On a Witch and a Prayer: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

by Amanda M. Lee

Bay tilted her head to the side, listening. When another shot rang out, she pointed. “It’s the bluff.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  “Stay here,” I ordered. “If I don’t come back in twenty minutes, call Chief Terry and have him bring some armed deputies.”

  “You’re not armed,” Bay said, irritated. “You can’t follow the sound of gunfire without a weapon of your own. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I promise. I have to go and see what that is. You know that.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  “You are not,” I said, emphatically shaking my head. “You were just shot a few weeks ago. You’re staying right here.”

  Bay was hearing none of it. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

  I didn’t have time to argue with her. I grabbed her hand and growled. “You stay right with me.”

  She nodded.

  “If I say duck, you duck.”

  She nodded again.

  “If you get shot again I’m going to kill you,” I said, leaning in and giving her a quick kiss. “You do exactly as I say.”

  “If you get shot I’ll never forgive you,” Bay said, her blue eyes wide.

  “Then I guess we both need to keep from getting shot.” I tightened my hand around Bay’s, and then we bolted into the woods, running to the sound of gunfire. That’s never a good idea, just for the record.

  Eight

  “Where?” I asked, closing my eyes and listening. I couldn’t hear anything but the normal sounds of morning. This is why I hate the woods – although I’m not keen on all nature, if I’m telling the truth.

  Bay pointed to my right. “It’s just beyond those trees.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d wait here for me?” I had to try one more time. Pulling her into danger was foreign to me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

  Bay shook her head. “I’m going with you,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think we’re going to find what you think we’re going to find.”

  “What does that mean?” I was confused … and conflicted. I didn’t know which one was worse.

  “Where do you think Aunt Tillie was going so early in the morning?”

  I stilled. That was a very interesting question. “You think it’s her? Where would she get a gun?”

  “She used to have a handgun and a rifle until my mom deemed them contraband and took them from her,” Bay said. “She was looking for money a few weeks ago. She has access to a computer.”

  “You have to show identification to get a gun,” I said.

  “Not if you magically rig the game.”

  I considered the suggestion. Would Aunt Tillie actually order a gun over the Internet? Could she be that stupid? Oh, who am I kidding? That woman does what she wants when she wants. She’s like a magical little Nazi with no rules and no parental guidance. “You still stay behind me,” I said. “If she accidentally shoots someone, I want it to be me.”

  “What if it’s not her? I could be wrong.”

  “I don’t think you’re wrong,” I said. “I still want you behind me. If it’s someone else … if I say run, you run.”

  Bay wrinkled her nose. “We’ll see what’s going on and make our decisions then,” she said. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “You drive me crazy.”

  “It runs in the family.”

  She wasn’t wrong. “Let’s go.” I tugged on her hand and led her through the trees, slowing my pace so I could approach quietly. When the gun fired again, I cringed. We were definitely closer. The sound of the gun going off was followed by a series of whoops and excited uttering. It sounded like … teenage girls.

  I shifted my eyes to Bay, confused. She merely shrugged. Obviously she had no idea what was going on either. We were about to find out. I led her through the final line of trees and pulled up short so I could study the people assembled on the bluff.

  Aunt Tillie was definitely here, and she wasn’t alone. There were seven teenage girls with her, all dressed in yoga pants and hoodies, and Aunt Tillie was instructing them on the finer points of rifle utilization.

  Bay moved up beside me, silent, and watched as Aunt Tillie pointed to a spot over the bluff. The elderly Winchester matriarch then bent over and lifted a pot from the ground and tossed it in front of the girl – as far out as she could.

  The girl with the gun pulled the trigger, shattering the pot into shards, and causing the other teenage girls to break out into enthusiastic applause.

  “That was great, Shiloh,” one of the girls said.

  “Thanks, Madison. It’s much easier once you get used to the gun’s kick,” Shiloh said.

  “It seems heavy to me,” one of the other girls said.

  “You have to get used to it, Cinnamon,” Aunt Tillie said.

  “My name isn’t Cinnamon,” the girl said. “It’s Cherise. I’ve told you that like a thousand times.”

  “You have red hair,” Aunt Tillie said. “Cherise is a stupid name. You’re either Cinnamon or you can go.”

  Cherise looked conflicted. “Fine. You can call me Cinnamon. You really are a mean lady, though. You know that, right?”

  “I’ve worked hard to earn and maintain my reputation,” a blasé Aunt Tillie replied. “I see my legacy is safe.”

  I knew what I saw, and yet it didn’t make sense. If Bay and her cousins were to be believed, the townspeople lived in fear of Aunt Tillie. Why would some of the town’s youngest and most easily influenced denizens be hanging out with a crazy old woman who cursed people?

  I cleared my throat. “Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  The teenage girls had the good grace to look embarrassed … and frightened. Aunt Tillie didn’t even turn in our direction. “Shouldn’t you be eating breakfast?”

  In the course of my career, I’ve found the most interesting criminals to be those who think they haven’t done anything wrong. In some cases, like protecting a child, their instincts are understandable. In others, like when dealing with a true sociopath, you don’t agree with what they’ve done but you understand they don’t care they’ve hurt others.

  Aunt Tillie is her own little bastion of crazy.

  “Something came up,” I said. “We were outside when we heard the gunfire. We thought something bad might be happening.”

  “Nothing bad is happening,” Aunt Tillie said, placing her hand on Shiloh’s shoulder. “Ignore him. Get ready for another.”

  Shiloh didn’t look convinced. “But … .”

  “Ignore him,” Aunt Tillie instructed. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  I strode forward, angry and incredulous. “You’re not doing anything wrong? You’re out here shooting a gun with a bunch of girls who don’t look legal to me.”

  “So what?” Aunt Tillie didn’t look bothered in the least. “It’s not as if I’m touching them inappropriately. I’m showing them how to use a gun.”

  I looked to Bay for help. “Why?” she asked. “Are you all going hunting or something?”

  The girls snickered, and Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m starting a hunting club. We’re going to call ourselves Witch Commander. We’re going to sell venison on the side of the road and get rich. These girls are going to retire before they’re twenty.”

  I tamped down the urge to strangle her – especially with so many witnesses present.

  “Wait, can we really get rich selling venison?” Cherise looked intrigued by the idea. “I think I could shoot a deer … just not a little one.”

  “No one is shooting anything,” I said, grabbing the rifle from Shiloh’s hands. I looked it over, scowling when I realized I was looking at a new weapon and not some relic Aunt Tillie managed to scrounge up on the property. “Where did this come from?”

  “The gun fairy,” Aunt Tillie replied, not missing a beat. “I left my dentures under my pillow and I woke up to find a rifle. It’s just what I always wanted.”

 
; Instead of fixating on her aunt, Bay was more interested in studying the teenagers. “Why are you guys really out here?”

  The girls shifted uncomfortably, keeping their eyes cast toward the ground.

  “We’re starting a hunting club,” one of them said.

  “Yeah, a hunting club,” another echoed.

  “Do you guys know that I’m an FBI agent?” I asked. “That means you have to tell me the truth or I’ll put you in jail.”

  Audible gulps filled the air, and someone whispered “No way.”

  “He’s lying,” Aunt Tillie said. “He’s not with the FBI. He’s a janitor at the tampon factory over in Pinconning.”

  “There’s no tampon factory in Pinconning,” I said, annoyed. “Stop telling them lies.”

  The girls’ gazes bounced between Aunt Tillie and me, unsure. They obviously didn’t want to land on the wrong side of law enforcement, but the terror of Aunt Tillie had them rooted to their spots.

  “If he’s with the FBI, where is his badge?” Aunt Tillie asked.

  That seemed to bolster some of the girls.

  “Yeah,” Madison said, hands on hips. “Where’s your badge?”

  I knew exactly where my badge was: on Bay’s nightstand. “I don’t have it with me,” I said. “It’s very close, though.”

  “I think he’s lying,” Aunt Tillie said. “I saw a story on Dateline where men pretend to be law enforcement officials, and then they kidnap and rape women. Some of them keep the women as slaves and make them clean toilets all day. I’ll bet he would do something like that.”

  “I’m going to throttle you,” I warned, extending a finger in Aunt Tillie’s direction. “You’re in so much trouble you’re going to need a tractor to dig yourself out.”

  Aunt Tillie tapped her chin, thoughtful. “I could really use a tractor,” she said. “I like to dig for things. How much do you think a tractor costs?”

  “More money than you have,” I snapped.

  “I’ll have you know I’m an entrepreneur,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I’m going to be rich by the time I retire.”

  “You’re already technically retired,” Bay said.

  “How do you figure?”

  “What work do you do?”

  “You take that back,” Aunt Tillie said. “I work very hard. I own an inn, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “You don’t work at it, though,” Bay said. “Mom, Marnie and Twila do all the work.”

  “You’re dead to me,” Aunt Tillie said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re officially out of the will.”

  I love the Winchesters. I really do. Times like this, though … . I sucked in a calming breath. “Girls, I need to know what you’re doing here,” I said, keeping my voice purposely light. “I am with the FBI. If you don’t believe me, ask Bay. You all know her, right?”

  They nodded.

  “Ask her,” I prodded.

  “She doesn’t tell the truth, though,” Shiloh said. “Ms. Tillie told us that all her family is afflicted with Lyingitis.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep from exploding. “I’m sorry. What is Lyingitis?”

  “It’s when you can’t tell the truth,” Madison supplied helpfully. “Ms. Tillie told us she was saved from the disease because of her superior intellect. I said that correctly, didn’t I?”

  Aunt Tillie patted her head fondly. “Perfectly.”

  “I see,” I said, grinding my molars together. “If I’m understanding this correctly, you believe that … Ms. Tillie … is the only one in the family who tells the truth. Is that right?”

  More nods.

  “Don’t you think it’s far more likely that she’s the liar and you’re somehow … I don’t know … falling under her spell?”

  Aunt Tillie balked at the word “spell,” fluttering her hands angrily. “Just what are you insinuating?”

  I couldn’t believe I was missing out on the world’s best bacon and eggs for this. I tried to remain calm, and failed miserably. “I’ve had it,” I said. “I want to know what’s going on out here, and I want to know right now!”

  The teenagers took an involuntary step back while Aunt Tillie held her ground.

  “Aunt Tillie, you need to tell him,” Bay said. “We’ve had a development since we saw you this morning. We don’t have time for this. You’re going to give him an aneurism if you don’t tell him. Please.”

  Aunt Tillie scowled. “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “These girls want to learn the fine art of shooting because they want to protect their virtue.”

  “Their virtue?”

  “Teenage boys are horny beasts,” Aunt Tillie said. “These girls have the right and the might to protect their virtue.”

  “So mote it be!” All the teenage girls raised their fists into the air in unison.

  I rolled my eyes until they landed on Bay. “I’m going to have to kill her. You know that, right?”

  Bay held up her hand to still me. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Can’t you just tell the teenage boys you’re not interested?”

  “They don’t know how to stop themselves,” Shiloh said. “Words aren’t enough.”

  “That’s why we need guns,” Cherise said.

  “Their hormones are like angry invaders,” Madison added. “They’re like the aliens in the Alien movie, although I’ve never seen that so I don’t know what that means. I don’t watch black-and-white movies. Ms. Tillie told us, though.”

  Well, now I was really ticked off. “First, Alien is not a black-and-white movie,” I said. “It’s in color, and it’s a classic. You should watch it the second you get home.”

  “I’d rather watch The Vampire Diaries,” Madison replied, unruffled. “I don’t like old stuff.”

  “Then why are you hanging around with Aunt Tillie?” I asked.

  “Hey! I am not old.” Now Aunt Tillie was getting angry. That was good. That was exactly how I wanted her. She would be more likely to spill her intentions if she couldn’t control her emotions. “You’re at the top of my list, mister.”

  “Great,” I said. “Now tell me what you’re really doing out here.”

  “That is what we’re really doing out here,” Cherise said, whimpering. “We wanted to be able to protect ourselves from the horny beasts, and we thought Ms. Tillie was the best way to go. She decided to teach us how to shoot a gun.”

  Bay moved next to Aunt Tillie, studying the ground. “Are these Twila’s pots?”

  “I told her not to put that kiln in my greenhouse,” Aunt Tillie said. “She deserves what she gets.”

  “She spent a lot of time on these,” Bay protested. “She’s really getting good.”

  “Those things are ugly,” Aunt Tillie said. “They’re also possessed. I think they’re haunted with the souls of former horny beasts.”

  “Whatever,” I said, checking the chamber of the rifle. “Girls, you need to go home. You’re not to come back out here for shooting lessons. If you have problems with the … horny beasts … just kick them in the nuts.”

  “You can’t tell them that,” Bay hissed.

  “Why not? Aunt Tillie has already filled their heads with nonsense.”

  Bay tilted her head to the side, considering my reply. Her tactic when she turned to the teenagers was much more reasonable. “Girls, teenage boys are horny beasts,” she said. “That doesn’t mean your virtue is in danger … unless you want it to be.”

  “Who would want it to be?” Shiloh asked, confused.

  Aunt Tillie pointed at Bay. “She and her cousins spread their virtue all over the town when they were your age,” she said. “They’re still spreading their virtue around. You don’t want to end up like her. She’s … virtue-less.”

  I’d heard enough. “Girls, go home,” I said. “Your shooting lessons are over. If I catch you out here again, I’m going to arrest you all.”

  “How can a janitor arrest us?” Madison asked.

  “Go!”

  “What about our m
oney?” Shiloh asked.

  My heart sank. “What money?”

  “The money we paid for our shooting lessons,” Cherise supplied. “We were supposed to get three of them. We barely got one. I want my money back.”

  “Me, too,” another voice chimed in.

  “I want my money back, too.”

  Aunt Tillie scowled. “I told you when you signed the contract,” she said, “no refunds!”

  “But … ?”

  “Everyone get out of here,” I said, pointing toward The Overlook and gesturing emphatically. “Go now.”

  The girls grumbled, but left. When Aunt Tillie tried to slip by me, I snagged her by the back of her shirt and pulled her back. “You and I need to have a talk.”

  “Sure,” Aunt Tillie said. “I need breakfast first, and I believe you have some bathroom stalls to clean. I’ll meet up with you once your cleaning duties are done for the day.”

  Aunt Tillie tore her shirt from my grasp and headed toward the inn. “You’re still on my list,” she said by way of a parting shot.

  Bay moved to my side. “I know you’re angry,” she said. “In the grand scheme of things, she wasn’t doing anything really bad – except for ruining Twila’s pottery. I can’t wait until Twila finds out about that, by the way.”

  “I’m still going to have to kill her,” I said, linking my fingers with Bay’s and tugging her down the hill. “Do you think there’s any bacon left?”

  “If not, I’ll take you into town and buy you breakfast.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “After that, I’d like to take another shot at making sure you’re still without virtue.”

  “Only if you give me a massage later,” she replied. “My back is killing me.”

  “Sold.”

  Bacon, eggs and missing virtue – what’s not to love? This is the best way to spend a weekend.

  Nine

  “We saved you some bacon,” Winnie said, pushing a warm plate in front of me as I slumped in my usual spot at the dining room table. The guests were gone, their meals ingested and digested. I was glad for that, because I was about to go nuclear on Aunt Tillie – as soon as I had some breakfast.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m starving.” I glanced around the table. “Where did Bay go?”