All My Witches

by Amanda M. Lee

  “What a passion pit,” I complained.

  Landon took a step forward, his eyes bouncing from one side of the room to the other. “Can you believe this? Who would put a disco ball over their bed?”

  “Someone who obviously gets a lot of action.” I shuffled to the bed and touched the furry comforter. “This is kind of … neat. I bet it’s like sleeping on top of the world’s fluffiest pillow.”

  “It’s pink.”

  “Well, you are a lothario in this world.”

  “Which I still don’t like,” Landon grumbled, glaring at the radio on the bookshelf when the song changed. “Criminy. Is that Nickelback again? As if things aren’t bad enough.”

  “It’s another power ballad.”

  “So?”

  “So … this is a soap.”

  “So?”

  He wasn’t getting it and I wasn’t sure how in depth I wanted to go. “Soaps are many things, Landon.” I chose my words carefully. “First and foremost, they’re about love in the afternoon.”

  Landon furrowed his brow, his face going dark before realization dawned and he widened his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s a seduction. We could hardly get through the world without … you know.”

  Landon remained unconvinced. “Aunt Tillie is watching.”

  “She is, but she’s not a pervert. She won’t watch this. She simply wants to lead us to this.”

  “I’m not doing it in front of her.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him the odds of us “doing it” were small. I simply knew I needed to get him in the mood to at least pretend we were going to hit the sheets. “I don’t think we have much say in the matter.”

  “Oh, I have a choice.” Landon crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not happening, Bay. There’s absolutely nothing you can do to entice me to climb on that bed. Absolutely nothing.”

  “I bought bacon-scented bubble bath.”

  Landon pursed his lips. “Fine. If she sees, though, I’m going to blame you.” He strode toward the bed and cupped the back of my head, the music ratcheting up a notch.

  “That was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be to convince you.” I was a bit breathless and my heart pounded. “I have no idea why I’m so lightheaded.”

  “It’s the room.” Landon was resigned. “It’s making us do this. There can be no other explanation.”

  “Is that your excuse?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay.”

  Landon leaned closer. “Prepare yourself. I think this is going to be something special.”

  I didn’t get a chance to respond, because he slammed his lips against mine and tumbled me to the bed before I could find the appropriate words.

  Love in the afternoon indeed.

  “THAT WAS LITERALLY THE worst thing that ever happened to me!” Landon bellowed as he glared at the wall ten minutes later.

  I absently patted his arm. “You’re okay.” Unlike him, I believed I knew what was going to happen before the main event … and I wasn’t wrong.

  “I’m okay? We basically just had a heavy petting session with Nickelback music. Then, at the moment we were supposed to … you know … the room faded to black and then we were back without music and romance. It was as if an invisible force threw a bucket of cold water on us. What’s that about?”

  I worked overtime to maintain my amusement. “It’s a soap, Landon. It’s not porn. There’s no actual sex on a soap. There’s just a music montage and then the moment after. That’s how things work.”

  “I’m filing a complaint.”

  “With who?”

  “Oh, I’ll find someone.”

  All I could do was nod. “Okay, but I think we should head back downstairs. I’m guessing we all had an occurrence like this, and we’re about to head to our next adventure.”

  “I’ve been traumatized,” Landon complained, groaning as he got to his feet. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I know I said it before, but I really meant it, so I’m saying it again.”

  “You’ve been shot.”

  “It was still worse.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll let you forget this.”

  I had no doubt he was telling the truth.

  So … she’s sleeping with both the father and the son? That’s gross. I guess I should thank my lucky stars that she didn’t add in the grandfather. Wait a second. Is that the grandfather? He looks younger than the son. He’s much hotter than the others. I’m starting to think she’s crazy.

  – Winnie on soap opera casting decisions

  Eleven

  “I know where we have to go.”

  Thistle, Clove, Marcus and Sam were waiting for us at the front door when we hit the bottom of the stairs.

  “And where is that?”

  “An island.” Thistle held up a magazine. “Check this out.”

  I accepted the magazine and flipped it over so I could see the front cover. Aunt Tillie smiled back from the glossy page, a huge diamond in one hand, a lewd gesture displayed with the other, and a beautiful beach behind her. The headline read “Life’s Better on Witch Island.”

  Landon read over my shoulder. “Do I even want to know what Witch Island is?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s our next destination, so we might need whatever information is in this article.” I planted the magazine in his hand. “Where did you find it?”

  “Our apartment.”

  “Oh, did you have a disco ball, too?”

  Thistle shook her head. “Waterbed. Sex music. Unlimited porn.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. “I see.”

  “No happy ending,” Marcus added. “Also, it wasn’t porn. It was like a sanitized version of porn. It was like porn-lite.”

  “You seem to know a lot about porn,” Clove pointed out. “I don’t think you would still be Aunt Tillie’s favorite if she knew about your porn predilection.”

  “It’s not a predilection.”

  “It sounds like a predilection.”

  “Stop saying ‘predilection,’” Landon ordered, his temper flaring. “We need to focus on this stupid island. That’s clearly where we have to go next. Thistle didn’t stumble across that magazine by accident.”

  Thistle’s expression was hard to read. She stared at Landon a long moment before shifting her eyes to me. “What’s his problem?”

  “Music montage blue balls.”

  “Hey!” Landon extended a finger. “We said we were never going to speak about it again.”

  Thistle’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Clove’s cheeks turned red.

  “Landon isn’t a fan of the music montage,” I added.

  “Don’t forget the bacon bath,” Landon snapped. “You’re totally making it up to me.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Then let’s get moving.” I thought he was angry, so I was surprised – and rather pleased – when he linked his fingers with mine and tugged me toward the door. “We have an island to visit.”

  “How much do you want to bet it’s like the world’s cheesiest island?” Thistle asked as she followed. “You just know Aunt Tillie’s version of Witch Island has to be completely messed up.”

  I nodded as we cleared the door. “But the terror is real.”

  IT TURNS OUT WITCH ISLAND had more in common with Coney Island than Monster Island.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Landon shook his head as he stared at the strip of land across the way. It seemed the apartment complex opened to a nice view of Witch Island … and it resembled an over-the-top amusement park. “How is that an island?”

  “It’s surrounded by water,” Thistle said dryly.

  “It’s surrounded by like ten feet of water on every side,” Landon argued, stepping forward. He grabbed a stick from the ground and shoved it in the water, frowning when it hit bottom right away. “Like two feet o
f water deep to boot.”

  “At least we don’t have to take a boat ride,” Clove said philosophically. “I get seasick sometimes.”

  “Yes, it would be truly tragic to ride ten feet on a boat,” Landon drawled. “Come on. Let’s see what Witch Island holds.” He gripped my hand tighter as we stepped into the water. I wasn’t thrilled about getting my shoes wet, but there didn’t seem to be an easier way to arrive at our destination.

  Once on the other side, I took the opportunity to study the area. The spot to our right looked like an amusement park. The area to our left looked like a spa on steroids. There were mud baths, people frolicking in the mud baths, and waitresses walking around with alcoholic drinks and snacks to tempt the frolickers.

  “This isn’t the island on Lost by any stretch of the imagination,” Sam noted. “It’s more like a little kid’s idea of what an island should be.”

  I shifted so I could look over my shoulder and found the apartment complex was gone. We were now literally on an island; all we could see in any direction was water. “Has anyone noticed that it’s as if we’re stuck in a Lego video game?”

  The question caught my companions off guard.

  “What do you mean?” Clove asked.

  “No, she’s right.” Landon stared at the spot where the apartment complex used to be. “The locations are on top of each other and there are times you can only go forward instead of back. It’s like a video game.”

  “You can roam freely in Lego video games,” Sam pointed out.

  “Not always, and the first time through a Lego video game you often can’t go back,” Landon said. “Aunt Tillie has been playing that new Marvel game the past few weeks. I’ve been watching her. She was complaining about not being able to roam the way she wanted. She said the people at Marvel were trying to put her on a leash.”

  “If only,” Thistle muttered.

  That sounded about right. “I don’t know that it’s important. I just found it interesting.”

  “It’s another insight into how her brain works,” Landon agreed. “Speaking of her brain … .” His eyes landed on the row of amusement park games. “I don’t even know what to say about this freaking island. Where do you think we should start?”

  “I’m not sure.” I glanced toward the romantic mud pits, quickly jerking my eyes away when I realized the couple in the nearest pit were in the middle of making out in something of a feverish way, hands and tongues flying in every different direction. “I think we should start at the amusement park.”

  “Why?” Landon looked to the spot where I’d stared moments before. “Oh, right. Why don’t they get stopped by a music montage?”

  “Because Aunt Tillie wants to use them to further torture you. Why do you think we’re seeing this so soon after you were cut off from the … loving?”

  Instead of reacting with anger, Landon smirked. “She is a sadistic thing, isn’t she?”

  “I believe that’s the top line on her business cards.”

  “The amusement park it is.” Landon tugged so I would follow. “This place is really weird.”

  “Really?” Thistle rolled her eyes. “What was your first clue?”

  WE STOPPED FOR THE FIRST familiar face we saw. Mrs. Gunderson, the owner of a Hemlock Cove bakery and Aunt Tillie’s former friend who now served as an occasional confidant, stood behind a game booth where players had to select floating ducks to win a prize. She beamed when she saw us.

  “Do you fancy a try of your luck?”

  Landon slid a gaze to me. “I’m guessing this is part of the show.”

  “I guess.” I dug in my pocket and came up empty. “Does anyone have any money?”

  Everyone fruitlessly searched their pockets and offered up a series of head shakes.

  “I guess we can’t play,” I told Mrs. Gunderson. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, you don’t need money.” Mrs. Gunderson’s eyes gleamed. “You simply need the courage to pick a duck.”

  “That doesn’t sound hard.” Clove reached toward the tank, but Thistle slapped her hand back, earning a whine and a glare for her efforts.

  “Don’t,” Thistle warned. “This is Aunt Tillie’s game. There are consequences for everything we do. Nothing is as simple as picking a duck and getting something we want.”

  “She’s right,” Landon said. “We’re risking a lot by picking a duck.”

  “What could we possibly risk?” Sam queried.

  “I have no idea, but I wouldn’t put it past her to force us into a world without bacon or something if we pick the wrong duck,” Landon replied. “Or maybe she’ll find a way to separate us … or something worse.”

  “So you don’t want to pick a duck?” Mrs. Gunderson was confused. “Why come to Witch Island if you don’t want to test your luck?”

  “That’s a good question,” I said. “What can you tell us about them?” I gestured toward the mud pits, making sure to keep my eyes from focusing. No one wanted to see what was going on over there. Okay, the guys kept sneaking looks when they thought no one was watching, but they didn’t openly stare or anything.

  “Them?” Mrs. Gunderson arched an eyebrow. “They’re dead.”

  “Dead?”

  Mrs. Gunderson nodded. “They all died tragic deaths and left their loved ones behind. Then they were forced to wait here until the scheduled reunions.”

  Something about the story niggled the back of my brain, but I couldn’t quite remember where I’d heard it before.

  “Is this heaven?” Landon asked, his eyes drifting to the mud pits of love. “If so, I can see wanting to spend your afterlife that way.”

  I shot him a dirty look.

  “What?” Landon held his hands palms up. “Tell me that your idea of heaven doesn’t involve you, me and one of those pits, with a waitress who brings us nonstop chocolate martinis and bacon.”

  “It’s not a terrible way to spend our afterlife,” I conceded. “We’re not there yet, though.”

  “And I’m thankful for that.”

  “We need to focus on the here and now.”

  “I am.”

  “Then stop leering like a pervert,” I ordered. “I need to ask Mrs. Gunderson some questions, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly watching you to make sure you don’t get an inadvertent eyeful.”

  Instead of being offended, Landon barked out a laugh. “Fine. You have a deal.”

  “Great.” I swiveled back to the game. “What do you mean they’re dead?”

  “They’re dead,” Mrs. Gunderson repeated. “One half of each super couple died in the real world and they were transported here.”

  “Where they met someone to frolic with in the mud?” Sam asked.

  Mrs. Gunderson shook her head. “No. They’re super couples. The other people in the pits are merely momentary distractions.”

  “Did she just explain something?” Landon asked.

  “Maybe.” Something clicked in my head. “I remember this. It was a Days of Our Lives storyline. Aunt Tillie showed us some highlights when we were kids.”

  “And it’s important because?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you remember about the story?” Landon was calm. “It has to play into whatever comes next.”

  “I remember that a lot of characters died. They were all halves of super couples or popular couples. Their loved ones were left behind to mourn, and then something happened – although I can’t remember what – and somehow the other halves of the couples ended up on the island and everyone was reunited … and there was a lot of music montage sex happening.”

  “And that’s what you think is going on here?”

  “I don’t know.” I glanced at the nearest mud pit, cringing when I caught sight of what could only be described as vigorous … grinding. “I don’t remember it being like that.”

  “Aunt Tillie has them doing that because she doesn’t want us to focus on them,” Thistle supplied. “They’re important to the story, but she d
oesn’t want us to stare. We need to figure out why.”

  If anyone understood Aunt Tillie’s busy brain, it was Thistle. They were so much alike it was often hard to differentiate them.

  “It has to be about the couples,” I said. “She’s trying to warn us about something.”

  “What?” Landon was instantly alert. “What is she trying to warn us about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she trying to separate us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she trying to make us fight?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she trying to drive me abso-freaking-lutely crazy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?” Landon was on edge, and I couldn’t ignore his dark expression.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.” I purposely dragged out my words as I sucked in a calming breath. “I don’t know what she has planned. It’s just she rarely expends energy on something like this if it’s not going to come back to bite us later.”

  Landon seemed to realize he was clutching me rather tightly, so he loosened his grip on my hand. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  I flashed a smile. “That was hardly you losing your temper. I’ve seen you much angrier than that.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.” Landon pressed a kiss to my forehead before swiveling to face everyone else. “We need to be careful. If the storyline she’s trying to mimic here is about couples, that means she’s going to do something to us … perhaps separate us.”

  “What good would that do?” Sam challenged. “Isn’t it more fun for her to torture us together?”

  “Not if she can get her jollies by separating us.” Landon gripped my hand as tightly as possible, Marcus and Sam followed suit with their respective girlfriends. “She’ll enjoy separating us if she can. I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen very soon if she gets her way.”

  I wanted to argue with him, but it was fruitless. I was resigned to what was about to happen. “Landon … .”

  “No.” Landon extended a warning finger. “I won’t be separated from you. This world is hard enough without that. I can’t take it.”