A Breath of Witchy Air

by Amanda M. Lee

“I live in the guesthouse,” Landon clarified, tilting his head to study the kids at the end of the table. Not one of them bothered to look up from his or her phone. It was as if they were in a different world. “It’s about a five-minute walk from here.”

  “Why don’t you just stay here?” Ashton asked, gravy pooling at the corners of his mouth as he talked while chewing. “I think this place would be comfortable. I mean … you have all these chicks here to do your laundry and stuff. That’s my idea of the perfect life.”

  “Of course it is, Upchuck,” Thistle shot back. “Women are only here to do your bidding, right?”

  “I’m going to curse the life out of you later, Thistle, but good one,” Aunt Tillie said.

  Ashton made a face. “You ladies are reading this situation wrong. I don’t have anything against women. You keep acting as if I do, but I don’t.”

  “Who has something against women?” Sam stopped inhaling food long enough to look around and survey the table. “What am I missing?”

  “Nothing.” Clove patted his arm. “You’re not missing anything … except the fact that Thistle stole my tiara. Other than that, everything is normal. Eat your dinner.”

  “Oh, shut up about the stupid tiara,” Thistle snapped. “If you’d secured it from the beginning, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

  “What tiara?” one of the boys at the table asked, raising his head. “Was it the Tiara of Infinite Truth or the Crown of Everlasting Glory?”

  “You can’t get the crown unless you make it to level forty-two and no one has made it that far yet,” one of the other young men countered. “It had to be the Tiara of Infinite Truth.”

  “I don’t think it had a name,” Clove said. “It was just a tiara.”

  “Wait … are you talking about the tiara you pick up when you first start the game?” the first man asked.

  Clove nodded. “It was pink and pretty.”

  “Ugh. It’s also worthless. It doesn’t have any powers.”

  “I don’t care about powers.” Clove screwed up her face into a disgusted look. “I want a pretty tiara and a pet unicorn. Who cares about powers?”

  “You can’t win battles without powers.”

  “Why would I want to win a battle?”

  The guy, who had dark floppy hair and a narrow face, blasted our end of the table with an incredulous look. “Is she for real?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Aunt Tillie replied. “That’s why she’ll never win the game.”

  “Ugh. I’m done talking for the night,” Clove muttered, focusing on her plate.

  “Good,” Thistle fired back. “Maybe now you’ll stop complaining about that stupid tiara.”

  “I wish everyone would stop complaining about everything to do with that game,” Mom muttered.

  She wasn’t the only one. I dumped a healthy amount of gravy on my mashed potatoes and pork while trying to ignore the fact that Ashton made smacking sounds with his lips as he ate. Perhaps the noise was amplified by the fact that I vigorously disliked him, but every time he made a chewing sound I wanted to throttle him.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Marnie suggested, working overtime to calm the mood around the table. “How is everyone enjoying their new living arrangements?”

  “I’m still unpacking,” Thistle replied.

  “You could be done if you didn’t spend the entire day playing that game,” Marcus pointed out.

  “And you could sleep on the couch tonight if you bring that up again.”

  I shoveled mashed potatoes into my mouth rather than answer, which left Landon in the hot seat.

  “I’m enjoying the new arrangement immensely,” he said after a beat. “It’s nice and quiet now that Thistle’s not there. It’s also cleaner, because no one is leaving bras and underwear hanging over the shower rod.”

  “I did that, like, once,” Thistle countered. “I only did it to irritate you anyway, so it doesn’t count.”

  “I would totally enjoy it if you left your bra and panties in my room,” Ashton offered.

  Marcus’s face twisted. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

  Ashton’s cheeks flooded with color. “Oh, well, it was nothing bad. I just meant that … um … she seems nice and all, and I wouldn’t mind seeing her bra. Wait! That came out worse.”

  “Definitely worse,” Landon agreed.

  “You might want to focus on your food rather than talking, Upchuck,” Aunt Tillie offered. “Just a suggestion.”

  “Let’s all focus on our food,” Landon suggested.

  “I agree.” Mom clinked her fork hard against her plate. “Anything is better than talking about that stupid game.”

  “You said the game wasn’t that bad because it meant Aunt Tillie and Thistle would be fighting online rather than in person,” I reminded her.

  “And your point would be?”

  “You changed your mind pretty fast.”

  “Yes, well … why wouldn’t I?” Mom gestured toward the end of the table, something she never would’ve considered doing under normal circumstances because it could easily be construed as rude. The kids were intent on their phones and ignoring the conversation, so it ultimately didn’t matter.

  “It’s one of those things that will burn bright for a bit and then flame out,” Ashton volunteered. I think he was trying to be helpful – he clearly wasn’t used to so much female hostility around one table – but he came off as a know-it-all.

  “Oh, good, he’s mansplaining to you, Aunt Winnie,” Thistle offered. “Aren’t you glad he’s around to do that?”

  “Mansplaining?” Mom furrowed her brow. “What’s that?”

  “It’s when a man explains something in a condescending manner,” Twila volunteered. “I heard them talking about it on The View the other day.”

  “It’s basically whenever a man opens his mouth,” Aunt Tillie added.

  “Thank you so much for that,” Landon groused.

  “I’m not sorry.” Aunt Tillie met his gaze evenly. “You are a man and you talk down to me all the time.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do, too.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do, too.”

  “Bay, will you tell her I don’t talk down to her?”

  Instead of answering I shoved more food in my mouth. This meal felt as if it would go on forever.

  “This is a really tough room,” Ashton said once the table descended into silence. “I’m starting to think you guys don’t like me.”

  Aunt Tillie deadpanned: “What was your first clue?”

  LANDON LED THE WAY to the guesthouse after dinner. I followed in my car and we parked next to each other in the driveway. The meal had remained uncomfortable for the duration – even getting worse at times, if you can believe that – and I wanted nothing more than a long bath and an early bedtime.

  Landon, apparently, had other plans.

  “Are you going to pout all night or let me have it?” He slowed his pace as I trudged up the driveway.

  “I’m not pouting.”

  “You’re doing something pretty close to pouting.”

  “I don’t mean to. I’m not angry or anything.”

  “You’re acting angry.”

  I heaved out a sigh and turned to face him. “I don’t like him. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

  “You don’t have to like him. I knew before he arrived you wouldn’t like him. You were picturing some young slacker with modern sensibilities, perhaps a geek with a soft streak. That’s not what you got, but I’m not to blame for that.”

  The argument caught me off guard. “Why would I blame you for that?”

  Landon held his hands out and shrugged. “You tell me.”

  “I’m not angry because he’s here. I know he’s important to the case. I get that. I’m angry because he’s a jerk.”

  “And you were expecting an enlightened young genius, right?”

  “That sounds a little stereotypical on my
part, but yes. I thought he’d show up eager to work and instantly find a common thread between these girls. Instead, he was all about himself … and that stupid suit … and he won’t shut his mouth.”

  Landon chuckled, amused. “He’s a jerk. I don’t think he realizes it.”

  “Well, he should.”

  “You’re upset because I said you would have to go if you couldn’t get along with him, aren’t you?”

  Was I? “Maybe a little,” I hedged. “I understand you have a job to do, and I won’t get in the way of that. I’m more upset that you didn’t tell him I wasn’t the secretary.”

  “I did tell him. I had a long talk with him after you left.”

  “You should have told him in front of me so I could laugh and point.”

  “That would’ve derailed half the afternoon,” Landon pointed out. “You’re the one insisting that we need to solve this one fast. I’m trying to do right by those girls.”

  “I know.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I told him that he was on his own with your family,” Landon offered. “He seemed to think I was exaggerating, but one meal with Aunt Tillie, Thistle and your mother was enough to teach him otherwise.

  “I might not have stepped in as fast as you would’ve liked in Chief Terry’s office, but I didn’t step in to save him from your family either,” he continued. “That has to count for something.”

  “It does.” I pressed my lips together in a small smile, as the moon illuminated Landon’s handsome face. The light bounced off the snow and created a moody glow that eroded the leading edge of annoyance I’d been carrying around with me all night. “I’m not angry with you. I never was.”

  “No, but I think you might’ve been a bit disappointed.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  Landon snickered as he shook his head. “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t like him.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

  “He’s a sexist pig.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me.”

  “I’m the boss, not a secretary.”

  Landon broke out in a full grin. “I knew that was it.” He took a step in my direction, the intent to kiss away my bad mood evident on his face, when something clanged in the back of my head and caused me to straighten my shoulders. Whispering. I heard whispering. Multiple voices at once, all issuing the same warning.

  I stared hard into the night, my heart tripping a beat as I recognized something – although I had no idea what – moving fast in the darkness.

  “Get down!”

  Landon moved as if in slow motion. He read the change in my stance almost immediately. His initial reaction was to protect me – that was always his first instinct – but he moved to his left instead and when the blow came it glanced off his shoulder rather than slamming into his head.

  “Oomph.” Landon fell to the side, landing in a snow bank. He immediately moved to stand, but as he struggled to find his balance he crumpled in the snow.

  I kept my eyes on the figure that appeared out of the darkness. What I initially thought was a baseball bat actually looked to be a tree branch, and the man – I was almost positive it was a man due to the shadow’s shoulders – clutched the branch as if it were a weapon.

  “Who are you?”

  “Bay, move away from him,” Landon ordered, fighting his way to his knees. He was clearly off his game from the blow but he would fight to get to me no matter what. I never doubted that.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured him, staring at the shadow for a long beat. It was completely dark outside, but I could distinguish the occasional hard edge thanks to the moon and snow. I squinted to make out facial features, but all I saw was darkness. It made me think he wore a black balaclava. “Who are you?”

  The shadow didn’t respond.

  “Bay, move away from him.” Landon tried yet again to regain his footing, finally managing to do it even though he lurched to the side and almost toppled in the opposite direction. His balance was off and he was clearly in a great deal of pain.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, confused. “What are you going to do?”

  “Bay!” Landon took a lurching step in my direction. “Run! Why won’t you run?”

  As if snapping out of a trance, the figure shifted to look at Landon. It was almost as if he didn’t care about me. Of course, that could’ve been my inner feminist coming out to play. I was in a bad mood thanks to one particular man, and I was willing to take it out on multiple others if it meant getting revenge.

  “Landon!” I took a step forward, intent on protecting him, but when the shadowy figure turned in my direction I read an imminent change of intent. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned, extending a gloved finger. “You won’t like what happens if you do.”

  “Bay, I mean it!” Landon sounded desperate as the figure raised the tree branch and brandished it in my direction. “Run! Get away from here! Lock yourself in the house.”

  I ignored him and remained focused on my adversary. “You should run. This won’t end well for you otherwise.”

  Landon continued barking my name as he walked toward me. He was obviously in pain, so it was slow going.

  “This is your last warning,” I shouted as the figure lifted the tree branch and began swinging it in my direction.

  I reacted out of instinct. Aunt Tillie had taught us multiple protection spells when we were kids. We learned them at the time – mostly to make her happy – and then immediately forgot them. She said we were dabblers, not true practitioners.

  I was about to test her pronouncement.

  I pulled one of the protection spells from the depths of my memory and cast it quickly. “Combustio.”

  The single word gritted out, as if smashing against gravel before running free.

  The figure jerked back, and even though I couldn’t see facial features I could read surprise in his reaction. He felt it, although the spell wasn’t as strong as it should be. I needed more power if I expected this to work.

  I screwed up my courage and gripped my hands into fists at my side. “Combustio!” I repeated, this time bellowing the word.

  There was no mistaking the shadow’s reaction this time. He jerked, as if on fire, and dropped the branch as he grabbed his midriff. He didn’t speak, or even cry out, but he did gasp … and then exhaled heavily, as if he were a balloon and someone was slowly letting the air out of him.

  I tried one final time. “Combustio!”

  This time I elicited a scream, and it was high and shrill enough to cut through the night. It was so loud and shrill it could’ve come from a man or a woman, although I remained convinced we were dealing with a man. The stranger didn’t stick around to see what I’d do next, fleeing into the woods to the east of the guesthouse. I heard him careening through the trees – perhaps even falling once – and then everything went silent.

  I hurried to Landon’s side and supported the bulk of his weight as I moved us toward the guesthouse.

  “Are you okay?” Concern washed through me. “Do I need to call an ambulance?”

  “You need to call a hearse.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for you.” Landon’s eyes glittered under the moonlight as I gazed into his face. “I’m going to kill you for being so stupid. When I tell you to run, you run.”

  I was in no mood for an argument. “When you tell me to run and leave you hurt, I’m always going to do the opposite.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. You can live.” Landon groaned as I leaned him against the wall next to the door and hunted for my keys. “That was still a stupid thing to do.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no sign of our assailant. “What do you think he wanted?”

  “You,” Landon answered without hesitation. “He attacked me first because he wanted me out of the way. His primary goal was to get to you.”


  “Huh. I guess he underestimated us, eh?”

  Landon smirked as he shook his head. “You. He underestimated you. I would’ve been knocked out from the start if you hadn’t warned me. How did you do that, by the way? How could you see him from so far away?”

  People whispered a warning in my head, which I didn’t say because it sounded crazy. “I didn’t see him. I sensed him.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded.

  “Witches, man. I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  I mustered a heartfelt grin. “Word. Witches be crazy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Get us inside. I want to lock the door and call Chief Terry.”

  “And I want to see your shoulder.”

  “Maybe we can do both at the same time.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Twenty-One

  Landon was sore the next day. Once I got his shirt off and saw the bruise darkening his upper body I wanted to call the paramedics. Landon called Chief Terry instead. And, because he’s a man and understood Landon’s absolute determination not to go to the hospital, he agreed the injury wasn’t bad and told me I was being a Nervous Nellie.

  I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Here.” I pressed a fresh cold compress to Landon’s shoulder as he sat at our small kitchen table, doing my best to ignore the way he groaned as I ran my hand over the bruised flesh. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly are you hurt?”

  “Give me a kiss.”

  The conversational shift caught me off guard. “What?”

  “Give me a kiss.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that will turn my seven pain into a two pain.” Landon’s grin was cheeky as I rolled my eyes. “What? I’m injured. I’m allowed to be as schmaltzy as I want to be as long as it leads to sexual favors when I’m feeling better.”

  “I wouldn’t say that to anyone in my family if I were you. They already think you’re a pervert.” I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth even though I didn’t want to encourage him. “You’re okay, right?” The question came out more seriously than I envisioned.

  “I am.” Landon briefly rested his forehead against mine before chuckling. “It’s weird. I was the first one to get hurt in this relationship, but I’ve been relatively unscathed since. After that first night, you’ve always been the one to get hurt.”