Witch Me Luck (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 6)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Lila swallowed hard. “Well … I’m glad to be of service.”

  “Oh, you have no idea how happy we are for you to be of service,” Thistle said. “We absolutely love it. You can service our Aunt Tillie as much as you want for the next week.”

  Lila shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “You will,” Thistle said, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door of her store. “You definitely will. I’d duck and cover if I were you.”

  “I’m not afraid of your crazy aunt,” Lila shot back. When she glanced over her shoulder to see whether anyone was listening, I fought the mad urge to laugh. “I’m not afraid of her at all.”

  “That’s good,” Thistle said. “Aunt Tillie loves a challenge. She pulls out all of the stops when she’s around nonbelievers. You have a good day, Lila. I wouldn’t worry about Aunt Tillie gearing up for war until tomorrow. She needs time to plan, after all. Have a nice night.”

  “You just … don’t tell her,” Lila said, her voice dropping. “Don’t tell her. I was just joking.”

  “Oh, it’s too late for that,” Thistle said. “I have to tell her. It’s a family thing. We can’t lie to each other.”

  Even when we want to, I added silently.

  “I was just joking,” Lila said. “You know I was joking, right?”

  Thistle shook her head.

  “Bay?” Lila asked, hopeful.

  “I can’t lie to my family,” I said. “It’s not fair. I have to show Aunt Tillie some loyalty.” Yes. I’m enjoying this way too much.

  “Well, fine,” Lila said. “I’m not afraid of her anyway. You two are just … horrible people. You’ve always been horrible people. You always will be horrible people. I don’t know why I thought the years would bless you with some maturity.”

  “Me either,” Thistle said, shoving me into Hypnotic forcefully. “Maturity is highly overrated. We’re happy being immature. We get it from Aunt Tillie. Now you have a nice night … and stay away from my cousin. You’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

  Three

  “Why didn’t you throw her through the window?” Thistle asked once she closed the door and Lila was safely out of earshot. “I would have gladly paid to have the glass replaced.”

  “What’s going on?” Clove asked, looking up from her spot behind the counter. Her face was awash with curiosity and confusion. “Aunt Tillie hasn’t followed through on her promise to burn the town square down if the bakery doesn’t bring back chocolate éclairs, has she?”

  “No,” Thistle said. “And I’m on her side where those éclairs are concerned. They were awesome. I have no idea why Mrs. Gunderson stopped selling them.”

  “She said she couldn’t get the dough anymore,” I said. “Apparently she ordered it frozen.” That had been a personal affront to all of the kitchen witches in my family when they found out. You don’t buy dough. In our house, you make everything from scratch. That didn’t stop any of us from salivating after those éclairs, though.

  “So, why are you two fighting?” Clove asked.

  “We’re not fighting,” I replied.

  “Yet,” Thistle clarified. “We’re not fighting yet. If you don’t get it together and tell Lila Stevens where to stick it, we’re going to have a huge fight. I’m going to make you eat a whole garden of dirt.”

  I made a face. Even though we were adults, a few holdovers from our childhood continued to thrive. Wrestling each other down – sometimes in broad daylight – was one of them. Lila might have a point about the maturity thing.

  “Lila Stevens is here?” Clove wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me she looks hideous.”

  “She looks fine,” I said. “She didn’t have a horrible, disfiguring disease like we all hoped for when we were teenagers.”

  “We could still make that happen,” Thistle said, wagging her finger in my face. “It doesn’t have to be a permanent disease. We could give her leprosy for just a week.”

  “Oh, that sounds fun,” Clove said, her face brightening. “Maybe her nose will fall off. All that money her mother spent on that nose job when she was fourteen would fly right out the window then.”

  “I like that idea,” Thistle said, satisfied with herself. “Can we find a spell for that?”

  “We’re not giving her leprosy,” I said. “Not for a week. Not for a day.”

  “Fine,” Thistle said. “How about we give her a beard? She’s got a square jaw. She would look like she’s transitioning. That could be a lot of fun.”

  I pursed my lips. That suggestion wasn’t as destructive. “Not yet,” I said. “Let’s just see if she stays away from us, shall we? We don’t have to go after her if she leaves us alone.”

  “She’s not going to leave us alone,” Thistle said. “It’s not in her nature. She likes to attack others. That’s how she gets her power. She’s like those wraith things in Harry Potter … what are they called?”

  “Dementors,” Clove supplied helpfully.

  “Yeah, she’s like a Dementor,” Thistle said. “Instead of sucking life force out, though, she feeds on pain and misery.”

  “She really is evil,” Clove said. “Did she say anything to you, Bay?”

  “She was just being herself,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Thistle said. “She’s mean to you. She purposely goes after you. I’m not going to put up with it, and neither are you. If she starts anything … even once … I’m going to make all of her hair fall out.”

  “She’ll just buy a wig,” Clove said. “We should make her boobs shrink. That’s the only reason she gets attention.”

  “Oh, she’ll stuff them,” Thistle said. “We have to think of something truly awful.”

  “I thought you were going to tell Aunt Tillie what she said?” I asked. “That’s pretty awful. Aunt Tillie is going to torture her for an entire week straight.”

  “Oh, I’m telling Aunt Tillie,” Thistle said. “Lila deserves some extended Aunt Tillie time. I want to do something to her, though. I want to … hey, do you know what we should do to her?”

  I was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

  “We should make her … you know … incontinent for the week.”

  I tilted my head to the side, considering. “That’s really mean.”

  “Incontinent? Does that mean she’s not good at her job?” Clove asked. “Who cares if she’s good at her job?”

  “Not incompetent,” Thistle said. “Incontinent. It means she can’t control her bladder.”

  “Or her bowels,” I added.

  “Oh, so she would make whoopsy in her pants? That’s awesome.” Clove was usually the one who balked at our revenge fantasies. For her to take part in them was a definite personality shift. I think Sam was starting to have a negative influence on her sweet nature.

  “Who says ‘whoopsy?’” Thistle asked.

  “You know what I mean,” Clove said. “I think it’s a great idea. She’ll have to wear those adult diapers all week.”

  “And none of her pants will fit,” Thistle said. “This is a great idea. I’m glad I thought of it.”

  “I think we should just leave her to Aunt Tillie,” I said.

  “Why?” Thistle asked.

  “Because I don’t want to be the kind of person who does something like this because Lila used to be mean to me in high school,” I said. “Shouldn’t I be above all of this?”

  “Have you met the other members of our family? We’re never going to be above this,” Thistle said. “It’s genetically impossible. Anyway, I don’t ever want to be above this. Lila Stevens is a blight on humanity. You need to either join our team, or get out of the way. That woman is going down.”

  “But … .”

  Thistle cut me off. “No. I’m not going to just let you sit around and be tortured by that horrible menace. It’s not going to happen.”

  “Fine,” I said, resigned. “I don’t want to be a part of it, though. Do what yo
u want. I just want to make it through the next week without looking like a complete and total idiot.”

  Thistle’s face was unreadable when she glanced back at me. “That’s what we want, too. Trust us.”

  AFTER a tense lunch during which Thistle and Clove continued to brainstorm over hamburgers and fries, I left Hypnotic and headed back to The Whistler.

  Part of me was thrilled my cousins were loyal enough to plot revenge on my behalf. The other part was embarrassed they had to. I had no idea why Lila made me so crazy. It was as though every ounce of courage I owned fled whenever she was in front of me. It was like magic – a really ugly magic that only mean girls could utilize.

  I hated her. My mother told me never to use the “h-word” in conjunction with another person, but I couldn’t help myself. I truly hated Lila. I hated who she was, and I hated what she represented. She was one of those awful individuals with absolutely no redeeming qualities.

  I was halfway back to the newspaper office when a figure detached from the shadows beneath the hardware store awning and stepped into my path. I involuntarily took a step back when Lila’s wretched face swam into view.

  “Oh, really? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  Lila ignored my outburst. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” I said. “In fact, the last thing in this world I want to do is talk to you. Can’t you just understand that and leave me alone?”

  “I don’t care what you want,” Lila said. “I’ve never cared what you want.”

  “Well, I don’t care what you want either,” I said. “So, just … .” I waved my hands in front of me.

  “What are you doing?” Lila asked, staring at my hands. “Is that some sort of secret signal so your family knows to come and pounce?”

  “It’s the signal to go away,” I replied. “That’s what I want you to do. I want you to go away.”

  “Well, I want to talk to you,” Lila said.

  “Why?”

  “Can’t two old friends catch up?” Lila was playing a game. I just couldn’t figure out which one.

  “We were never friends, and I don’t want to catch up,” I said. “Besides, I have to get back to the paper. I have work to do. Unlike you, I’m not on vacation this week.”

  “I want to talk to you first,” Lila said, holding her hand out to stop me from leaving. “Believe it or not, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  I didn’t believe her. “What do you want?”

  “I just want to make sure that you’re aware I didn’t mean to say anything bad about your Aunt Tillie,” Lila said. “I was really only repeating what my mother told me, so if your aunt is angry, she should plot revenge against my mother.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that Lila was willing to throw her own mother to Aunt Tillie, but I was still taken aback. “Seriously? You’ve been hanging around for an hour just to make sure I don’t tell Aunt Tillie you were talking badly about her?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Your secret is safe with me, Lila,” I said. “I have no intention of telling Aunt Tillie what you said.”

  Lila looked relieved. “Really?”

  “Really,” I said. “Of course, Thistle is dying to tell her, so that’s a whole other problem for you to deal with.”

  “Oh, can’t you stop Thistle?”

  “No,” I said. “If you want to stop Thistle, you’re going to have to beg her. She likes chocolate éclairs. If you can find one of those, you’re golden.”

  “I am not begging Thistle for anything,” Lila sneered. “That’s just … beneath me.”

  “Well, then deal with Aunt Tillie’s wrath,” I said. “I don’t care what you do.” Actually, that wasn’t true. I kind of wanted to see what Aunt Tillie would do to Lila with a whole week to plot against her.

  “You’re going to tell your Aunt Tillie that Thistle is lying,” Lila said.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are,” Lila said. “I am not going to spend an entire week hiding from that woman. It’s not fair.”

  “I’m not telling Aunt Tillie anything,” I said, moving around Lila. “Fight your own battles.”

  Lila grabbed my arm, digging her fingernails into the soft flesh inside of my elbow. “If you don’t talk to your Aunt Tillie, I’m going to make this week miserable for you.”

  I jerked my arm away from her. “If you don’t stay away from me, I’m going to let both Thistle and Aunt Tillie off their leashes,” I countered. “Trust me, you do not want that.”

  “I can make your life a lot more uncomfortable than you can make my life,” Lila said.

  “Do you want to place money on that?”

  “Just … keep your crazy aunt away from me,” Lila said. “I am not going to … .”

  The rest of her sentence was cut short by two loud bangs, and then the sound of people screaming. Lila dropped to her knees quickly, covering her ears in the process. I didn’t have the same fight-or-flight response. I was more interested in finding out where the noise came from.

  I scanned the storefronts, my eyes landing on the steps to the bank. My head told me not to cross the street. My curiosity got the better of me, as it always does. I broke into a run, instinct pushing me forward. Something was clanging in the back of my brain. Someone was in trouble. From the sound of the screams, a whole lot of people were in trouble. When I hit the top of the steps, the bank door flew open and a dark figure barreled through it. I pulled up short, confusion flitting through my brain. I didn’t have a chance to grasp what was going on, though, because the figure was heading in my direction – fast.

  The figure knocked me off balance as it pushed past me, and I careened toward the pavement before I could collect myself. I did register the gun in the figure’s hand, and the black mask over its face.

  Then I hit the ground. Hard.

  Despite the pain coursing through the hand I’d extended to break my fall, I forced my body to turn so I could watch the figure flee around the corner. That’s when the screams in the bank amplified, and everything in Hemlock Cove tilted on its side. Again.

  Four

  The paramedic disinfecting the scrape on my hand an hour later was trying to be gentle, but I couldn’t stop cringing every time he rubbed the antiseptic against my raw skin.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “It’s fine.” There was no way I was going to complain about an injured hand, especially given what happened inside of the bank. It had taken me a few minutes to ascertain what was going on, but once I made my way inside, things had become clear.

  The dark figure had been a robber. Unfortunately, instead of firing a warning shot into the ceiling, he’d shot errantly into the crowd as he tried to make his escape. One of the clerks, a young woman named Amy Madison, was shot in the chest. She’d been transported to an area hospital, and everyone was waiting on word of her prognosis. I didn’t know her well, but what I did know was enough to pray for her recovery.

  “Are you all right?” Chief Terry asked, moving to my side and placing a hand on my shoulder. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “He just knocked me down.”

  “Just for the record, when you hear gunshots in a bank, you’re supposed to run the other way,” he said. “You don’t run inside.”

  “I know,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I didn’t think. There’s no need to yell at me.”

  “I’m not going to yell at you,” Chief Terry said. He’d been Hemlock Cove’s top cop for more than a decade, and he was used to the Winchester women popping up in investigations. He was much calmer than he used to be.

  I was still suspicious. “You’re not?”

  Chief Terry pointed to a spot over my left shoulder. “I’m going to leave the yelling to him.”

  Somehow I knew whom he was pointing at even before I turned. When my gaze fell on Landon, his eyes keenly scanning the scene, my heart rolled. I was excited to see hi
m. He’d been stuck in Traverse City working for the past three days, and our only contact had been via dirty text messages. As happy as I was to see him, I was not looking forward to the lecture I was sure would follow our happy reunion.

  When Landon caught sight of me, he made a beeline in my direction. He ducked under the police tape and flashed his badge to the paramedic before moving to my side. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, lifting my hand for his inspection. “I just got knocked over.”

  Landon cupped my hand and studied the wound. “Is this the only thing that got hurt?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I guess it could be worse,” he said, leaning over and giving me a quick kiss. “I guess you can add ‘surviving a bank robbery’ to your list of exploits now.”

  “I wasn’t inside for the robbery,” I said.

  Landon knit his eyebrows together. “Then how did you get hurt?”

  I realized – too late, of course – that I’d made a mistake. Now I was going to have to tell him the truth about my actions in front of a crowd. He was going to go ballistic. “Well … .”

  “I can’t wait to hear how you explain this,” Chief Terry said.

  I made a face. “You see … .”

  “Just tell me what you did,” Landon said. “It’s going to be a lot worse if you drag it out.”

  “I didn’t technically do anything,” I said.

  “She was across the street when the clerk was shot,” Chief Terry said. “She ran toward the bank.”

  Landon’s face was grim. “I see.”

  “She got knocked over when the robber ran out of the bank,” Chief Terry said. “She’s lucky the guy was trying to get away and didn’t have time to focus on her.”

  “Thank you for your help,” I said, pressing my lips together tightly as I shot Chief Terry a dark look. The man had spent the better part of my life fighting for me and taking my side, making me feel my ideas were important and my opinion mattered. At times like this, though, I often wished he wasn’t so involved. “I’m so glad you told Landon before I could.”