Four-Leaf Clover: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

by Amanda M. Lee

  “Are you hiding from your fan club?” I asked.

  “I don’t have a fan club,” Aunt Tillie replied. “I have stalkers. There’s a difference.”

  “I’m not sure the majority of Hollywood starlets would agree with you there, but for the sake of argument, how do you figure you’re being stalked?”

  “Every time I turn around someone annoying is standing behind me,” Aunt Tillie answered. “They sneak up on me. No, that’s not the right word. They creep. Yeah, that’s better. They creep up behind me. They follow me down hallways and into my greenhouse. Do you know someone walked into my greenhouse without knocking?”

  “They should be drawn and quartered,” Thistle drawled.

  “How am I supposed to work in my … special field … when people are following me? It’s undignified, I tell you.”

  Aunt Tillie’s “special field” is actually a side pot business … accompanied by her illegal wine business … and she’s been making noise about building a still. She magically warded her field so people don’t accidentally stumble across it, but that doesn’t mean someone following her wouldn’t get an eyeful if she wasn’t careful.

  “It’s just about harvest time, isn’t it?” I asked, my mind busy.

  “Yes, you little stoner,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “Don’t even think of trying to go in there to harvest without me.”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  Aunt Tillie arched a challenging eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t thinking about it,” I protested, my voice hopping. “Why do you always assume the worst?”

  “Because you share genes with me and I know what I would do in your place,” Aunt Tillie shot back.

  “She has a point,” Thistle said. “You don’t have to worry about us harvesting without you, though. We remember the great Marijuana Meltdown of 2007. We couldn’t stop rhyming for days.”

  “That’s what you get for being snoopy little monsters.” Aunt Tillie was blasé. “Now, not that I’m not happy to shoot the breeze with you – I’m not, but I’ll pretend I am so you don’t think I’m rude – I actually have a reason for being here.”

  “I’m terrified to ask, but here it comes,” Thistle intoned. “What do you want?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked.” Aunt Tillie’s smile told me the exact opposite was true. “For the good of everyone – but especially for the sake of my mental health – I need that coin. I’m in need of a bit of luck, and I understand you have an endless supply of it.”

  I narrowed my eyes and instinctively turned so the pocket housing the coin was further away from her. “No way.”

  Aunt Tillie wasn’t about to be dissuaded. “Give it to me.” She extended her hand and shook it in front of my face.”

  “I said no.” I slapped her hand away, wrinkling my nose and adopting my best stern expression. “I didn’t bring it with me. I left it at the Dandridge this morning.”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes so hard she almost toppled over into Thistle’s lap. “You’re such a bad liar. How did I raise such a bad liar?”

  Thistle snorted. “You didn’t raise us. You just took us with you when you were doing something illegal because the cops were less likely to arrest you if you had three innocent faces to trot out. The fact that one of those faces could manufacture tears with minimal effort was merely a bonus.”

  “Especially because Chief Terry refused to do something that would’ve upset Bay,” I added.

  “Don’t kid yourself. Terry would’ve gone out of his way to protect all of you.” Aunt Tillie rolled her neck until it cracked. “Bay is definitely his favorite, but he loves both of you, too.”

  “I know. I saw him on the sidewalk today and he told me he was proud of me.”

  “That’s because he’s a good man and he knows how to make people feel better,” Aunt Tillie said. “Except me. He’s never cared about making me feel better.”

  “That’s probably because you’ve been a thorn in his butt so many times he’s lost count,” Thistle said sagely. “By the way, not to turn this to a topic that will agitate you, but have you figured out why all of these women are following you around?”

  Part of me was happy that Thistle couldn’t leave things alone and pointed the conversation away from my new good luck charm. For some irrational reason, I couldn’t help picturing myself as Gollum in the Lord of the Rings movies and felt a desperate need to protect my precious when Aunt Tillie demanded I hand it over. Where in Hecate’s pocket did that come from?

  “I have no idea, and I can’t force myself to talk to one of these women long enough to find out,” Aunt Tillie replied. “Do you know?”

  “I have no idea.”

  To the untrained observer, Thistle looked as if she was telling the truth. She was an accomplished liar when she put in only moderate effort. The way Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes told me that she didn’t believe my smug cousin, though.

  “What do you know?” Aunt Tillie lowered her voice to a dangerous level. “I can tell you know something. Don’t bother denying it.”

  “I don’t know anything!” Thistle’s voice took on a screechy tone. “Why are you always so suspicious? Can’t you simply believe me because I’m your niece and you love me?”

  “Did you just meet me?”

  “Yeah, I knew that was taking it a step too far,” Thistle grumbled. “I have no idea why the women are following you other than one of them heard some rumor that you’re the most powerful witch in the land and they’re prepared to worship you because of it.”

  Aunt Tillie pursed her lips. I could practically see her mind working. “Well, whoever started that rumor is a genius. That doesn’t mean I like it. I wonder who told them that.”

  “I asked, but they all named different women in their group,” Thistle offered. This time I was completely impressed with her lying ability. “It sounds like one of them heard a rumor and spread it as fact to the rest of them.”

  “Well, it is a fact.” Aunt Tillie crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t blame them for worshipping me. I’m quite extraordinary.”

  “You should be studied,” Thistle agreed, causing me to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “I don’t want to encourage them, though,” Aunt Tillie said. “Do you have any idea how annoying it is to have people following you around all of the time? I’m all-powerful and brilliant. That doesn’t mean I want people bugging me.”

  “Duly noted,” Thistle said, catching my eye as she smirked. “So, back to the important issues. Why do you think Clove’s coin will be able to help you?”

  I scorched her with a look. I couldn’t believe she had the audacity to turn the conversation back to my coin when I had much juicier dirt on her. “Oh, no,” I said. “I think we should focus on the fiend who told those women that Aunt Tillie was the most powerful witch in the Midwest. That’s potentially dangerous, and the person spreading that rumor should be taken in hand. So should anyone – any witch even – who has information on who this megalomaniac is and keeps it to herself.”

  Thistle made a face that would’ve been comical under different circumstances. Oh, who am I kidding? It was comical now. Somehow I managed to keep from laughing out loud.

  “I’m more interested in the coin for the time being,” Aunt Tillie said. “Now … gimme.”

  “No.” I rolled out of my chair and away from Aunt Tillie, annoyed. “It’s mine. Madam Rosa gave it to me. You can’t have it.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” Aunt Tillie sputtered. “In this family we share. That’s the number one rule in the Winchester household. Now … share.” She shook her hand in front of my face.

  “I thought the number one rule in our family was not to get caught,” Thistle mused. “You always added the caveat that if we did get caught to make sure we didn’t take anyone else down with us … especially you … so we should always have alibis at the ready in case ‘The Man’ stopped by for a chat.”

  Aunt Tillie rolled her eyes. “That’s a rule,
too. It’s not the number one rule, though. That thing I said about sharing is.”

  “Since when?” I challenged. “You always told us as teenagers that sharing was for ninnies.”

  “I only told you that when you got into my wine … and pot … and herbs … and anything else that was mine,” Aunt Tillie argued.

  “So basically you’re saying that I’m supposed to share with you, but you’re not supposed to reciprocate, right?” I challenged.

  “Exactly.” Aunt Tillie moved her hand again. “Gimme.”

  “No. It’s mine.”

  “Hold up.” Thistle climbed to her feet and stepped between us, her eyes flashing. “What if I said I have a compromise that will make everyone happy?”

  “I would say you’ve been harvesting my field without permission,” Aunt Tillie answered, not missing a beat.

  Thistle ignored the snarky response. “What if we all worked together as a group to test the coin to see if it works?”

  Aunt Tillie’s eyebrows arched up. “What do you have in mind?”

  Thistle’s demented smile was enough to make my stomach twist when her gaze landed on me. “I have a lot of ideas. I think we should try as many of them as possible.”

  That didn’t sound good for my physical or mental well-being. “But … .”

  “That is a great idea,” Aunt Tillie said, cutting me off. “Where should we start?”

  Thistle pointed toward the ladder. “I was thinking we might try a few physical tests, and then maybe we can buy some lottery tickets.”

  “You’re totally my favorite great-niece today,” Aunt Tillie enthused. “Let’s do it.”

  Seven

  “Ow! That hurt!”

  I ruefully rubbed my bottom as I turned a hateful glare in the direction of Thistle and Aunt Tillie. I was on the floor, a pillow under my rear end, and my cousin and great-aunt appeared to be amused by my recent show of luck. I, on the other hand, was starting to grate under the pressure.

  “That didn’t hurt,” Thistle scoffed, annoyed. “You landed on a huge pillow.”

  She was right. It didn’t hurt. I landed hard enough that it should’ve hurt, though. My mind reacted before my body, and I couldn’t stop myself from complaining. Our luck challenges lasted most of the afternoon, Thistle waiting on the customers as Aunt Tillie thought of a wild array of experiments. Every time my newfound luck came out to play they were awed and amused. I felt bolder as the hours ticked by, but I also had a niggling source of worry. What happened if I came to rely on the coin and it failed?

  Still, it had been an illuminating afternoon.

  We won five hundred bucks on a scratch-off lottery ticket – which Aunt Tillie put in her pocket when no one was looking.

  We played poker, and I won eight hands in a row. We played for Hershey’s Kisses, but I noticed Aunt Tillie scooped all of my winnings into her purse when I was distracted grabbing more candles from the storage room.

  We took to racing outside. I beat Thistle four times in a row before demanding we stop. Hey, I don’t want to sweat if it’s not for a good cause. Thistle has longer legs and always beat me in footraces when we were younger, so she should’ve won.

  Aunt Tillie hid a quarter in the stable. I found it within four minutes. Thistle’s boyfriend Marcus owned the stable. He merely shook his head as he watched us cavort. He appeared intrigued, but happy to let us meander about on our own.

  Aunt Tillie suggested a horse race, but I put the kibosh on that. Ever since Bay was thrown from a horse in the spring I’d been leery of getting on one.

  The most recent test involved placing a pillow in the middle of the room and then climbing on a ladder. Thistle then kicked the ladder out from under me, and each time I landed on the pillow instead of the hardwood floor surrounding it. I was nervous the first two times, but got used to the fall after that. Thistle relished her power in that scenario … right up until she realized I wasn’t getting hurt.

  “I think the coin is really magical,” Thistle announced, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean … that’s freaking amazing.”

  “It really is,” Aunt Tillie said, shuffling closer to me. “You’re a very lucky person, Clove.” I felt her hand in my pocket and jerked away, ignoring the innocent look she pasted on her face.

  “You are terrible. I’m not giving you my coin.” I stomped behind the counter and grabbed my phone. I’d had my fill of experiments for the day. “In fact, I’m kind of done. I’m going home.”

  “You can’t go home,” Aunt Tillie argued. “I haven’t stolen the coin from you yet. That’s not fair.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Do you ever listen to yourself?”

  “Every chance I get.”

  I did my best to tune her out as I glanced at the phone screen, my heart rolling when I realized I’d missed a text during my most recent fall. “Hey, guys!”

  “You hold her down, Thistle,” Aunt Tillie ordered. “I’ll get the coin.”

  “I’m not helping you,” Thistle shot back. “Making you more powerful is a terrible idea. That’s how evil dictatorships start.”

  “You’re on my list.”

  “Guys!” I yelled as I moved toward the door, paying them little heed. “Bay texted two minutes ago. She said someone was trying to break into the newspaper building and she asked us to call the police.”

  Thistle stilled. “That is the lamest lie I’ve ever heard.”

  “It’s not a lie!”

  “Why wouldn’t she call the police herself?”

  “Because she didn’t want the intruder to hear her,” I snapped. I held up the phone for proof. “Bay’s in trouble!”

  My family may be persnickety and full of annoying people who get joy out of messing with others, but the one thing every Winchester puts above all else is family loyalty. If Bay was really in trouble, we had to get to her.

  “I’ll call Chief Terry,” Thistle said, grabbing her phone. “Odds are we’ll beat him there, though.”

  “Odds are I’m going to beat someone,” Aunt Tillie announced. “That hoodie-wearing psycho had better watch out, because I’m in a mood.”

  She said that as if it was a new thing. The woman is always in a mood.

  IT TOOK us less than three minutes to run to the newspaper building. Despite her age, Aunt Tillie is surprisingly spry. She didn’t put up a whisper of complaint as we rushed in that direction. For a woman who does nothing but grouse, it was quite the accomplishment.

  “Clove, you take the back door,” Thistle ordered, keeping her voice low. “I’ll take Aunt Tillie through the front door with me.”

  I balked. “Are you joking?”

  “No.”

  “You want me to go alone?” Here’s the thing: I am not a coward. I’m completely brave and willing to sacrifice my life for a family member and all that other crap I’m supposed to say and think when someone I love is in danger. I don’t want to die if there’s no reason, though. If I’m going to lose my life, the sacrifice had better be worth it.

  “You won’t be alone,” Thistle argued. “The back door is hidden by that storage room, if you remember correctly. It’s far more likely that Aunt Tillie and I will see the robber than you will.”

  “Then why don’t I go with you and offer backup?”

  “Because we need to cover both doors in case The Hoodie Bandit rabbits. We really need to come up with a better name for him, too. The Hoodie Bandit makes him sound like a slacker looking for pot instead of a robber threatening the lives of Hemlock Cove’s finest.”

  I made a face. “Is that really what we should be worrying about right now?”

  “How about The Hooded Marauder?” Aunt Tillie suggested.

  “That’s much better.” Thistle nodded and then made small shooing motions with her hands. “Go to the back door.”

  “I … don’t want to.”

  “Then go through the front with Aunt Tillie and face the danger,” Thistle challenged. “We can’t put Aunt Tillie at the back door.” />
  “Mostly because I don’t want to walk that far,” Aunt Tillie interjected.

  Thistle ignored her. “Clove, those are your only two options.”

  I tilted my head to the side as I considered what to do. The fact that Bay could be in danger finally propelled me to a decision. “I’ll go in through the back.”

  “Good girl.”

  I left Thistle and Aunt Tillie and trudged toward the back of the building, casting the occasional glance over my shoulder. By the time I rounded the corner that led to the back door my heart was hammering and my palms were sweaty. I rubbed my hands over my jeans to alleviate some of the moisture before reaching for the handle.

  At that exact moment the door flew open and a hooded figure bolted out. He seemed as surprised to see me as I did him. I had a split second to register my surprise and soak up as many details as possible before the man grabbed my shoulders and tossed me off the narrow steps.

  “Get out of the way,” he growled.

  He tossed me with enough force that I should’ve flown over the railing and possibly broken my neck on an awkward landing – no, I’m not being dramatic. Instead, the pocket of my jeans caught on the jagged edge of the metal railing and I merely glanced to the side as he bolted to freedom.

  The unmistakable sound of pounding feet assailed my ears, and when I shifted my attention to the open doorway I found Thistle staring in the direction of the departing figure, her chest heaving.

  “Why didn’t you stop him?” she barked.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. Thank you so much for asking.”

  Thistle made an exaggerated face. “And the kvetch strikes again.”

  I can’t tell you how tired I am of hearing that word.

  I SAT ON the edge of Bay’s desk as she recounted her tale. She’d barely gotten into it before Landon burst through the door, his eyes furious as he scanned the room.