“She was killed by someone who used her blood to feed,” I said. “Another shade.”
“Pretty much,” Landon confirmed. “Knowing her, she probably volunteered for it because she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in prison.”
That made sense. “What happened to the guy she was having an affair with? He died under mysterious circumstances a few weeks later.”
Landon rolled his neck until it cracked. “He had a farm accident, fell on a thresher.”
“Which means someone could’ve killed him the same way and tried to cover it up,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Is this him?”
Landon shook his head. “I don’t know who that is.”
Honestly, it didn’t matter. I understood the sort of people we were dealing with. Only dark souls agreed to become shades. And they attracted other shades.
“I guess it doesn’t matter.” I folded my arms across my chest and regarded the male shade with a thin-lipped grimace. “We would like to chat with you.”
“I don’t answer to you,” he growled, throwing himself against the walls of the trap in an attempt to break free.
“It won’t last long,” Aunt Tillie noted, stooping to study the lines on the ground. “They’re either too strong or the trap is too weak.”
“Maybe both,” I acknowledged, wetting my lips. “Who is your master?” I asked.
“We don’t answer to you,” the male shade repeated. He threw himself against the wall, barely taking a moment to regroup before doing it again, eliciting sparks.
Landon moved closer to me. “Is that normal?”
Nothing about this situation was normal. “Not really.”
“Then let them go.”
He had to be joking. “Why would I do that?”
“So nobody gets hurt.”
“It will be fine,” I reassured him, returning my focus to the shade. “You have a master. I want to know who it is.”
“Did you hear that?” Sandy cackled. “She wants to know who our master is. Like we’re just going to tell her.”
“You will tell me.” I generated a gust of magic and sent it toward her. She went rigid when it hit. “You’re living under different rules than I am,” I said. “I can do whatever I want. You’re trapped.”
“Not for long.” The male shade threw himself against the cage walls again. This time I saw the trap flicker. It held, but another blow or two and the shades would escape. I stepped into the cage with the shades and caught the man by the throat, using my left hand to exert control on the female and pin her against the cage walls.
“What’s happening?” Sandy whimpered as she fought against the magic. “What is this?”
“Witches,” the man barked. “They’re unholy witches.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Aunt Tillie drawled.
I ignored the banter. “Who is your master? Show me!” I burrowed into the shade’s mind, forcing my way through layers of memory and hatred. My head felt light with the flashes I saw, my shoulders heavy with the weight of the horror. I kept digging.
“Bay!” Landon tried to jump over the barriers of the trap but Aunt Tillie stopped him with a wave of her hand, the magic knocking him sideways.
“She’s the only one who can go in there.” Aunt Tillie said. “The shades will kill you.”
“Get her out!” he demanded.
“Chill out,” Aunt Tillie ordered.
“Get her out!”
I heard the panic in his voice but was beyond helping him at the moment. I only had a short amount of time before the shades would escape.
“Tell me who your master is,” I ordered, staring hard into the shade’s eyes. There was nothing familiar about him and yet I couldn’t help feeling as if I should know him. “Someone started this chain of events. I want to know who.”
Defiance lit his eyes and he fought my magic.
“Give me something!” I poured more magic into him, probably more than was wise, and he began to fray.
“It’s too late,” he cackled maniacally as he dissipated. “You can’t hold us. You don’t have the strength.”
As frustrating as it was to admit, I had no choice but to release him. He was gone within a split-second, Sandy following close behind. Once they were gone, all I heard were whispers and gasps behind me … and the beating of my own heart.
“Son of a Goddess!” I viciously swore and kicked the nearest candle, ignoring the look of reproval from my mother. I found Landon studying me with a mixture of fury and sympathy. “Are you going to yell?”
He shook his head. “I kind of want to but I don’t think that will help.”
“Likely not,” I agreed. “Still, if you want to yell, I have it coming.”
He nodded in agreement and then crossed to me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his cheek on my forehead. “We’re going to fight about this eventually.”
“But not today.”
“Not today,” he agreed. “You don’t need any additional strain.”
He kissed my forehead, swaying as the area behind us exploded in uninhibited chatter. I tuned them out and focused on the sound of his heartbeat. Finally, one voice rose about the din.
“So … wine party?” Aunt Tillie asked.
Mom smiled at her. “You read my mind.”
And just like that the mood on the bluff shifted from bitter disappointment to relaxed amusement.
I cast one more look to where the shades had been trapped and then nodded at Landon’s unasked question.
“We might as well get drunk,” I conceded. “We don’t have anything else going for us right now.”
Landon slipped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. “We have each other.”
I smiled. “Forever and always, right?”
“Yup. Forever and always.”
23
Twenty-Three
“I’m dying.”
I kept the covers wrapped over my head the next morning, refusing to even peek out when I felt Landon rustling next to me.
“Me, too.” His voice sounded raspy.
I lay still and allowed my body to register the myriad complaints it would lodge over the upcoming hours. “My arm hurts,” I realized, finally pulling the covers down to take a look. I frowned at the bruise near my elbow. “Did I get in a fight last night?”
Landon chuckled. “I don’t believe so.” He rolled to look, his eyes going dark when he saw the mark. “Did the shades do that?”
“The shades didn’t lay a hand on me,” I reminded him.
“You laid a hand on them.”
“I did.”
“I don’t believe that was part of the plan.” His tone was accusatory.
“Landon, we had limited time.” I was in no mood for an argument. “I had to do what I had to do. As you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’re bruised,” he groused, gently taking my arm. “These look like fingerprints, as if somebody grabbed you.”
I let the memories of our drunken bluff post-seance party wash over me. “I think it was Thistle. Aunt Tillie was chasing her with promises of a bloating curse and she was trying to get away. I vaguely remember Thistle trying to hide behind me.”
Landon snorted and rolled to his back. “Now that you mention it, I remember that as well. I can’t believe she grabbed you that hard.”
“I’m a delicate flower. I bruise easily.”
“I know.” He slipped his arm under my waist and tugged until my head was on his shoulder. “I don’t like it.”
“I think you would be happiest if I was never hurt.”
“Yes.”
“This is just a minor thing.”
“The shades aren’t.” Now that we weren’t trapped in a haze of drunkenness thanks to Aunt Tillie’s wine, he was ready to voice his opinion on what happened the previous evening.
“I don’t like that you barreled into that circle, Bay.”
I had no patience, so my respons
e was edgier than I would’ve liked. “What should I have done? They were going to escape. I had to make use of the time we had.”
“Let them escape.”
“We need to know why they’re here, who is controlling them, what their ultimate goal is. We need answers. I tried to get them.”
“Is it possible they’re not being controlled?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe they’re here of their own volition. Maybe they’re just in the mood to haunt us and we should be focused on eradicating them rather than hunting them.”
“That doesn’t feel right.”
“What does feel right? It seems the rules regarding shades vary. They’re not like Floyd.”
I shook my head. “Floyd was a poltergeist.”
“Which is fancy speak for a really angry ghost.”
“Pretty much. He was more powerful than a normal ghost, fueled by rage. Shades are fueled by darkness.” I ran my fingers over Landon’s bare chest. I didn’t even remember getting undressed for bed the previous evening. Looking around the bed, it was obvious we’d shed our clothes walking through the bedroom and just fell where we landed. That was also the power of Aunt Tillie’s wine. “Sandy Strawser was there last night,” I reminded him. “She was an evil woman. Her essence was coveted by someone to use as a weapon.”
“How can you be certain of that?”
I shrugged. “It’s just a feeling, Landon. That’s all we have to go on right now. I’m doing the best that I can.”
“I’m not giving you crap for it.”
“You’re not happy with what happened last night.”
“Because I love you. I need to keep you in my life forever. I don’t question your instincts. I just ... can’t stomach the idea of losing you.”
“You won’t lose me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because some things are meant to be. I firmly believe we were always meant to find one another. That’s why we crossed paths as kids. That’s why we found one another at the right time as adults. I think if we didn’t find one another at the corn maze that day we would’ve found each other at a different time.
“Things worked out exactly as they should,” I continued. “Even though I thought you were a criminal hanging out with other criminals, I was drawn to you. I felt this incredible sense of ... yearning ... whenever I looked at you.”
I felt his lips curve against my forehead. “I felt it, too. I looked at you and wanted something I’d never wanted before. Hannah told you that I was dedicated to the job above all else. That changed when I met you.”
“That’s because I’m awesome.”
He laughed, as I’d hoped he would. I hated it when he was too serious. “You’re definitely awesome. You still have to be careful. These new powers of yours are helpful and I’m glad you have them, but I want you to tread lightly, Bay. You’re not omnipotent.”
“Nobody is. Well, Aunt Tillie thinks she is.”
“Eventually we’ll have a kid or two and I’ll be angry forever if you’re not around to raise little witches with me. We both know I’m going to be an indulgent father. Our kids will be so spoiled nobody will be able to tolerate them if you’re not around to play bad cop.”
I glared at him. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s not meant to be funny. Somebody has to be the disciplinarian.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ve got a lot of your mother in you.”
“That doesn’t seem fair ... and it might be the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
This time his laugh was raucous. “Fine. We’ll take turns being bad cop. I need you with me to do it.”
“Landon, I have no intention of leaving you.” I meant it. “I knew I would be okay last night. You don’t have to worry about me being reckless. I’m the good one in this family.”
He tightened his arms around me. “That’s not saying much.”
“No, but it’s true. I’m always going to come home to you.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips against my forehead. “I have big plans for us. I see a fat baby or two in our future. I see trips ... and retirement ... and adventures. I can’t do all of that alone.”
And that, I realized, was his true worry. “You won’t be alone. Even if something happens to me — and it won’t — you’ll never be alone. You’ll always have my family … and yours.”
“That’s not enough. I need you.”
I blamed the hangover for the tears pricking the back of my eyes. “I need you, too.”
“Of course you do. I’m a catch.”
I snorted. “And humble.”
“Yeah, well ... humbleness is overrated.” He pressed his lips to mine and sighed. “I’ll defer to you on this because you’re the expert. Just ... be careful. Something feels off about this entire situation.”
“I agree. We need to start breaking this down.”
“We need breakfast first.” He dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “That’s the only thing that’s going to kill this hangover. We also need to check on Hannah. She’s not used to the potency of Aunt Tillie’s wine. She was sucking it down last night.”
“We warned her.” I smiled at the memory. “I believe you told her a story about tiny soldiers trying to explode your brain from the inside the first time you got drunk on the wine.”
“That was right before Aunt Tillie convinced her to strip naked and dance on the bluff.”
I’d forgotten about that. “She’s going to be embarrassed. Thankfully you and Chief Terry were gentlemen and didn’t look.”
“I’m always a gentleman.”
“You’re ... something.” I poked his side. “Come on. We should shower and head up. Now that you’ve reminded me of the naked dancing, I think it’s best we’re there to greet Hannah. She’s going to be having a rough morning, and Aunt Tillie is likely to make it worse.”
Landon’s smile grew wider. “We can always count on Aunt Tillie for that.”
“She’s a professional,” I agreed.
THE DINING ROOM WAS FULL WHEN WE finally made it to the inn. Landon wisely filled travel mugs with coffee for the walk, so we’d managed to take the edge off before we joined the others. But the din from the laughing guests agitated my already brewing headache.
“We were starting to wonder if you were going to join us,” Mom chastised as we sat in our usual spots. “You’re late.”
I checked the clock on the wall. “We’re, like, three minutes late.”
“Late is late.” Mom looked to Landon. “Only those who are on time get bacon.”
“Don’t torture me,” Landon moaned as he poured glasses of juice for both of us. “I’m a man on the edge. I found my pants on the front porch. I don’t exactly remember how they got there.”
Chief Terry tossed him a dark look. “Don’t be gross.”
“I’m not being gross. We were way too drunk to do anything fun last night. I’m just confused about why I started stripping during the walk. I found my shoes on the driveway.”
“It’s the wine,” I said, glaring at Aunt Tillie. “The wine is evil.”
For her part, my great-aunt looked none the worse for wear. She was bright-eyed and eager as she mixed scrambled eggs with hash-browns and then forked it over toast. “Don’t blame the wine. It’s the drinker who is the problem, not the alcohol.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I focused on Hannah’s empty chair, my stomach doing an uneasy roll. “Has anybody seen her?”
Mom shook her head. “No, but I’m pretty sure she got sick last night.”
“She took over the bathroom on the second floor and we heard her puking through the door,” Chief Terry added. His eyes were glassy and unfocused. “I think she was there for half the night.”
“We should let her sleep it off,” Mom said. “I put aspirin and bottles of water outside her door.”
Landon rubbed his chin, debating. “Should we wake her? She does have a job to do.”
“Leave her be,” I replied. “We’re not even sure what’s going on. Until we’re absolutely certain that we need her, we should let her rest.”
“I agree with Bay,” Mom said as she sat. “The girl is new to Aunt Tillie’s wine. She’s going to wish she’d listened to us when we told her to stop. She’ll be worse than all of us.”
“I’m fine,” Aunt Tillie offered. “I feel great.”
“That’s because you’re evil and the wine doesn’t affect evil people like it does the rest of us,” Landon drawled. “By the way, there’s no reason to brag. It makes us like you less.”
Rather than be offended, Aunt Tillie grinned. “Aw, is ‘The Man’ feeling queasy this morning?”
“Shaky is more like it,” Landon replied. “I’ll be fine after breakfast.”
That was a bolder prediction than I was willing to make. “Give Hannah a few hours. We’re not even sure where to focus this morning. If we come across something that will help us, we’ll deal with it then.”
At the other end of the table, the guests who had checked in the previous day were sharing an intense conversation. They weren’t interested in what we were saying in the least.
“I like the kissing booth,” a younger man said. “How great is it that they have a booth set up for that?”
I flicked my eyes to my mother and found her shaking her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat to get the attention of the two couples. “I should probably make introductions. They fell by the wayside last evening.” She introduced everybody at our end of the table and then singled out the two couples. “This is Tony Sexton and his wife Samantha. They’re here on their fifth wedding anniversary from Grand Rapids.”
She turned to the other couple, who looked to be in their forties. “And this is Phyllis and Randy Hamilton. They came from Wisconsin. Apparently they’re all big fans of the festival downtown.”
“It’s amazing,” Samantha enthused, her eyes sparkling. “It’s so quaint. It’s a witch festival in a witch town. Who doesn’t love that?”
Aunt Tillie’s hand shot in the air.
Prelude to a Witch Page 22