All My Witches (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 5)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “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.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop it.”

  “Oh, I’ll stop it.” Landon puffed out his chest. “If she tries taking you from me, I swear, I’m going to sit down in the middle of this stupid island and wait for the locusts to come. I won’t play the game without you.”

  I did my best to be diplomatic. “It’s not as if we’ll be separated forever.”

  “You sound as if you want it to happen.”

  “I don’t, but if I work myself into a tizzy before it happens, when it does happen – and I believe that’s what she’s working toward – I’ll start doing something embarrassing like crying. I don’t want that.”

  “I don’t want that either.” Landon pulled me into his arms and gave me a long hug. “There has to be a way to make sure we don’t get separated.”

  “The lesson is in the story,” I reminded him. “She loves soaps because most of the time the couples she loves end up together. Sure, occasionally it doesn’t happen because of actors and contracts, but a happy ending is the rule rather than the exception on soaps.”

  “And you think she’s going to give us a happy ending?”

  I smirked at the unintended double entendre. “I think the overblown sex fests in the mud pits are on purpose. I think the island stuff is on purpose. She knew I’d remember.”

  “I’m not going to give her the chance to separate us.” Landon was firm as he tightened his grip on my hand, squeezing so hard he almost cut off my circulation. “It’s not going to happen.”

  I opened my mouth, an attempt to soothe on the tip of my tongue. As if on cue, a scream ripped through the air and drew everyone’s attention to the waterfall in the distance. It wasn’t overly high, but given the flat surfaces around us it looked huge on the horizon.

  I gasped when I realized there was a figure falling from a high cliff into the churning waters below. “Holy … .”

  “Did you see that?” Thistle stepped up beside me. “Someone fell over that waterfall. I mean … they freaking fell! That can’t be right. That never happened on a soap, did it?”

  “I think it’s happened a few times.” I turned back to Landon to suggest we see if we could find the person who fell, but the spot where he stood moments before was empty. I turned in every direction, even though I knew it was a waste of time, and then faced Clove and Thistle. They were equally resigned, because Sam and Marcus were missing, too.

  “I knew this would happen,” I groused. “I knew she’d do this.”

  “She warned us,” Thistle noted. “You were right about that. The island was a warning.”

  “And what about the ducks?” I quirked an eyebrow as I turned back to Mrs. Gunderson and plucked one of the plastic floaters from the water. I flipped it over and read the message out loud. “You’ll find him when your heart is ready to give up the search.”

  “That’s a little on the nose, huh?” Thistle made a disgusted face. “I’m seriously going to strangle that old lady.”

  “I’m seriously going to help you.”

  If you were coming back from the dead, is the first thing you’d want to do is attend a wedding? I mean … I get it. If you’re married to one of the people involved in the second wedding, you probably want to stop them from being a bigamist. If they moved on that quickly, though, I would totally want them arrested.

  – Twila’s take on marital bliss

  Twelve

  “Queenie!”

  One of the guys in a mud pit – one who had another woman wrapped around him only seconds before – hopped to his feet and screamed as he looked toward the waterfall. I was so lost in thought I didn’t think to look away before my retinas risked being seared by the power of his nakedness. Thankfully the dude wore a Speedo, so I didn’t see anything that might scar me for life.

  “Who is Queenie?” Clove asked.

  “My wife.” The man was beside himself. “Didn’t you just see her? She went over the waterfall.”

  “But … how do you know it was your wife?” I was honestly interested in his answer. “That waterfall is way off in the distance. All we saw was what looked like a woman going over the falls. How can you possibly know it was your wife?”

  “Hutch, aren’t you coming back?” The woman the man left behind in the mud pit fixed him with a pointed and pouty look. “I’m getting cold without you to keep me warm.”

  “Hutch?” Thistle made a face. “Why would someone name their son Hutch?”

  “I don’t know, Thistle.” I fought the urge to smirk. “The mysteries of naming children are lost on me. Of course, your name is Thistle … something you keep forgetting.”

  “Oh, like Bay is better.”

  “Bay is much better than Thistle.”

  “Barely.”

  “Hey, we need to focus on the woman who went over the falls and the fact that we’ve lost our boyfriends,” Clove interjected. “Besides, we all know that Bay and Thistle are stupid names. Clove, on the other hand, is a brilliant name.”

  “Don’t make me force you into that mud pit,” I threatened. “I’ll bet that mud is really gross after they’ve been fornicating in it for hours. I’ll still make you eat it.”

  Clove made an exaggerated face. “That is the grossest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “And I stand by it.”

  “Will you people stop talking about inane things like names?” Hutch exploded. “My wife just fell over the falls.”

  “What do you care?” Thistle challenged. “You were making time with the hot chick in the mud pit. You obviously didn’t care about your wife.”

  “I’m dead.”

  “Are you really?” I wasn’t convinced. “You look fine to me. You’re well enough to get frisky in a mud pit. I’ve never seen a ghost do that before.”

  “It’s therapeutic,” Hutch snapped. “It opens up your pores and … other stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah? What were you trying to open up with that chick crawling all over you?”

  “I know!” Clove shot her hand in the air. “I know what he was trying to open with her.”

  “We’re not playing a game of perverted Mad Libs here,” Thistle supplied. “We all know what he was trying to open up with the chick.”

  “Hey, I don’t need this abuse.” The mud-covered woman scorched Thistle with a dark look. “I’m a good person.”

  “Yeah, we can tell.” Thistle rolled her eyes. “Why are we still here? We should be moving to another location to find the guys. That’s our primary concern. I say we head back toward that area behind the games and look for an exit.”

  “I don’t think we can move to another location,” I admitted. “I don’t think we’re finished here.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Because a woman fell over the falls right before the guys disappeared. I’ll bet they’re out there searching for her. Aunt Tillie won’t keep us apart for long – just long enough to torture us. She’ll want us together for whatever else she has planned.”

  “But how do you know that we’re going to meet back up here?” Clove challenged. “What if we’re supposed to go to another location?”

  “We would have a clue pointing us in that direction if that were the case. She’s been very clear with the clues. We’re not meant to leave just yet.”

  “So where do we go?”

  I pointed toward the falls. “That way … and I think we’re supposed to take this dude with us.” I turned to find Hutch making out with the woman from the mud pit. She was halfway out and perched on her elbows to make it easier for her to touch tongues with what could only be described as the grossest guy in the universe.

  “Hey!” I snapped my fingers near Hutch’s ear to get his attention.

  “What?” Hutch’s expression was sour. “What do you want? You’ve done nothing but yammer for the past five minutes and, quite frankly, I’m s
ick of it.”

  “That’s rich coming from a guy who just watched his wife go over the falls.”

  Hutch blanched. “She was my true heart and soul.”

  “Yeah, you’re doing an admirable job of mourning her,” I drawled. “I’m truly astounded by the depths of your love. In fact … you’re an inspiration to us all.”

  Hutch bobbed his head. “Thank you.”

  “Wow. Apparently sarcasm isn’t recognizable in the soap world,” Thistle complained. “We need to escape … and fast.”

  “Then let’s head toward the waterfall.”

  “But what if the guys aren’t there?” Clove’s tone bordered on whiny. “I mean … what if they head in this direction?”

  “Landon said he was going to sit in the center of the island and wait for you,” Thistle pointed out. “He sounded serious to me.”

  “He was frustrated that the disco ball didn’t lead to dance fever.”

  Thistle snorted. “He’s not the only one. Marcus never complains, but I thought he was going to melt down.”

  “It doesn’t matter what Landon says,” I supplied. “It matters what he’ll do. I’m sure he’s complaining bitterly right now.”

  “I’m sure that’s putting it mildly.”

  “He won’t sit down and do nothing, though,” I pressed. “He’ll look for me. He’ll want to find me. He won’t just sit back and let me do all the work.”

  “But what makes you think he’ll go to the falls?” Thistle asked. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because he’s an FBI agent. It’s in his nature to investigate. While he won’t be happy – and I’m sure Marcus and Sam want to throttle him right about now because his complaints are bound to be loud and vigorous – he’ll go for the waterfall because that’s the last thing we all saw before being separated. That’s the one clue we have to go on.”

  Thistle looked as if she wanted to argue, but she ultimately kept her mouth shut.

  “Let’s go.” Clove held out her hand. “I hope you’re right about this.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  IT SHOULD’VE TAKEN US HOURS to hike to the waterfall. I wasn’t great when it came to geography or distances – Landon often said I had a negative sense of direction – but the fact that we were standing in front of the majestic water display within twenty minutes didn’t sit well with me.

  “Did we find a wormhole to travel through when I wasn’t looking?”

  “Why are you complaining?” Clove wiped the back of her hand over her brow to swipe away the sweat. “I’m glad we don’t have to keep walking.”

  “That’s because you’re a kvetch,” Thistle said, turning her attention to the raging waters at the bottom of the waterfall. “Well, we’re here. I don’t see Marcus, Sam or Landon.”

  She didn’t go out of her way to sound argumentative, but I felt the sting of the unsaid accusation all the same. “They’re close.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. I feel it.”

  Thistle tilted her head to the side. It was odd seeing her with muted hair – it reminded me of when we were kids and her mother banned her from the hair dye aisle at Target after an unfortunate shoplifting incident – and for some reason it made her look younger. She looked almost vulnerable.

  “Marcus is fine,” I said. “Aunt Tillie would never let anything happen to him.”

  “I know he’s fine,” Thistle muttered. “I just don’t want to spend time with you two when I could be with him.”

  Of course, even when she looked vulnerable she was often a pain in the butt. “They’re close. We’ll find them soon.”

  “You’d better be right.” Thistle moved to the edge of the water and dropped to her knees to study something embedded in the soft mud. “There’s a footprint here.”

  I looked over her shoulder. “It looks like a smaller foot.”

  “A woman,” Thistle said. “Maybe it’s Hutch’s beloved wife.”

  “I miss her so much.” Hutch’s eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, even though he hadn’t shed a tear during the walk. “I’ll never get over her loss.”

  “How many times have you been married?” I asked.

  “Eight. Each one was a treasure and gift.”

  “I figured.” I rolled my neck until it cracked. “I’m sorry for your loss, but there’s a very real chance that your wife survived the fall and walked off that way.” I pointed toward what looked to be a small mountain. “Hey, I don’t remember the island having a mountain. When we landed, it was as flat as … well, Thistle’s personality when she has a hangover.”

  “You’ll pay for that when we get home.” Thistle dusted off her hands on her jeans as she stood. “I guess we need to follow the footprints to find our next scene.”

  “Does anyone else think we should just hang out here?” Clove asked, splashing the cool water on her face. “It’s nice and pretty. I just know wherever we’re going next won’t be nice and pretty.”

  “It sounds like an intriguing option, but we need to work through the scenes to get out of here,” I reminded her. “We can’t sit around and wait.”

  “You’re very smart,” Hutch intoned, leaning closer. His eyes were clear and he had a flirtatious smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you how smart you are?”

  I shifted away from him, lobbing a glare as I increased the distance between us. “Don’t invade my personal space.”

  “That’s not what I was doing.” Hutch was all innocence and light. “I was merely talking about your intelligence.”

  “Well … stay over there when you wax poetic about what a genius I am.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Hutch bobbed his head. “Did I mention that intelligent women turn me on? Also … I love blondes.”

  He made my stomach twist. “What color was your wife’s hair?”

  “Who can remember things like that?”

  “Ugh, you’re a complete and total tool.” I ground my molars. “Let’s go. We need to follow the footprints. Landon is probably going crazy.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Thistle said. “I kind of want to punch someone.”

  “I suggest Hutch.”

  “You read my mind.”

  WE WALKED ANOTHER ten minutes before the sound of voices assailed our ears. I hurried over a hill, pulling up short when I caught sight of a woman with long red hair standing in the middle of a small clearing. Behind her, a cabin materialized, making me think we’d arrived in the woods rather than remained on an island.

  “Queenie?” Hutch asked, confused.

  The woman turned, her eyes latching onto mine. I might not have recognized the hair – it was ridiculously red, after all – but I did recognize the face. “Lila?”

  “Oh, you just knew we weren’t going to make it out of here without seeing her,” Thistle seethed. “Someone punch her before she gets a chance to open her mouth.”

  I considered arguing with the sentiment, but even a fake Lila was an annoying Lila … and punching her in the face always held at least minimal appeal.

  “Queenie, I can’t believe it’s you.” Hutch took a hesitant step forward, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I thought you were dead.”

  “And he was really torn up about it, too,” Thistle deadpanned. “For a second there we thought he might throw a party or something.”

  Lila didn’t look nearly as happy to see Hutch as he did to see her. “I can’t believe you found me. Are you stalking me? Are you trying to force me to do the one thing I don’t want to do … again?”

  “I would never force you to do what you don’t want to do,” Hutch protested. “I love you.”

  “Well, I don’t love you,” Lila shot back. “I’ve found someone else. I’ve found my true love.”

  Hutch planted his hands on his hips. “And who is this rogue?”

  “His name is Jericho Steele … and he’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”

  I should’ve seen that coming. “Jericho? Is he here?”

&
nbsp; “He’s close,” Lila replied. “He’s waiting for me in there.” She gestured toward the cabin. “We’re going to run away together and start a new life.”

  “But you’re pregnant with my baby,” Hutch challenged.

  Lila balked. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I replaced your birth control pills with sugar tablets.” Hutch turned aggressive. He was no longer the amiable tool hanging around a therapeutic mud pit with a woman he barely knew. He wasn’t even the annoying sniffle monster who followed us to the waterfall while moaning about his probably dead wife. Now he was something else entirely. “I knew you were running around on me. I knew you were cheating. I had to stop you.”

  “And getting me pregnant when it was the exact opposite of what I wanted was your plan?” Lila was beside herself. “You’re a fiend!”

  “Oh, geez.” Thistle pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “I may be a fiend,” Hutch shot back. “But I’m a fiend who gets what he wants, and I want you.”

  “Since when?” Thistle’s irritation was on full display. “You had your tongue down some other woman’s throat an hour ago.”

  “That is a lie!” Hutch roared. “I love only my wife.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I so don’t want to be part of this conversation. Lila, where is Landon?”

  Lila was confused. “Who is Landon?”

  “Who is Lila?” Hutch asked.

  I sucked in a breath and regrouped. “Queenie, where is Jericho?”

  “I told you, he’s in the cabin,” Lila replied. “He’s waiting for me.”

  I had doubts Landon would ever wait for Lila, but I was eager to be reunited with him so I moved past Lila and left her to argue to her heart’s content with Hutch. Their issues were not my issues. At least I hoped they weren’t my issues.

  “Landon?” I waited for him to answer, but when nothing happened I tried again. “Landon?”

  “Bay?”

  The voice didn’t come from the cabin. It came from the woods to our right. I turned in that direction, my eyes going wide when I saw Landon push his way through the trees. He was shirtless – again – but his eyes were wide and his relief, even from a hundred feet away, was palpable.