A Witch In Time

  A Witch In Time

  A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book Two

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2016 by Amanda M. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  1. One

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  2. Two

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  3. Three

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  4. Four

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  5. Five

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  6. Six

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  7. Seven

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  8. Eight

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  9. Nine

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  10. Ten

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  11. Eleven

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  12. Twelve

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  13. Thirteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  14. Fourteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  15. Fifteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  16. Sixteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  17. Seventeen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  18. Eighteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  19. Nineteen

  Aunt Tillie’s Musings

  20. Twenty

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Growing pot is only illegal if you get caught. If you don’t get caught, it’s a hobby. As a worldly woman, of course I like having a hobby. Do you see me knitting? Those needle things are only good for stabbing someone in the neck. You not liking my hobby is merely a bonus. Think of it more as a second hobby.

  – Aunt Tillie to Landon when he demanded the whereabouts of her pot field for the hundredth time

  One

  The wind howled so loudly I thought the siding was coming off The Overlook. The storm raging through Hemlock Cove was a big one, and it was only supposed to get bigger – if the evening news was to be believed, that is.

  I paced the lobby of the family inn, convinced my plans were a lost cause and I would be spending the weekend alone as I gnawed on my fingernails. I was about to pull my cell phone out of my pocket and place the inevitable call I’d been dreading for the last hour when the front door banged open. I initially thought it was the roof coming down, and jumped, instinctively moving away from the window. Instead of falling debris, though, I crashed into my boyfriend.

  Landon Michaels, his long hair drenched and out of place, caught me before I could tumble backward. Despite his disheveled appearance, I’d never been happier to see him – and that’s a remarkable feat given the fact that he’s saved my life several times.

  “I was worried,” I said, tossing my arms around his neck.

  Landon returned the embrace even as he pushed the door shut. “I’m wet, sweetie,” he said. “Give me a moment to get out of this coat. I have dry stuff in my bag. At least … well … I hope it’s still dry.”

  I didn’t break from the hug, instead tightening it. Landon ultimately relented and hugged me close.

  “What’s wrong, Bay?” he asked, worry creasing his forehead when I glanced up and wiped the rain from his cheek. “Did something happen?”

  I shook my head and offered him a quick kiss before taking a step back. He was right about me getting wet. I was officially soaked through the front. I didn’t care, though. “I was worried about you,” I admitted. “The television says they’re closing roads because of the storm. I thought maybe you wouldn’t make it.”

  Landon technically lived in Traverse City, which was about an hour away from my home in Hemlock Cove in northern Lower Michigan. I say “technically” because he spends more nights here with me than in his own apartment. He goes out of his way to get here as often as possible – even when a storm threatens his journey.

  “I’m an FBI agent,” Landon reminded me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A storm can’t stop me.”

  He’s too cute and charming for his own good. Still, I was relieved to see him. “How are the roads?”

  “Do you want me to lie so you’ll feel better, or tell the truth so I can get a lot of sympathy sex tonight?” Landon asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

  That charm comes and goes … although I was so happy he was here I was probably going to give him as much sympathy sex as he could handle. “Lie to me.”

  “The roads are great, sweetie,” Landon said, dropping his duffel bag on the lobby floor. The Overlook is co-owned by mother and her two sisters, and the guesthouse where I live with my cousin Thistle is located on the property. Our other cousin, Clove, recently moved in with her boyfriend, so we had more room than we were used to and it had become a struggle for guesthouse dominance – but that’s a story for another time. “I think they’re totally overestimating this storm. It’s not going to be bad at all.”

  I narrowed my eyes, his words unconvincing even as he gave the lie his best effort. “The television said we could be in for a tornado or two,” I pointed out. “That doesn’t sound like they’re overestimating anything.”

  Landon shrugged. “You said you wanted me to lie.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “It’s not great,” Landon said. “I’m here, though. Even if the storm gets worse – which is pretty likely – we’ll be perfectly safe. We have each other … and if I’m not mistaken, I smell pot roast.” Landon lifted his nose as if he was a dog scenting his prey. “And chocolate cake.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. He was nothing if not blessed in the olfactory department. “Mom cooked all of your favorites because she was worried about you making the drive, too. You know, it probably would’ve been safer for you to stay in Traverse City for the night. You didn’t have to come.”

  Landon snorted. “Are you fishing for a compliment?” he asked. “Do you want me to say that I couldn’t stay away from you for even one night?”

  “You stay away from me three nights every week,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, but they’re torturous nights,” Landon teased, grabbing my waist and pulling me close. “Nothing could have kept me from this place for the weekend. I don’t want this to go to your head, but I’m pretty fond of you. In fact, there’s a rumor going around that I might love you.”

  I cocked a challenging eyebrow. “A rumor?”

  “I need to substantiate it,” Landon said, planting a scorching kiss on me. I was so lost in the moment I forgot he was soaked and a storm raged outside. That lasted only until someone cleared a throat behind us.

  I swiveled, not surprised in the least to find my mother watching us with a dark look as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “We weren’t doing anything,” I said.

  “Yes, I saw what you weren’t doing,” Mom replied, shaking her blond head. “Do you mind not doing it in a place where the guests can see you feeling each other up?”

  She was in a foul mood. I saw her go through the inn on a tear an hour before, but I was so worried about Landon I didn’t give it much thought. The women under this roof – all four of them part of the wacky Winchester witch brood – tend to take their dinner theater seriously.

  Yes, you read that ri
ght. My name is Bay Winchester and I’m a witch. All of the Winchester women are witches. We have magical powers and special abilities. We’re also drama queens and prone to histrionic fits. Hey, no one is perfect.

  “What’s wrong?” Landon asked, girding himself for another Winchester family freakout. “If Aunt Tillie did something, tell me now so we can flee to the guesthouse. I don’t want to risk getting stuck here for the night if you guys are gearing up for the next world war.”

  Mom made a face that would’ve been comical under different circumstances. Oh, who am I kidding? It was hilarious, and I had to press my face against Landon’s chest to keep from laughing. Landon rubbed the back of my head as he met Mom’s dark glare head-on. “She was worried about me getting here and she’s very snuggly tonight,” he said, not missing a beat. “That’s another reason we don’t want to get into it with you guys.”

  “What are you going to eat if you run away to the guesthouse?” Mom challenged, refusing to let Landon get one over on her. “The only thing they have down there is a jar of pickles and a box of Twinkies.”

  “Hey, I’ll have you know I can think of at least five things to do with those Twinkies,” Landon replied. “We can live on Twinkies.”

  “And love,” I added, giggling when he poked my ribs.

  Mom rolled her eyes, although a hint of a smile flitted across her face before she vanquished it. “For the record, nothing is wrong,” she said. “I need Bay to do a favor for me before dinner, though.”

  “What favor?” I asked, straightening.

  “I need you to run an errand,” Mom said, averting her gaze. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “No way,” Landon said, shaking his head. “It’s bad out there. She’s not driving anywhere. What’s so important you’d ask her to go out in this?” Landon pointed toward the window for emphasis.

  “I don’t want her to drive anywhere,” Mom clarified. “I need her to walk down to the greenhouse.”

  Now it was my turn to make a face. “It’s raining buckets out there,” I argued. “I’m not walking to the greenhouse. What do you need from the greenhouse? If it’s herbs for dinner, just do without. I’m not risking death by drowning or getting struck by lightning because you need chives for the potatoes.”

  Mom’s eyes widened at my diatribe while Landon’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. She wasn’t nearly as amused as he was.

  “I don’t need chives,” Mom said.

  “Then what do you want me to get?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  “I need you to collect Aunt Tillie.”

  I frowned. My persnickety great-aunt was known for causing problems, but even she wouldn’t venture outside in something like this. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean your great-aunt is in the greenhouse and I need you to get her,” Mom repeated, shooting me a “well, duh” look. “I don’t know how I can clarify things to make them easier for you to understand in this particular situation.”

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” Landon charged, catching my mother off guard. “It’s not her fault Aunt Tillie took off in a storm. It’s not her responsibility to get her either. If you want her so badly, you go and get her.”

  Landon generally sucks up to my mother because she keeps him in food – good food, at that – and he knows he’ll starve if left to our own devices. I was surprised he was picking now to challenge my mother since even the option of driving to town to eat at another establishment was seemingly off the table.

  My mother’s expression was initially murderous, but then softened. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have spoken to her that way. I’m worried about Aunt Tillie, though. She shouldn’t be out in this. She’s elderly. It could be dangerous.”

  That speech would’ve shamed a mortal man, but Landon was superhuman so he merely snorted in reply.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Mom asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “That means that Aunt Tillie is perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” Landon replied, unruffled. “Heck, for all we know, she created the storm.”

  Landon was aware of our witchy ways. He had mostly managed to wrap his mind around everything, but the fact that Aunt Tillie could control the weather when she put her evil mind to it still baffled him. He was doing remarkably well for a man who didn’t know that magic existed a year and a half earlier, so I cut him some slack. My mother was another story.

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Mom said. “Aunt Tillie is still capable of falling. The wind is really going out there, too. What if she gets hit in the head by flying debris?”

  “I thought witches liked tornados?” Landon asked, bargaining for time. He obviously wasn’t keen on returning to the storm.

  “I’ll get her,” I said, putting him out of his misery. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change your clothes, and I’ll handle Aunt Tillie? I’ll need dry clothes when I get back inside, Mom. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “No one needs your lip,” Mom sniffed. “I have something you can wear.”

  “It had better not be one of those tracksuits,” I warned, internally shuddering at the memory of the matching tracksuits my mother and aunts pull out for special occasions. And by “special occasions” I mean whenever they want to embarrass the rest of us.

  “I believe you have a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt you left here when you were doing laundry a few weeks ago,” Mom countered. “Will that do, your highness?”

  “Oh, don’t get snippy with me,” I muttered, blowing out a dramatic sigh and moving toward the rear of the inn. “I’m the one getting soaked because you don’t want to go outside and get Aunt Tillie yourself.”

  “I’m not loving the attitude, Bay,” Mom yelled at my back. “Wait … where are you going, Landon?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and found Landon trailing me. “You don’t have to come,” I said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “I’m not letting you go out in this alone,” Landon replied, his tone firm. “We’ll do it together. Then we can change into dry clothes together. It will be the highlight of my day.”

  “No funny business under this roof when we have guests,” Mom chided. “You know the rules.”

  Landon pretended he didn’t hear her. “My pot roast better be excellent after this,” he said. “The bread better be warm, too.”

  “You get bossier and bossier the more you hang around here,” Mom shot back.

  “I learned it from all of you,” Landon replied, grabbing my hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s see what the wickedest witch in the Midwest is up to.”

  BY THE time Landon and I made it to the greenhouse we were completely soaked through. The slope between the inn and greenhouse was slick, and I slipped twice. Even though I would never admit it to my mother, I was secretly glad she sent me after Aunt Tillie. For a woman in her eighties, my great-aunt was surprisingly spry. If she fell in this, though, the damage might be enough to sideline her for a long while.

  I threw open the door to the greenhouse and strode inside, glaring at Aunt Tillie as she worked with a seedling at the far end of the room. She didn’t even bother glancing up.

  “Aunt Tillie, we have to go,” I said through gritted teeth, annoyance at her refusal to even acknowledge me grating my insides. “Mom wants you up at the inn. She sent us to get you.”

  “I’m good,” Aunt Tillie replied, blasé. “I’m working.”

  I glanced at Landon for support. He wasn’t in the mood to put up with anyone’s crap, so he took a more direct approach.

  “Get your butt in gear,” Landon ordered. “The storm is picking up and there could be tornadoes. You cannot be in a building made mostly of windows when a tornado is coming.”

  “We won’t get hit by a tornado,” Aunt Tillie said. “I would know if that was going to happen.”

  “Can you see the future?” Landon challenged. It took him a moment to remember who he was dealing with and he locked gazes with me. “Wait … can she see the future?�
�

  I shook my head. “No one has that gift,” I answered. “Not even her. She’s just posturing.”

  “I’m not posturing,” Aunt Tillie argued. “I’ll come up to inn when I’m ready. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Landon knit his eyebrows and moved toward Aunt Tillie. Neither of us missed the fact that she tried to turn her shoulders and shelter the plant she was potting from prying eyes. That couldn’t be good, especially because Aunt Tillie had a pot field she magically cloaked from law enforcement’s eyes and she’d been expressly forbidden from growing contraband in the greenhouse when it was gifted to her.

  “What is that?” Landon asked.

  “Chives.”

  “They don’t look like any chives I’ve ever seen,” Landon argued. “Bay, are those chives?”

  “I … .” I was caught. I couldn’t lie to Landon, but if I squealed on Aunt Tillie things wouldn’t end well.