Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2)

by Christiana Miller

  “It’s turning out just fine for me,” it hissed, before dissipating into the walls.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked Gus, my eyes darting around the room.

  The Dobies sat up, alert and on edge, growling and looking around.

  “The only thing I hear is the chattering of my teeth.” He got up to toss another log onto the fire.

  Soft laughter reverberated through the room.

  “Tell me you heard that?!” I yelped, gripping my mug.

  The back door slammed open. A blast of freezing cold air whooshed into the cottage, blowing out the flames in the fireplace, and smashing the lamp to the ground.

  The Dobies ran for their hiding spot, under the couch, and wedged themselves in together.

  “What the fuck?!” Gus hollered, forcing the words out as a windstorm invaded our cottage. Over the roar of the wind, I could hear the puppies howling and barking from their hideaway under the couch.

  The back door slammed shut, but the wind continued blowing inside the cottage, spiraling faster and faster.

  As the currents grew stronger, it was a struggle to stay upright.

  Bottles, pictures, tchotchkes crashed onto the floor.

  Gus anchored himself to one of the stone columns that buttressed the fireplace.

  I pushed my way through the tempest, trying to get over to him, but I had to fight for every step.

  Before I could reach a stationary object, the whirlwind lifted me off the ground and sent me hurtling through the air.

  I screamed, but the sound was ripped out of my throat by the sheer force of the wind.

  I was an inch away from slamming into the wall, when the wind gently and unexpectedly died down.

  I half-fell, half-slid to the ground, amid a pile of overturned chairs and shattered ceramic.

  Gus was at my side in a matter of seconds. “Are you all right?”

  I gingerly moved one limb at a time.

  Everything was working.

  I turned my focus inward to the baby.

  Move, baby. Show me you’re okay.

  Nothing.

  Honey, please. You’re freaking your momma out here.

  Slowly, I felt a stirring.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Gus. “We’re okay.”

  Gus opened the front door and looked out over the porch and yard. “What the fuck just happened?” He asked, looking around. Everything was calm. None of the snow had shifted, not even an inch.

  “How should I know? You’re the one who caused it. What did you do while you were in the Realm of Faery?” I snapped.

  “It wasn’t me,” he protested.

  “Right. Because indoor tornadoes happen all the time in Wisconsin.”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  “Bull,” I looked around at how badly the wind had trashed the room. It was in total chaos. “We got slammed by a freaking Gusnado.”

  “It wasn’t me—at least, not just me. I thought we agreed, it’s this place. It’s not my fault your cottage takes a simple little magical working and multiplies it tenfold.”

  “Simple working, my ass.” I gingerly stood up. “Simple-minded, maybe.”

  “Don’t jump on my shit, woman. You’re the one letting a golden opportunity go to waste.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, still glaring at him.

  “Earth to Mara. Do you know how many witches would pay to do their rituals at a place like this? This cottage is sitting on some wicked powerful leylines. You could make a fortune.”

  I snorted. “Sure. That sounds like a really great idea. That way, I can have every witch and wanna-blessed-be contacting me at all hours, from all over the globe, trying to get in here and cause all sorts of havoc, just like you do. Destroying my house and trying to kill themselves—and possibly us—in the process. I don’t think so. You know what sounds like a better idea?”

  “What?”

  I felt a growl rising in my chest and before I could stop it, I was yelling at the top of my lungs. “Tone down your fucking rituals!”

  I was so mad, every muscle in my body was shaking.

  The thing was, Gus actually did have a point. Locations that would make most people run screaming, are like heaven-sent manna to witches. It was one of the reasons I wasn’t about to give up the cottage. Sitting on top of an open portal to the Otherworld, is beyond awesome—if you’re a witch. If you’re not, you need to get the hell out before the place destroys you. Sell and sell fast. Advertise it to witches and you’ll be able to unload any kind of haunted locale in a heartbeat.

  But, as a witch, you also had to be super-careful what kind of mayhem you called up when you were living in an open portal. And Gus seemed incapable of understanding that concept. I’d bet he’d feign complete ignorance of the word careful, even if I tattooed it and its definition on his ass.

  “You should try some meditation.” Gus said, shaking his head. “All this stress can’t be good for the baby.”

  “Meditation isn’t my problem,” I snapped, when I could talk again. “You are. Instead of driving me crazy and courting the wrath of the Weather Gods and the Winter Queen, why don’t you try being patient for a fucking change?”

  “Because fifty years is a geological pace,” he snapped. “Not a Gus pace. “Think of it as helping a good cause.”

  “It’s the Internet, Gus! Not everything you read is fact. In fifty years, Grundleshanks won’t be decomposed, he’ll be a freaking fossil.”

  I stomped off to my bedroom, followed by the (understandably anxious) puppies. Right now, they were the only company I wanted to share a room with.

  Chapter 12

  The next day, I woke up to parka weather, a cleaned-up living room and a depressed Gus. We were out of milk, but he was so contrite about the damage he had caused, when he saw me pouring decaf coffee on cereal, instead of poking fun at me or lecturing me about the evils of carbs, he ran out to the grocery store and completely restocked our kitchen.

  As the week progressed, the weather warmed up. The first few days, we went from a wind chill of 120 below—so cold that the brakes in my car froze—to 30 degrees. It was so warm, it actually started snowing again. From there, the temperature kept climbing and the sparkly snow turned into wet, melted slush. Soon, the snow was replaced by a light rain. As it gently washed away the last of the slush and nourished the earth, winter was starting to feel a lot like spring. Especially when I took the puppies out in the woods and the mud was so deep, it almost pulled one of my hiking boots off. We all needed a bath after that walk.

  Thankfully though, we had no repeat occurrences of indoor weather or that eerie voice. Since Gus swore he hadn’t heard it, I was starting to wonder if it had been my imagination.

  Gus, however, was still moping around. He wanted a ninety-degree heat wave and he wanted it now.

  I almost felt sorry for him—until he waltzed into the kitchen one morning, throwing around attitude and judgmental looks.

  “We need to replace the furniture.”

  “The furniture is fine. What we need to do, now that you’re back, is nail it to the floor.” I said. “There’s no telling what kind of weather phenomenon you’re going to call up next.”

  “It’s dated.”

  “It’s antique.”

  “It’s too tacky to be antique.”

  “So says the King of Tacky. Wasn’t your last coffee table a naked mermaid holding a glass disc?”

  “That wasn’t tacky. That was kitsch.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Kitsch is fun.”

  I snorted and took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. I was having mega-cravings for french toast with powdered sugar.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” Gus said, taking the carton out of my hand and putting it back in the fridge. He opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Take your bad attitude and get ye gone, daughter of Eve. Forrest will be here any minute.”

  “Who the heck is Forrest?” I asked,
confused. “And what happened to depressed Gus? Who let perky Gus out of his cage?”

  Gus waggled his eyebrows at me. “That would be Forrest. He’s the giddy-up in my go-go-go. He’s the sugar in my lemonade. The color red in my crayon box.”

  “The cog in your cliche-machine. Got it. What happened with that Jack guy you hooked up with in Chicago?”

  “You’ve got to keep up, girlfriend. Jack was so three weeks ago. I met Forrest at the gas station before I left for Chicago. I didn’t think about him again, until I met him at the grocery store this week. Who knew your lack of domestic skills would land me a sweet thing like him? Decaf coffee on your cereal? Really?”

  “Hey! It’s a liquid.”

  “It’s disgusting. Anyway, we went on our first date last night,” he said, looking happier than I had seen him in awhile.

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “You were asleep. That’s all you do anymore. When you’re not bitchin’, you’re sleepin’. Or eatin’.”

  “Baby on the way, hello.” I said, pointing at my belly. “Cranky, tired and hungry pretty much defines my pregnancy.”

  “What-evs, baby mama. Besides, I didn’t want to get your hopes up, if it didn’t work out. Not to change the subject, but did you notice the outdoor thermometer? Sixty and climbing.”

  I sighed. “I really hope this weather thing doesn’t bite us all in the ass.”

  There was the sound of a car horn outside.

  “Speaking of ass-hickeys…” Gus ran to the front room to look out of the window. “There’s my guy. Gotta go.”

  “Seriously? Are you providing drive-thru blowjobs now? Is that why he’s not coming in?” I asked, following him. I felt snappish and surprisingly, more than a little jealous that someone new was now going to be taking up all of Gus’s time.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter, you nasty girl.” Gus pulled out his cell phone and texted Forrest. “Be right out. Oooh, he says he’s got a surprise for me.”

  “I hope it doesn’t involve penicillin.” I handed him back his twenty. “Can I go ahead and make my breakfast now? Since your new boyfriend doesn’t have enough manners to come inside and pick you up?”

  Gus made a face and blew me a kiss. “Try not to set the house on fire while I’m gone, Sybil. Maybe you could let one of your nicer personalities come out to play by the time I get back.”

  I flipped him off as he slammed out the front door.

  * * *

  After breakfast, I opened the windows to air out the house, then sat down at Aunt Tillie’s desk. Although, I guess it was my desk now. I was still getting used to that idea, because the furniture still felt so much like Aunt Tillie. Maybe Gus was right about replacing it.

  The puppies settled in by my feet for an after-meal nap and I booted up my laptop to see about getting him his own mini-fridge as a Yule present. I wondered how much it would cost to hire someone to build Gus his own little cottage get-away in the back yard. That way, he could move in there and stop annoying me so much.

  After spending way too much time on shopping sites—mini-fridges weren’t anywhere near as expensive as I thought they’d be, but custom-built sheds that looked like miniature log-cabin houses were way more than I could afford—I checked my bank account. It was dwindling at an alarming rate.

  The online store wasn’t making anywhere near the profit we had thought it would and with a baby on the way, money worries were burning a hole in my psyche. During my long month without Gus, I had gone out and tried to find a part-time job, but no one wanted to hire a pregnant woman. I was starting to feel the familiar cold fingers of fear and desperation wrapping around me, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Chapter 13

  As I searched online job sites, the room grew ice cold. The puppies stirred and looked around. They focused on the rocking chair and started to growl, in unison.

  I sighed and shut down my laptop. Witches were hard enough on computers—I didn’t want to take a chance on a ghost blowing the motherboard.

  “I know you’re here, Aunt Tillie. What’s up?”

  Aunt Tillie appeared in her rocking chair. “Divine bliss and eternal happiness got old. So I thought I’d drop in. Your mom and I have been discussing decorating ideas for the nursery.” She looked me over and zoomed her focus into my belly. “The baby’s doing well. Oh, look at that face. So cute!”

  “Hey!” I said, covering my baby bump. “Stop looking inside my body like that. It creeps me out.” After a second, I added “Really? Is the baby really doing well? Is it a she? It is, isn’t it? Or is it a he?”

  Aunt Tillie sniffed. “You said stop. So I did.” She looked around, frowning. The windows were open, and outside, birds were singing and flowers were starting to bloom. “What month are we in? Isn’t this supposed to be winter?”

  “I think Gus’s experimentation with weather magic may actually be working. Come back in a few days and I’ll be in shorts and a tank top.”

  Aunt Tillie turned to me, her mouth a thin, tight line.

  “Hey! Don’t give me the stink-eye. I told him it was a bad idea.”

  “Eating month-old fish is a bad idea. Manipulating the weather is a catastrophic idea. He needs to turn this around now, or mark my words, you’ll both regret it. You have no idea what kind of forces you’re toying around with.”

  “I know,” I said. “Messing with Mother Nature, B-A-D. I’ll tell him.”

  “You are such an idiot. Grow a brain, girl, and do the MacDougal line proud.”

  “Is it MacDougal or McDougal?” I asked. “I’ve seen it both ways in the paperwork.”

  She gave me an odd look, as if I had derailed her train of thought by lobbing horseflies at her. “It was MacDougal in Scotland, but it was changed to McDougal by a careless clerk at Ellis Island. Americans always think they know best when it comes to spelling. Personally, I prefer Mac to Mc, but a hundred years from now, what will it matter? Now can we get back to the topic at hand?”

  “I was hoping we were done with that topic,” I said.

  “So was I. I was hoping you’d learned your lesson with Lisette and the mess you got us all into. But here you are, doing it again.”

  “How is Gus’s mess my fault?!”

  “We both know that boy of yours can develop unhealthy obsessions, and he never thinks out the consequences. Mark my words, this weather ritual of his is going to bite both of you. And what he’s planned next is even worse.”

  I blew out a cross sigh. Of course. That’s why she was here. The toad bone ritual. “Gus just wants to honor Grundleshanks.”

  “Oh, he wants more than that.” Aunt Tillie snapped. “He wants the type of dominion humans are not allowed to have.”

  I raised an eyebrow and gave her my best don’t be stupid look.

  Aunt Tillie didn’t appreciate my attitude. A stack of books jumped off a shelf and crashed to the ground.

  “Would you knock that off?” I said, annoyed. “Other people have done the ritual.”

  “Not many. Not often. And definitely not with that toad. You stupid children. You know just enough to get you into trouble and not enough to get you out. Why do you think the practice stopped?”

  “Let me guess. Witches who tried and failed died, right? Isn’t that how the line goes? You really need to chill with the dire warnings. Been there, done that, got the hoodie. They’re losing their effectiveness.”

  “No,” she said, equally annoyed. “Witches who failed were driven into madness and despair. Witches who succeeded died. The last thing I want is you two nincompoops showing up on my side of the Veil, destroying the place.”

  I couldn’t decide if that was an insult or a left-handed compliment. “We don’t particularly want to cross over yet, ourselves. And are you talking all witches, most witches or some witches? It couldn’t have been everyone. The Horsemen didn’t go mad or die. Or by die, did you mean, eventually? Because eventually, we’re all going to die.”

  She harrumphed and gave me a
cross-eyed stare. “Don’t push me, or you’ll find the toad bone isn’t the only thing that can confer a fate worse than death. I don’t know why I even bother with you two.”

  I sighed. “I’ve already told him to pull back on his rituals. What more do you want me to do?”

  “Take the toad away from him.”

  “And tell him what? A mysterious toad thief struck in the middle of the night?”

  “Why do you need to say anything? Haven’t you ever heard of pleading the fifth, child? Throw the damn thing in the lake, and deny, deny, deny.”

  While I was thinking how annoying it was that people kept telling me what to do, no matter which side of the Veil they happened to be on, I must have fallen asleep.

  The next thing I knew, the puppies were climbing up on my shoulders, their little puppy tongues licking me awake.

  I set the puppies down and glanced over at Aunt Tillie’s quietly rocking chair. I opened my sight and could sense her still there.

  “Aunt Tillie?”

  Either she wasn’t in a talkative mood, or she had used up her ectoplastic energy for the day, because she remained silent.

  Outside, the sun was shining so brightly, it was heating up the house and I was starting to sweat. I got up and went to the back door, to check the thermometer. The temperature had risen to seventy degrees.

  What if Aunt Tillie was right? What was Gus’s faux summer going to do to the natural order of things? Even worse, what if she was right about Grundleshanks? Would Gus go mad? Would we have to go into hiding? Was there such a thing as a Witches Protection Program? How badly were we going to be regretting everything, a month from now?

  Chapter 14

  Gus didn’t come home that night. By the time I let the Dobies out for their morning gallop the next day, it was seventy-five degrees. I thought about going on a Grundleshanks-finding mission with the Dobes, but if they found the toad, it would not end well. And if I found him, queasy wouldn’t even begin to cover my reaction.

  Aunt Tillie was just going to have to deal with Gus on her own. If any ghost was capable of being a huge pain in the ass, it was my Aunt Tillie.