All My Witches

by Amanda M. Lee

Landon flicked his eyes to me. “This world makes no sense. What kind of mobster doesn’t do anything illegal yet calls himself a mobster?”

  I shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t even know what a real mobster does.”

  “He kills people like Jimmy Hoffa,” Clove replied.

  “Oh, well, that answers that question.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. This world was already tiresome, and figuring out the rules was daunting. “Let’s just get out of here. We’ll go find the thing and go on from there.”

  “I thought you were going to a photo shoot,” Michael challenged.

  “I am. You must have misheard me.”

  “Oh, it happens.” Michael leaned forward and pinched my butt a second time, causing me to yelp. “I already miss you.”

  Landon was unbelievably close to losing his temper. “Don’t do that again!”

  “She’s my wife,” Michael fired back. “I can do whatever I want to her.”

  “No, you can’t. In fact … .”

  Marcus put a hand on Landon’s chest to keep him from throwing himself at Michael. “You’ll be playing into Aunt Tillie’s game if you do that. She expects you to pick a fight. Let’s get out of here. We’ll find the thing and take a look around. We need to explore if we’re going to figure out how to get out of here.”

  Landon’s chest heaved as he debated the logic behind Marcus’ words. Finally he blew out a sigh. “Fine. If he does it again, though, I’m totally breaking his hand.”

  “If he does it again, I’ll help you.”

  Michael, who was doing a bang-up job of pretending he wasn’t listening, reached out with his hand, causing me to shrink back from his busy fingers, but Thistle wisely slapped it away.

  “You are the dumbest mobster ever,” Thistle said. “How did you even get the job?”

  Michael pointed at his dimples. “You wouldn’t believe what these can accomplish.”

  “Well, at least you know who you are.”

  “And we need to know where we’re going,” Landon said. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t ever want to see this house again.”

  So let me get this straight … she’s pregnant with twins, but they each have different fathers? This sort of smut shouldn’t be allowed on television. I warned you girls about doing stuff like this, right? It’s how you get a reputation … and not a good one like I have. This is demented. It’s wrong. It’s so stupid. It’s … who is he? He’s hot. I like him. This show is absolutely wonderful.

  – Twila on soap ethics

  Five

  “I don’t like that guy.”

  Landon clutched my hand so tightly as we left the mansion that I thought he might break off my fingers.

  “Oh, suck it up, big guy,” Thistle chided. “We have bigger things to worry about than your testosterone-fueled ego.”

  Landon shot her a dark look. “Excuse me?”

  Thistle refused to back down. “You heard me. You don’t seem to understand how soap operas work, and that’s a detriment to us in this world. You need to get with the program.”

  “He pinched her butt … twice!”

  “Like Bay hasn’t had her butt pinched in the real world,” Thistle argued. “You need to let it go. We have other things to worry about.”

  “Like what?”

  “You saw the footage reel,” I interjected. “Aunt Tillie wanted us to see it. She wanted us to understand the rules.”

  “What rules?” Landon’s temper flared. “As far as I can tell, this world has no rules.”

  “It doesn’t have much logic,” Thistle corrected, “but as for rules … it has rules. For example, in this world Bay is married to a mobster, but she’s having an affair with you. You’re an undercover cop working to bring down Bay’s husband. How do you think that’s going to end?”

  “With me winning,” Landon answered without hesitation. “If he pinches her butt again, I’ll pinch his head off his neck.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Thistle waved off Landon’s threat and focused on me. “She’s going to use every soap trope in her arsenal. You spent more time with her watching soaps as a kid than I did. What were her favorites?”

  Oh, well, that was an interesting question. “I don’t know. She liked the wacky ones.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Landon muttered, rolling his eyes to the sky.

  “Which wacky ones?” Thistle pressed.

  “I don’t remember. There was one about an alien.”

  “An alien?” Landon was beside himself. “Why would a soap opera have aliens?”

  “Dude, you need to stop saying ‘soap opera’ that way,” Clove snapped. “The longer you’re derogatory about the genre, the more likely Aunt Tillie is to punish you beyond belief in this world. It will be much worse than Bay getting her butt pinched.”

  “She’s right,” I added. “You don’t understand soap operas. I’m not sure we do … at least not like Aunt Tillie. She’s going to throw everything she’s got at us. We need to be ready.”

  Landon pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Fine. You know more about what we’re going to face. What’s up first?”

  “The thing.”

  “What thing?”

  “Whatever thing Michael wants us to find,” I replied. “We have to figure out what it is. It’s very clearly part of the story.”

  “I don’t really care about Michael’s thing,” Landon shot back.

  “I thought he was handsome,” Clove announced, offering up a mischievous smile. “What is it with those dimples? What kind of mobster has dimples like that?”

  “He’s not a real mobster,” Landon argued. “I mean … how does he make his money? He doesn’t run drugs or move stolen merchandise. He doesn’t organize prostitution rings and employ pimps. How does he make his money?”

  “You don’t understand,” I challenged. “In this world he’s supposed to be a bad guy, but you root for him anyway. You’re not supposed to know what terrible things he does, because that makes rooting for him more difficult. It happens all the time on soaps.”

  “Whatever.” Landon crossed his arms over his chest and stared across the empty highway. There was absolutely no vehicle traffic, and it looked to be something of a condensed area. The mega-mansion was practically on top of the highway, which wasn’t exactly aesthetically pleasing. I couldn’t think too much about that, because I had other things to worry about.

  “Okay, what kind of thing could a mobster want?” Clove adopted a pragmatic tone. “Maybe it has something to do with whatever business he really does. We should’ve hung around long enough to figure out what that was.”

  “Please, if Michael pinched Bay’s butt one more time Landon was going to kill him, and then we would’ve found out what kind of jails they have in soap opera world,” Sam countered. “I think we’re better off figuring this out on our own.”

  “But what could it be?” Clove rubbed her forehead. “I just … I can’t think what a soap opera mobster would possibly want us to retrieve.”

  “It’s not about what he wants us to find,” Thistle corrected. “It’s about what Aunt Tillie wants us to find.”

  “Why do you say that?” Marcus asked. “Why would it be about what Aunt Tillie wants?”

  “Because she plays his mother in this reality, although her age means she should really be his grandmother, but we’ll let that slide,” Thistle replied. “These curses are always about Aunt Tillie. They’re about what she wants and propping up her ego.

  “We shouldn’t be thinking about what Michael wants,” she continued. “We should be thinking about what Aunt Tillie wants. She’ll simply bend the storyline to fit her needs.”

  “That’s smart thinking.” I scratched the back of my neck. “The little preview clip said Aunt Tillie had her fingers in a lot of pies, but her ultimate goal was to freeze the world so she could bring forth a group of mutant snow sharks. So, what item – or rather, items – would Aunt Tillie need to freeze the world?”
/>   “A death ray?” Landon was feeling snarky. “Don’t you use a death ray to freeze the world?”

  “No, you use diamonds,” Sam answered, taking everyone by surprise with his certainty. “Every time I’ve ever seen anyone build a freezing ray in books, movies or television, they’ve used diamonds. They used diamonds in the Batman comics and movies for Mr. Freeze. They used diamonds in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That’s always the answer in everything I’ve ever seen.”

  “Diamonds, huh?” I racked my brain. “Okay, that’s a place to start. Where would someone in a soap world keep diamonds?”

  “How about in the lost city of Zeton?” Landon asked.

  I knit my eyebrows. “Zeton? Where is Zeton?”

  Landon pointed across the way to where a large billboard sat next to an over-sized door, which was cut into the wall of what could only be described as a really lame mountain. Clove read the billboard out loud.

  “Welcome to the lost city of Zeton. We make the future look like the past. Get away from it all and embrace a whole new set of problems. And, oh, we have diamonds here.”

  “Well, that’s a subtle billboard,” Thistle said, making a face. “It’s as if she drew us a map.”

  “Soaps are never subtle,” I pointed out. “She did draw us a map. She clearly wants us to go to Zeton next.”

  Landon let loose a dramatic sigh. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record here, but why would a soap opera have a lost city under a mountain? That’s science fiction.”

  “I keep telling you that what you believe about soap operas isn’t true,” I argued. “They’re much more complex than you’re giving them credit for. Now, I won’t pretend they always make sense or you don’t have to swallow your disbelief to get into them, but they’re more than just people kissing during music montages.

  “Soaps sometimes handle big stories, like AIDS and rape,” I continued. “They do absurd things. You need to prepare yourself, because I have a feeling we’ll be dealing with a lot of crazy scenarios.”

  “My life has been a crazy scenario since I met you,” Landon grumbled.

  I knew he didn’t mean the comment as a jab, but I took it that way all the same. “I know I should probably apologize for this happening to us yet again, but … I’m not going to do it. I’m not sorry you’re stuck here with me. I would hate to do this one alone.”

  Landon’s expression softened. “I’m not sorry I’m stuck here with you either. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He pulled me forward and gave me a quick hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead before releasing me. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”

  I offered a wan smile. “We always do.”

  “So, let’s get moving.” Landon extended his hand. “The lost city of Zeton awaits. Oh, and by the way, I know I’ve threatened it before but I’m totally going to kill Aunt Tillie when I get my hands on her.”

  “I’m so going to help you,” Thistle growled. “That old lady won’t know what’s hit her when we get out of here. And, by the way, it’s going to be my fist hitting her. She’d better start running now.”

  “HUH.”

  The door to Zeton was large and ridiculous. It looked like the door to a Lord of the Rings set, which was rather fitting because we were walking into a mountain. Er, well, kind of.

  “Look at the walls.” Marcus stood next to the archway and ran his fingers over what should’ve been rock. It wasn’t rock, though. It was something else entirely. “It’s … well … I think it’s papier mâché. In fact, I think the entire mountain is made of papier mâché.”

  “Why would someone construct a mountain from papier mâché?” Landon challenged. “That seems like the worst material for construction like this.”

  “Soaps have limited budgets,” Thistle volunteered. “The sets are never expensive … or sometimes even believable. Practical sets, like hospitals and restaurants, look okay. Some of the others are less realistic.”

  “But papier mâché?” Landon shook his head. “Whatever. Let’s find this diamond we’re meant to claim and get the heck out of here. This place is creepy … and weird.” He narrowed his eyes as a woman with long red hair streamed past. She wore a lavender jumpsuit – something straight out of Star Trek – and the look she shot Marcus was nothing short of smoldering.

  “Are you new?”

  Marcus jolted at the question. “Um … we’re just checking out your setup to decide if we want to join the cause.”

  “Just out of curiosity, what is the cause?” I asked.

  The woman turned a serene expression in my direction. “We’re interested in pledging ourselves to the light and turning away from the darkness.”

  “That’s a bit vague,” Thistle noted. “What do you think that means?”

  “It’s probably a cult,” I supplied. “Aunt Tillie doesn’t know anything about real cults, so it’s likely she cherry-picked whatever she saw on television and created some weird approximation of what she thinks a cult should be.”

  “That probably explains why there’s an entire roomful of people over there doing what looks to be synchronized yoga,” Clove said, pointing toward a large gymnasium. There had to be at least thirty people inside, all wearing matching jumpsuits – this time in blue. They were stretching and contorting their bodies as if driven by an unseen force.

  “That’s creepy, huh?”

  Landon rubbed his hand over my back. “It is a little creepy. I doubt they’re a dangerous cult, though.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, look at their outfits.” Landon flashed a charming grin that could still make me go weak in the knees at the appropriate moment. “Dangerous people don’t wear spandex.”

  “Good point.” I slipped my hand in Landon’s and turned to survey the room. “One of the soaps had a story like this. I think it was One Life to Live.”

  “That’s also the one that had the time travel, right?” Thistle asked. “I think I kind of remember that one.”

  “Time travel?” Landon didn’t look as if he liked the sound of that. “Please tell me she’s not going to force us to go through that again. I’ve had my fill of time travel.”

  “I think soaps offer her plenty of other ways to torture us,” I replied. “I don’t think we need to worry about time travel. Demonic possession and super villains are another story, though.”

  “Oh, I’m waiting for one of our stories to change so one of us is actually dating a brother or something,” Thistle said. “That’s a soap staple.”

  “Except we’re not really related, so it won’t be a big deal,” Sam pointed out.

  “No, but even hearing it suggested will be enough to kill the romance.”

  Landon shot me a pointed look. “If she even tries that I will lock her in her room for the rest of her life.”

  “She’s going to outlive us all,” Thistle muttered. “Plus, if you try, she’ll do something worse than this.”

  “I’m not convinced there is anything worse than this,” Landon argued. “Still, we’re in an underground city that’s supposed to be hidden, yet it has a billboard right next to it. I think we need to find our diamond and get out of here.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it’s going to be okay,” I said. “If I remember correctly, this story ended well when I watched it with Aunt Tillie.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Landon cocked an eyebrow. “Did they ever explain how a city existed under a mountain and no one noticed it?”

  “It’s a soap. After a while you ignore the bigger-picture questions and just go with the flow.”

  “I’m not sure I can, but I’ll give it a shot. In fact … .” Landon trailed off, shifting his eyes toward the center of the room.

  I followed his gaze, my eyes widening when I recognized the familiar profile. “Is that … ?”

  “Dad?” Thistle made an odd face when she saw the man in question. In turn, the man who looked like Uncle Teddy flicked his eyes to us but didn’t immediate
ly speak. There was no recognition there, which made me realize we were dealing with an imaginary soap opera character that just happened to look like Thistle’s father rather than the real deal. “What are you doing here?”

  “Do I know you?” Teddy asked, his eyes busy. “Are you new to our brave new world?”

  “Oh, geez.” Thistle pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that Aunt Tillie made my dad a cult member?”

  “Why does anything that woman does surprise you?” Landon challenged. “She’s off her broom. I’ve known that since the moment I met her.”

  “And yet you still got shot for her,” I reminded him. “Maybe you’re just as crazy as she is.”

  “Why do you think we get along so well?” Landon teased, pressing a kiss to the tip of my nose.

  “Oh, don’t get all schmaltzy. We have no time for schmaltzy.” Thistle warned, turning back to her father. “What’s your name?”

  “Flynn Warfield.”

  Thistle shook her head. “What do you do here, Flynn?”

  “I’m second in command.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I issue orders when our leader isn’t available.”

  “That seems a little too on the nose,” Landon said. “Still, he looks like Teddy for a reason. We might as well see if he can help us.”

  “I guess.” Thistle tried again. “So … um, Flynn … do you know where we can find a diamond that’s big enough to fuel a device that will freeze the world?” Thistle barely got out the question before she snorted. “There’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”

  “We’ve all been there,” Landon muttered.

  “You’re looking for a diamond?” The look on Teddy’s face was hard to read.

  “We are,” Thistle confirmed. “We need it.”

  “I see.” Teddy linked his fingers in front of him. “Why do you think we have diamonds here?”

  “Because it says so on your sign.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true.”

  “Well, it is.” Thistle’s agitation was beginning to show. “I don’t have time to mess around with you, Dad. I mean … Flynn. Flynn is a stupid name, by the way. All I can hear playing through my head is ‘in like Flynn,’ and it makes me want to punch somebody.”