Witch Me Luck
Wicked Witches of the Midwest
Book Six
By Amanda M. Lee
Text copyright ©2015 Amanda M. Lee
All Rights Reserved
To my mom, who always encouraged me to do whatever I wanted to do as long as property damage wasn’t involved. Well, actually, she was fine with the property damage as long as I didn’t get caught.
Table of Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Author’s Note
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Prologue
2004
“What do you think? I think I look like a princess.” Lila Stevens pivoted in front of the full-length mirror, showing off the pink prom monstrosity so her boyfriend, Nick Spencer, could get a better look.
“It looks like a bottle of that crap my mom used to give me when I had a stomach ache as a kid,” Nick replied, nonplussed.
Lila made a face. “It does not.”
“Yes, it does,” Nick said. “It’s just really … bright.”
“It’s supposed to be bright,” Lila said. “I want to stand out. It’s my senior prom, after all. We both know I’m going to be named queen. I have to look good when I’m crowned.”
“Well, you’ll definitely stand out,” Nick said. “So … um … mission accomplished.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Lila narrowed her green eyes and pushed her dark hair from her face. “Don’t you want to tell me how beautiful I look?”
Nick pressed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably. “Sure. You look beautiful.”
“That’s not very convincing.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Nick said. “It’s a dress. You’re wearing it. It makes noise when you walk. I’m not a fashion critic.”
“Oh, whatever,” Lila said, turning back to the mirror. “I think I look like an angel.” Lila decided to acknowledge she wasn’t the only customer in the store. “What do you think, Bay?”
I was hiding behind a rack of dresses further back in the store, hoping Lila wouldn’t catch sight of me. I guess I should have picked a better spot to hunker down. Lila had made it her mission to torture me for as long as I could remember. If I had any idea she was going to be in the store today, I would have delayed my visit. Since my mother was on me to buy a prom dress, though, I hoped to sneak into Rosalie’s Dress Boutique, make a purchase that didn’t stand out, and escape without anyone noticing.
It didn’t appear that was in the cards.
“You look nice,” I said, averting my gaze.
“Oh, now, don’t be jealous,” Lila said. “Tell me what you really think.”
I really thought she looked ridiculous. I’d seen three-year-olds with access to the Disney princess clothing racks without parental supervision with better fashion sense. I wisely kept that to myself.
“I think it’s pretty.” I purposely moved to another rack, my eyes trained on the bevy of dresses. None of them were my particular style, but if I didn’t come home with something my mother was going to pick one – and no one wanted that. I’d end up looking like a reject from the disco era.
“Pretty?” Lila arched a perfectly waxed eyebrow. “I look like a princess.”
Funny, that was just what I’d been thinking. In my world, that wasn’t a compliment, though. “You definitely look like a princess.”
Lila shot a smug smile in Nick’s direction. “See. Even a loser like Bay Winchester knows beauty when she sees it.”
I bit the inside of my lower lip and pulled a blue dress from the rack and held it out in front of me. It was simple, and pretty. The lines were basic, and it definitely wasn’t something that screamed “look at me.” It was perfect.
“That’s nice,” Nick said, studying the dress. “It matches your eyes.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
Lila made a face, her gaze bouncing between Nick and me. “Sure, if you like something like that,” she said. “Of course, Bay doesn’t want to stand out. She’s happy being plain. Right, Bay?”
I ignored her.
“Don’t listen to her,” Nick said, leaning against the wall and gazing at the dress in my hand. “At least you’ll be able to sit down and relax. Lila is going to need a whole other person to carry the back of that dress around. It’s stupid.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Lila said.
“Why not?”
“Because I said so,” Lila said. “You know I don’t like her. She’s weird. Her whole family is weird. Do you want people to think you’re weird because you’re talking to her?”
“I don’t really care what people think,” Nick said. “In three months, I’m out of here. I don’t see why you’re so worried about what people think anyway. It’s not like it matters. Besides, you talked to her first.”
Lila scowled. “I’m popular for a reason,” she said. “It’s because I don’t engage with people like … her. You should keep that in mind. If you hang around with losers, then you become a loser. You have a bright future in front of you, even if you’re barely going to graduate. At least you have a football scholarship. Bay doesn’t have anything in front of her. She’ll be living with her mother, aunts and cousins for the rest of her life.”
Lila laughed hollowly. “In fact, she’s such a loser, she’ll probably add thirty cats to the mix by the time she hits thirty.”
I rolled my tongue over my teeth, a biting retort on the tip of my tongue. I never got a chance to utter it, though, because the bell over the front door of the shop jangled, causing the three of us to shift our attention to the front of the shop. My heart sank when I saw my cousin, Thistle, standing there.
Her hair, which she’d recently chopped off in an attempt to drive her mother insane, was a vibrant green hue. Her eyes flashed when she caught sight of Lila.
“Oh, speaking of losers,” Lila drawled. “Nice hair, Thistle. Are you auditioning to be a leprechaun for the summer parade?”
“Nice dress, Lila,” Thistle replied, unruffled. “Are you auditioning to be Prince Charming’s guttersnipe third wife?”
Lila wrinkled her nose. “You are so … obnoxious.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you,” Thistle said, moving toward me. “Did you find a dress?”
“How did you even know I was here?” I asked, mortified. It was one thing for Lila to verbally abuse me in private. It was quite another for her to do it in front of my family.
“I heard our moms talking,” Thistle said. “If you don’t come back with a dress, you’re not going to like the one your mom has picked out for you, by the way. It has sequins.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off the building headache. “Great.”
“That one is much nicer,” Thist
le said. “Why don’t you try it on?”
I glanced at Lila, unsure. “Not right now. Let’s leave and come back later.”
“Come on, Bay,” Thistle said. “You can’t let her get you down. I know she’s an evil witch, but she’s just a person. She doesn’t have any power over you.”
That was easy for Thistle to say. Lila was mean to her, but she didn’t seek her out. Whenever Lila needed a pick-me-up, she did it by doing something horrible to me. I had no idea why she got her power from picking on others, but she did. “Let’s just leave.”
Thistle shook her head. “No. Go try the dress on.”
“But … .”
“Try it on,” Thistle pressed. She scorched Lila with a hateful look. “She won’t say a thing to you. Isn’t that right, Lila?”
“I have no interest in even being in the same room with her,” Lila said. “Trust me.”
“Of course you don’t,” Thistle said. “She’s not a football player, and you haven’t had two bottles of cheap wine to blame for being easy.”
Lila furrowed her brow. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you’re a slut,” Thistle shot back. She pushed me toward the dressing room. “Try that on. I’ll be right here.”
“I am not a slut,” Lila said. “You stop telling people that.”
“That’s probably your problem,” Thistle mused. “If you were getting any, you wouldn’t be so mean and nasty all of the time. You just can’t help yourself.”
Nick snickered, causing Lila to cuff him. “That is not funny!”
“Ow!”
Lila jumped down from the raised step in front of the mirror and stalked across the store. “I’ve had just about enough of you losers,” she said. “I can’t even stand to look at you.”
“Then turn around,” Thistle said. “You’re not going to like what happens if you don’t.”
Lila was haughty. “Oh, and what’s that?”
“What always happens when you go after Bay?” Thistle challenged.
“I win, and she looks like an idiot.”
“And then I beat the crap out of you,” Thistle reminded her. “My new hair is making me feel like the Hulk. I’d be careful if I were you.”
“Oh, you’re so full of yourself,” Lila sniffed. “If Bay doesn’t want to be picked on, she should probably stop being such a loser. I mean … who walks around talking to themselves all the time? A loser, that’s who.”
“Shut your mouth,” Thistle hissed.
I put my hand on Thistle’s arm to still her. “She’s not worth it,” I said. “Let’s just go. We can come back later.”
“Oh, we’re not coming back later,” Thistle said. “Now, go try that dress on. I’ll handle the bubblegum princess.”
“This dress is made by a very important designer!” Lila stamped her foot on the floor angrily. “It was specially ordered just for me.”
“Since when is Bubble Yum a dress designer?” Thistle asked.
Lila lashed out, her hand heading for Thistle’s face. Thistle was too quick, though, and dodged her easily. Since the circumference of Lila’s dress was so large, as she leaned forward, she couldn’t maintain her balance and tumbled forward.
“Omigod! I can’t believe you did that,” Lila screeched. She tried to push herself up from the floor, but couldn’t find her footing amidst the yards of pink taffeta and chiffon. “Help me!” She held out her hand to Thistle, but my cousin batted it away.
“Help yourself,” Thistle said.
“Nick, help me,” Lila pleaded.
Nick sighed as he moved around her. His hands rummaged through the mountains of fabric as he searched for something to grab on to.
“Oomph,” Lila said. “That hurts.”
“Well, I can’t find your waist,” Nick said. “It’s like trying to wrestle a pig.”
“I am not fat!”
“I didn’t say you were fat,” Nick said. “I just said … stop moving around so much.”
“Get me off this floor right now,” Lila demanded. “There are probably germs … and bugs … and Winchester cooties all over the place.”
“Oh, we don’t have cooties,” Thistle said, watching the tableau play out in front of her with a wide smile. “I heard you have herpes, though, so you should really be wishing for something as cool as cooties.”
“You shut your filthy mouth,” Lila said. “You and your weird cousin should just get out of here. No one wants you here. Everyone in this town hates you. You were losers as kids, and you’re still losers.”
“We’re not the ones on the floor flailing about like a beached whale,” Thistle said.
“Stop looking at me.” Lila was beside herself. “Just … go away. This is all your fault.”
“You tried to hit me,” Thistle reminded her. “You missed and you fell over. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were drunk, and that’s exactly what I’m going to tell your mother when I see her next time.”
“Thistle,” I warned. “Don’t make this worse.”
“Yes, Thistle,” Lila said, her teeth grinding as Nick struggled to pull her to a standing position. “If you make this worse, I’m going to make sure Bay has the worst prom ever. It will be the stuff of nightmares.”
“Don’t you threaten her,” Thistle said.
“Then walk away,” Lila said. “It’s going to be better for everyone if you just walk away.”
“I’ve got you,” Nick said, triumphant. He straightened, and the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric filled the store.
“What was that?” Lila’s eyes were wide. “What was that?”
“I’m sure it was nothing,” Nick said. “I … it was nothing.” He was intently studying Lila’s backside, and no one believed him.
“Oh, if you’ve ruined this dress … I’ll ruin you.”
Lila shuffled back to the mirrors and climbed up on the step, twirling to see the back of her dress. From our position, Thistle and I could already see the damage Nick’s foot had done.
When Lila caught sight of the gaping hole in the back of the dress, her face was murderous. “It’s ruined!”
“I think it looks better,” Thistle said. “With your butt hanging out like that, no one will be looking at your ugly face.”
“You’re both going to pay for this,” Lila said. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you. You’re going to wish I’d never been born.”
I often speak before I think, which is a family trait, and this was no exception. “I think the whole town wishes you hadn’t been born.”
Thistle snorted. “You’ve got that right. Come on, Bay. Let’s see how that dress looks on you. I think our work here is done.”
“You’re going to pay for this,” Lila warned one more time. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to make the rest of your lives hell. Just you wait.”
One
“I don’t want to do this,” I complained, leaning back in my desk chair and fixing The Whistler’s resident ghost, Edith, with a hard look. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Edith was used to my theatrics, so she wasn’t exactly driven to fits of histrionics over my pronouncement. “Something tells me you’ll live.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “You’re a ghost. You have no idea how harsh the real world is these days.”
“Oh, I understand about the real world,” Edith said. “I watch a lot of television.”
Since dying at her desk in the newspaper office decades before, Edith didn’t have a lot to do. She didn’t like leaving the place she felt safest, so television was her new best friend. Unfortunately, she went through phases. She liked shows like Mad Men because they reminded her of better times (better in her mind, at least). When she took the time to watch something else, like The Walking Dead, she was convinced the world was coming to an end. The day I tried to explain Game of Thrones to her was one of the worst of my entire life – and and that’s saying somethi
ng since I’ve been haunted by a vengeful poltergeist and stalked by crazy murderers so many times I’ve lost count.
“Television is not the real world,” I reminded her. “Television is fantasy. It’s an escape.”
“You’re only saying that because you refuse to believe the zombie apocalypse is coming,” Edith said. “I happen to know it’s on the horizon. It’s only a matter of time. I saw Frank Dorchester buying an ad the other day, and he had a wound on his neck. He’s going to turn into a zombie any day now.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a ghost. You can’t be turned into a zombie. You know that, right?”
Edith pursed her lips. “I’m aware of my current situation. I don’t need to be reminded of it every time I turn around.”
“I’m sorry.” Edith is a lot of work. There’s a reason I toil away on my newspaper duties from home three days a week. Most days she’s too much of a distraction for me to maintain focus in the office.
Edith considered my apology for a moment, and then appeared to shake off her melancholy. “Well, it’s neither here nor there. What’s wrong with you?”
“Haven’t you heard? It’s Hemlock Cove’s fifteenth anniversary.”
“So?”
“So they’re having a weeklong celebration to mark it,” I replied.
“I’m still not seeing the problem.”
I tried again. “The town is going to be full of people who don’t live here.”
“Isn’t that good for a tourist town?”
I sighed. Edith had a point. Since Hemlock Cove magically rebranded itself into a tourist destination, the economy had picked up. That was the whole point of the rebranding, after all. The manufacturing base died decades ago, and the town needed a way to survive. Since it was located in northern Lower Michigan, there weren’t a lot of options. Setting the town up as a magical destination – witches and hauntings serving as kitschy vacation getaways – had been a stroke of genius. My own family benefited. Of course, we were real witches pretending to be fake witches, but that was another problem entirely.
“It is good,” I admitted. “The inn is booked for the whole week. We’re usually booked to capacity on the weekends this time of year, but midweek is kind of dead. That’s not going to be a problem this week.”
Witch Me Luck (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 6) Page 1