Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Box Set Read online

  Witch Session

  A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Books 13-15

  Amanda M. Lee

  WinchesterShaw Publications

  Copyright © 2019 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

  Witch, Interrupted

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  30. Thirty

  Flip the Witch Switch

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  Witchin’ Around the Clock

  Prologue

  1. One

  2. Two

  3. Three

  4. Four

  5. Five

  6. Six

  7. Seven

  8. Eight

  9. Nine

  10. Ten

  11. Eleven

  12. Twelve

  13. Thirteen

  14. Fourteen

  15. Fifteen

  16. Sixteen

  17. Seventeen

  18. Eighteen

  19. Nineteen

  20. Twenty

  21. Twenty-One

  22. Twenty-Two

  23. Twenty-Three

  24. Twenty-Four

  25. Twenty-Five

  26. Twenty-Six

  27. Twenty-Seven

  28. Twenty-Eight

  29. Twenty-Nine

  Mailing List

  About the Author

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  Witch, Interrupted

  A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery Book Thirteen

  Prologue

  12 years ago

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  Dr. Mitchell Jordan, Walkerville High School’s lone guidance counselor, steepled his fingers as he rested his elbows on the desk and regarded me with cool eyes.

  “I have no idea,” I gritted out, refusing to look away from his pointed stare despite the fact that he made me uncomfortable. “How is it supposed to make me feel?”

  “There is no ‘supposed to’ in all of this, Bay,” Jordan replied. “All that’s important is what you feel ... and why.”

  “Okay.” I licked my lips and spared a glance for the two teenagers sitting in chairs across from his desk. They looked as annoyed and nervous as I felt. “I feel we’re being persecuted, and I don’t like it.”

  “Yeah,” my cousin Clove agreed as she leaned forward. “We’re being persecuted, and we don’t like it.”

  “We definitely don’t like it,” my other cousin Thistle concurred, her eyes flashing. “It makes us angry ... and you aren’t going to like us when we’re angry.”

  I shot Thistle a quelling look. “Knock that off.” Aunt Tillie, the reason we were in this lovely mess, had taken to showing us old episodes of The Incredible Hulk. Other than some glaring plot holes and quaint effects, the show was fairly entertaining. Unfortunately, Thistle had taken to emulating and she was thirty seconds away from ripping off her shirt and growling as she flexed.

  Thistle rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t like it when you tell me what to do.”

  “You don’t like it when anyone tells you what to do,” Clove pointed out. “You have attitude when anyone bosses you around.”

  “That’s because I’m fifteen,” Thistle snapped. “I don’t need anyone to boss me around. I’m an adult.”

  “Fifteen is not an adult,” I countered.

  “That’s a very good point, Bay.” Jordan adopted a practical tone. “Fifteen is not an adult. You’re seventeen. You’re almost an adult. Why don’t you tell me what sparked this little ... incident?”

  I didn’t immediately answer, his words and tone grating. Thankfully, I didn’t have to spend much time debating whether I should answer. Thistle took the decision out of my hands ... and launched into a tirade.

  “It wasn’t a ‘little incident,’” Thistle barked. “What’s going on in your pants is a little incident.”

  I was mortified. “Thistle!” My cheeks burned.

  Jordan’s eyes flashed with impatience for the first time since we were called into his office to discuss the altercation in the hallway. It was clear Thistle’s jab hit its mark, which was exactly what she was hoping for. My cousin was nothing if not thrilled when she hurt someone’s feelings. “I think you’re walking a precarious line, Thistle,” Jordan warned. “You might want to watch yourself.”

  Thistle narrowed her eyes, a not-so-subtle warning that she was going to push things to the limit. I wasn’t in the mood for detention or suspension, so I cut her off.

  “Thistle is simply upset because we were called into your office even though we were the aggrieved party,” I interjected quickly.

  “Your vocabulary is quite impressive, Bay,” Jordan noted, slowly shifting his eyes to me. “I can see why you’re excelling with the newspaper. That doesn’t change the fact that Thistle is acting out, something I’m sure is a cry for attention, and you’re trying to save her because that’s what you do.

  “In fact, you might not know it, but I’ve been watching you three girls for months because your teachers are concerned that you’re co-dependent and don’t get along with others,” he continued. “At first I didn’t think there was anything wrong with your relationship. After today, though, well ... I’m starting to think your teachers were right to worry.”

  My temper flashed before I could bank it. “I see you’re not worried about Lila’s temper. She was the one, after all, who pulled my hair and threw a soda on Thistle. But she’s not in here. Why is that?”

  “Because I found her crying on the floor.”

  “After she attacked us,” Thistle argued.

  “Actually, from what I understand, she went after Bay,” Jordan argued. “Now, I’m not saying what Lila did is right. In fact, I’ve been watching her closely the last few months. She seems to have a pr
oblem with Bay ... and that’s concerning. Whatever reason she’s focused on Bay, I plan to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Oh, well, hallelujah,” Clove drawled. “If you plan to get to the bottom of it, surely Lila will stop being the school jerk and leave Bay alone. I mean ... Bay graduates in three months. All should be right with the world by then and Lila will get the punishment she’s been earning since elementary school.”

  Jordan cocked an eyebrow and fixed his full attention on Clove for the first time. “Did you say something?”

  “You heard her,” Thistle shot back, her tone acidic. “Lila started this. Lila always starts it. You let Lila do whatever she wants, yet we’re called into the office at least once a week because we’ve made Lila cry. Well, guess what? Lila has it coming and we’re not sorry.”

  I lowered my forehead to my hand and attempted to rub away the building stress. “I think what Thistle means is that we’re sick of getting in trouble for protecting ourselves,” I offered.

  “No, what Thistle means is that Lila is getting exactly what she deserves and we don’t care if you think we’re mean,” Thistle shot back, her narrowed eyes pinning Jordan, as if daring him to contradict her. “Bay didn’t do anything to earn Lila’s wrath today. In fact, Bay never does anything to earn Lila’s wrath. Lila attacks first, we retaliate, and we’re always the ones who get in trouble. How is that fair?”

  “I doubt this is the first time you’ve heard the statement, but life isn’t fair, Thistle,” Jordan said. “As for Lila ... .”

  “As for Lila, we’re not sorry,” Thistle repeated. “I don’t care what you say ... or do ... or how you look at us. I don’t care if you use the puppy dog eyes or that disappointed noise you make with your tongue. We’re not sorry.”

  “I see.” Jordan tilted his head to the side. “Is that true, Clove? Is Thistle correct when she says that you’re not sorry?”

  Instead of immediately responding, Clove swiped at tears that had magically appeared and sniffled. “I’m sorry that you’re hurting my feelings the way you are,” she said, her voice low. “I think my heart might be breaking.”

  Instead of reacting out of sympathy, Thistle smacked Clove’s arm and glared. “Stop that. We’re not sorry, so you don’t have to fake cry.”

  Clove balked. “I’m not fake crying. These are real tears.”

  Clove could muster real tears no matter the circumstance, so I had my doubts. Still, I was agitated enough with the school’s response to Lila’s most recent attack that I was officially out of patience for anyone’s shenanigans … including my cousin’s latest attempt at manipulation.

  “What do you want from us, Mr. Jordan?” I asked. “We didn’t start the fight today.”

  “We finished it,” Thistle growled, folding her arms over her chest. “That’s why we’re in trouble ... again. We always finish the fights.”

  “You did finish the fight,” Jordan agreed, although he didn’t look nearly as proud as Thistle clearly felt. “Lila is in the principal’s office filing a complaint. She has a black eye, her backpack is ripped and one of her shoes somehow ended up in a toilet even though witnesses swear up and down you three never left the hallway, so I’m not sure what to make about that.”

  I knew exactly how the shoe ended up in the toilet. Thistle magicked it there in a moment of fury. I could hardly admit that — we were real witches trying to hide our identities, after all — so I was forced to change the subject.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that she attacked us first,” I argued.

  “She also ripped that backpack herself when she swung it at me,” Thistle pointed out. “We’re not to blame for the backpack. She was going for my head and ripped the seams on that cheap thing herself.”

  “Fine.” Jordan held up his hands. “Lila did this to herself. I get it. You still ganged up on her. It was three against one.”

  “To be fair, when she first came after me she had four people with her, so it was five against one,” I countered. “When Clove and Thistle joined the fight, the other girls got scared and ran. That’s not our fault.”

  “And I will be talking to those girls later in the day,” Jordan said. “Right now, though, I’m talking to you. I want to know how you feel, what you think should be done to solve this situation.”

  “I have no idea how to solve this situation,” I said dully, my earlier indignation fading. “Do what you think is right. What Thistle said earlier is true. We’re not sorry.”

  “Definitely not sorry,” Clove agreed, all traces of her earlier tears absent. “In fact, if Lila is lucky she’ll take the long way home to avoid the fight we plan on finishing after school.”

  Jordan widened his eyes to saucer-like proportions. “Do you think it’s wise to threaten another student in front of me?”

  Clove either didn’t understand the question or simply didn’t care about her answer. “We’re not going to attack her on school grounds. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I am worried,” Jordan supplied. “I’m worried that you girls are starting to lose yourselves in an unhealthy vendetta. I’m sure your mothers would agree with me. For the record, I’ve placed a call to the house and one of them is on her way to discuss this situation. You’ll sit here until she arrives and we come up with a solution.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. “You called our mothers?”

  “Oh, that was a narc move,” Thistle complained, making a face. “How could you call our mothers?”

  “Now I really do want to cry,” Clove lamented.

  “We had no choice but to call your mothers,” Jordan replied. “You got into a brawl in the hallway. We can’t allow fights on school property. Someone could get hurt.”

  “Did you call Lila’s mother?” I asked, something occurring to me.

  “We ... .” The way Jordan broke off and licked his lips told me everything I needed to know.

  “So you only called our mothers,” I finished.

  “You attacked Lila,” Jordan stressed. “She’s going to end up with a black eye and a pair of ruined shoes. I didn’t think I could let this particular fight go without warning.”

  “You never let us go without warning,” Thistle said. “We’re always warned. Lila is never warned.”

  “I’m sure it feels that way, but ... .” Jordan broke off, frowning when his door handle started turning. “That’s odd. I thought I would get an announcement before your mothers arrived.” He placed the palms of his hands on the desk and pushed himself to a standing position. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. A good talking to is in order, though.”

  “I’m sure we won’t either,” Thistle said, her lips curving as the individual on the other side of the door began making noises. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if our day ended with ice cream after all.”

  Jordan was legitimately puzzled. “What do you mean by that?” Before he could reach for the handle the door popped open, revealing our great-aunt Tillie. It was getting toward the tail end of winter, so she wore snow pants and a football helmet (she was a big proponent of plowing snow into her enemies’ driveways and that involved a lot of jostling and potential head injuries), and her cheeks were red from the bitter wind blowing outside. “Ms. Winchester? I ... um ... was under the impression your nieces were coming.” Jordan didn’t look thrilled with the turn of events.

  “My nieces are busy running a business and don’t have time for your trivial games,” Aunt Tillie said as she stalked into the room. She took a moment to study us in turn, taking in Thistle’s defiant glare, Clove’s drying eyes and my weary head rub before focusing her full attention on Jordan. “Why are they in jail this time?”

  “I hardly think this is jail, Ms. Winchester,” Jordan replied, gesturing toward the open chair on my left. “Would you like to have a seat?”

  Aunt Tillie immediately started shaking her head. “Nope. We won’t be staying long.”

  “We need to talk about your nieces’ behavio
r,” Jordan pressed. “They beat up the Stevens girl, made her cry and ruined her shoes. I’m still not sure how they did the shoe thing. It’s all very confusing.”

  “I don’t care if they chopped her head off and hid the body in the school pool,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “Lila Stevens is a menace and I guarantee that she attacked first.”

  “That’s neither here nor there,” Jordan said. “They ganged up on her. Violence is never the proper solution.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been telling them for years to hit Lila harder. That little brat has it coming.”

  “Your nieces really should’ve made the time to come in for this discussion,” Jordan groused. “You refuse to see the dangerous situation your great-nieces have created. Until you do, we can’t fix what’s been broken.”