ll be trapped here as long as we want.”
“Or as long as the magic holds out,” I added.
“And then what?” Hannah’s face was blank. “What do you expect to happen?”
“We need answers.” I thought of Amelia’s face in the upstairs window. “There’s a human component to what’s happening in Hemlock Cove. We need to know who is involved so we can break whatever spell has been cast and send these shades on their way.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“We don’t really understand either,” Mom said. “Bay is trying to get answers. We can’t come up with a plan of attack until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“I get that part.” Hannah’s expression was strained. “I don’t understand how Bay can call the shades here whether they want to come or not. Why not just destroy them now and put an end to them?”
“I don’t know how to do that,” I said. “I can call ghosts. I can order them around. Shades are different. I’m not sure they’ll follow my commands.”
“Then how do you know you’ll be able to call them here?”
“We don’t,” Thistle replied. “But if we do manage it, we’ll be able to trap them here for at least a little bit. They’ll fight the effort. We’ll ask questions and hopefully they’ll answer. Then they’ll either escape or whoever created them will call them away. At least that’s what we think.”
“I see.” Hannah was thoughtful. “It all sounds very convoluted. I can’t believe you’re capable of any of this.”
“Sit back and enjoy the show,” Aunt Tillie said. “We’re masters at getting things done for a reason.”
She sounded more certain about what was about to happen than I felt. It didn’t matter. It was time. “Everybody get in position.”
Landon moved to stand behind Aunt Tillie and me as we stood just outside the circle. Thistle took one of the four corners with my mother and aunts. She looked angry — probably about being paired with an older generation — but she didn’t complain. She nodded when we made eye contact.
“Here we go.” Mom lifted her arms. “I call upon the power of the north. Bring strength, determination and resilience.”
Marnie was next. “I call upon the power of the east. Bring love, devotion and loyalty.”
Twila was third. “I call upon the power of the south. Bring grace, acceptance and peace.”
Thistle was last. “I call upon the power of the west. Bring anger, retribution and hate.”
Landon jerked, the last incantation confusing him. Shades were unhappy souls. They were angry, and we needed the anger.
“Now,” Aunt Tillie instructed.
I pressed my eyes shut and extended my hands. “Come,” I intoned, allowing the magic to roll off me.
I felt resistance straight away.
No.
We won’t come.
You can’t make us.
I was in no mood for games. “Come,” I repeated, expelling more magic. “You don’t have a choice.”
“What’s happening?” Landon demanded. “Why isn’t it working?”
“Chill out, drama queen,” Aunt Tillie instructed, closing her eyes. “They’re resisting.”
Hannah spoke from somewhere behind me. “I thought she was in control.”
“It’s different,” Clove said. “They’re not normal ghosts.”
I pushed the voices out of my head and focused on my task. The shades resisted, but they sounded fearful enough that I knew I would be able to maintain control of them if I exerted a little more effort. “Now!” I yelled when I felt another tug on my
magic.
A bright swirl of light appeared in the trap, four forms struggling against taking shape. Aunt Tillie lent her magic to mine and we trapped two of the shades. The other two escaped.
“Oh, holy ... .” Hannah was breathless. “There are ghosts here.”
Not ghosts, I wanted to tell her. What we had in front of us were different.
“Hello,” I said as the shades struggled against the invisible cage we’d conjured. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Oh, good grief.” Aunt Tillie made an exaggerated face. “Don’t play nice with them. Smack them around some.”
I ignored her and glanced between the faces of the dead. One of them — the female — looked familiar. “Do I know you?”
“Let me go!” She struggled mightily against her constraints but lacked the strength to break free.
“That’s Sandy Strawser,” Landon said. “You remember. I worked her case about six months ago. You saw the photos of the crime scene.”
I searched my memory. “You’re the woman who killed your children.” I vaguely remembered the story. “You said you thought they were possessed by demons.”
“That was a lie,” Landon insisted. “She drowned her children in the tub and claimed mental illness. We uncovered the fact that she was having an affair with a married man and he didn’t want to deal with children. She thought he would leave his wife if she killed her kids.”
Now it was all coming back to me. “She went in for an evaluation,” I said. “She tried to fool the professionals by acting out multiple personalities.”
“Yeah.” Landon’s lips twisted into a sneer. “When we questioned the guy she was seeing, he admitted to the affair. He said he was never going to leave his wife. He only said the thing about the kids in the first place because he thought it would get her to back off. He feared she would say something to his wife, so he tried to appease her ... and it backfired.”
“She died in prison?” I was trying to remember.
“The county jail,” Landon corrected. “She was found stabbed to death in her cell.” He grew quieter. “There was some mystery as to what happened to her. Some assumed one of the guards allowed another inmate into her cell to kill her. More than half her blood was missing.”
Prelude to a Witch Page 21