Wicked Brew Read online

  Wicked Brew

  A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short

  Amanda M. Lee

  Text copyright © 2015 Amanda M. Lee

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Author’s Note

  Books by Amanda M. Lee

  One

  “Have you seen what’s going on outside?”

  I glanced up, fixing my gaze on my cousin Bay as she shuffled into the front library of The Overlook excitedly. She always manages to find me – even when I’m trying to get some peace and quiet. If I didn’t know better, I would think it was a special ability. Unfortunately, we’re so codependent, she just knows me – and where to look when I’m trying to hide.

  I dropped the book I was reading onto the window seat and peered outside, grinning despite myself when I realized what she was referring to. “What is she doing now?”

  “She’s mad,” Bay said, lifting my legs and shifting them so she could settle next to me on the window seat. “Open the window so we can hear.”

  “Go outside if you want to hear,” I protested. Sheesh. A person wants five minutes of peace. Try finding it in this house. Why do you think I’m always grumpy? “I’m reading.”

  “No way,” Bay said, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “If we listen inside, then we won’t be targets when Aunt Tillie blows. If we go outside, she’ll curse us just because we’re there. Come on, Thistle. Stop being a pain.”

  She had a point. I sighed, but I shoved the window open. I always love it when my mom and aunts go after my great-aunt. I just hate it when they inevitably back down – and they always do.

  “You can’t tell me what to do,” Aunt Tillie said, her hands impatiently gesturing as she faced off with her three nieces. “I am an adult.”

  “We’re not trying to tell you what to do,” Winnie said.

  “You’re trying to tell me what I can’t do,” Aunt Tillie said. “That’s the same thing.”

  “Hey, we don’t care if you want to sell your wine,” Aunt Marnie said. “You just can’t do it at a stand at the edge of the driveway. It’s illegal.”

  “Technically, selling my wine is illegal no matter what,” Aunt Tillie pointed out. “I don’t have a license.”

  “Yes, but everyone looks the other way if you do it on the sly,” my mom said, twisting her hands nervously. My mom is terrified of Aunt Tillie. Taking her on makes her nervous. It makes me laugh.

  “They’ll look the other way if I do it here, too, Twila,” Aunt Tillie said. “Who in their right mind would report me? They know I’ll do something terrible to them if they do.”

  “You can’t go around threatening people with curses,” Winnie said. “That’s why people in this town are so suspicious of us.”

  “People in this town are suspicious of us because they’re cowards,” Aunt Tillie said. “They fear what they don’t understand. It’s not my fault I’m the only genius in a town full of idiots.”

  “So, wait, now you’re a genius?” Marnie was incensed. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that you can’t sell wine at the side of the road.”

  “Don’t ever tell me what I can’t do,” Aunt Tillie said. “I am still the boss of this family.”

  “No one is the boss of a family,” Winnie countered. “And, technically, we own this land. We – the three of us – not you. Our mother – your sister – left it to us. You can’t set up a wine stand on our property. I’m sorry. It’s just not going to happen.”

  Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes. “Do you really want to take me on over this?”

  “We’re not taking you on,” Marnie said, stepping up so she was shoulder to shoulder with Winnie. I couldn’t help but notice that my mom was cowering a few feet behind them. “We’re just telling you how things are going to go. For once, you’re going to listen.”

  “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

  WE found our mothers in the kitchen a few minutes later. They were talking in hushed tones, and all three of them looked worried. When they caught sight of Bay and me, they plastered identical fake smiles on their faces.

  “Hello, girls,” Mom said. “This is a nice surprise. Are you here for dinner?”

  “It’s barely noon,” Bay said, snatching a cookie off the cooling rack in front of Marnie.

  “Oh, are you here for lunch then?” Winnie asked. “It should be on the table in a half hour or so.”

  Bay and I exchanged humorous looks.

  “Where’s Aunt Tillie at?” I asked, utilizing my best “innocent” voice in an attempt to irk them.

  “How should we know?” Mom replied. “You know very well, Thistle, that we are not your great-aunt’s keepers.”

  “She’s probably down at her greenhouse,” Marnie said. “The construction is just about finished. She’s been excited to pick out items to plant.”

  “And it won’t be pot, right?” Bay asked. Her boyfriend Landon was a FBI agent, and he was well aware of Aunt Tillie’s “special” field. He didn’t believe her glaucoma claims, but he chose to look the other way – mostly because Aunt Tillie’s magical wards kept him from being able to find the field. I don’t think he’d ever turn her in, but I can see him accidentally burning it down if he gets the chance.

  “We’ve warned her about illegal crops,” Winnie said. “She promises that the only thing of interest she’ll be growing in the greenhouse is basil.”

  “Why is basil of interest?” I asked, slipping my hand beneath Bay’s so I could grab the cookie she was aiming to steal. She shot me a look as I stuck the cookie into my mouth. She’s easy to rile, and I enjoy doing it.

  Marnie made a face. “It’s a joke,” she said. “That was supposed to be your name, after all.”

  I faltered. Being plagued with the name Thistle was one of the banes of my existence – well, that and a nasty Aunt Tillie when she’s feeling feisty. I never understood why my mother picked it. Bay was an herb, but it was still a pretty name. The same with Clove, my other cousin. Thistle, though? That’s what you take when you drink too much. “What are you talking about?”

  “Right up until the day you were born, Twila was going to name you Basil,” Winnie explained. “She took one look at you, though, and she decided that Thistle was a better name.”

  I shifted my gaze to Bay, unsure. “Did you know about this?”

  “No,” Bay said, grinning widely. “Although, I do like the name Basil.”

  “Basil is worse than Thistle,” I argued.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think it’s kind of fun,” Bay replied. She enjoys getting under my skin, too. It’s a family trait – and it’s obnoxious. “Basil Winchester, fastest herb in the Midwest.” She dissolved into giggles. She was never going to let me live this down.

  I turned back to our mothers. “So, where is Aunt Tillie?” They were purposely trying to derail the conversation because they didn’t want us to know what our persnickety great-aunt was up to. We’re all masters of this specific verbal art, but it doesn’t work well on those who regularly utilize the tactic.

  “We told you, she’s down at her greenhouse,” Winnie said evasively.

  “Oh, so she’s not setting up a stand at the edge of the road to sell wine?” I pressed.

  Bay pursed her lips.

  “If you already knew, then why did you ask?” Mom’s face was pale and drawn.

  “Yeah, it’s almost as if you were trying to play a game,” Marnie said. “You know I don’t like games.”

  Since Marnie was the master of throwing a board game i
nto the air if she thought she was going to lose, I was definitely aware of her aversion to games. Don’t even ask what she does during a raucous game of cribbage. “I just wanted to know what you guys were going to say.”

  “Well, she’s not going to do it,” Marnie said. “We’ve laid down the law. She knows what is – and what is not – acceptable.”

  “You’ve laid down the law?” Bay asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “We have,” Winnie said. “Aunt Tillie may not like it, but we’re in charge here.”

  Aunt Tillie definitely wasn’t going to like it. She also wasn’t going to respect it.

  “How about you let us try and talk to her?” Bay suggested.

  I couldn’t stop my mouth from dropping open. “No way!”

  “Oh, come on,” Bay prodded. “Do you really want Aunt Tillie to sell wine at the end of the driveway? The people in town are going to have a fit.”

  “You were the one who wanted to listen by the window in the library so she wouldn’t see us and curse us,” I pointed out.

  Winnie knit her eyebrows together. “Excuse me?”

  “You have such a big mouth,” Bay grumbled.

  “Well, since you two think this is so funny, I’ve decided that you should be the ones to deal with it,” Winnie said.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she said, fixing me with a hard look. “She’s your aunt. You’re both a part of this family. We’ve taken a vote. You two are now in charge of making sure Aunt Tillie does not open a wine stand.”

  “You took a vote?” This family is unbelievable sometimes. “When?”

  “It was a silent vote,” Winnie said, glancing at her two sisters in turn. “Right?”

  Mom and Marnie nodded enthusiastically.

  “We think you’re the best witches for the job,” Marnie said.

  “Yeah,” Mom added. “We have complete and total faith in you.”

  I pressed my lips together and focused on Bay. “I blame you for this.”

  Bay shrugged. “You usually do.”

  “SHE’S not going to listen to us.”

  “Then why did you suggest we come down here and talk to her?” Bay baffles me sometimes. She shifts from one extreme to the other. One minute she’s an optimist, and the next she’s a pessimist. It’s like she has constant PMS. Me? I’m set on one extreme – annoyance – and I rarely shift.

  “I don’t know,” Bay said. “I just thought it might be fun.”

  “If she wants to set up a wine stand, she’s going to set up a wine stand,” I grumbled, running a hand through my cropped blue hair as we trudged down the driveway. Since summer was officially here, I’d been toying with the idea of changing the color. I only opted for blue because it drives my mother nuts. She’s starting to get used to it now – even though she still hates it. There are plenty of other colors in the rainbow to torture her with. I’m thinking a nice lavender to match the big bushes that are starting to bloom along the edge of the property might be in order. I’ve always loved that color.

  “I don’t have any intention of trying to talk her out of the stand,” Bay said.

  “You don’t?”

  She shook her head. “Landon will be here this afternoon. I figure he’ll do it.”

  Landon’s work often takes him out of Hemlock Cove during the week. He’s here as often as he can be midweek, but he always goes out of his way to spend weekends with Bay. They’ve been pretty happy lately, which makes me happy. For law enforcement, he’s not half bad. As long as he makes Bay smile, though, I’m willing to put up with his overbearing attitude. “She won’t listen to Landon either.”

  “She might,” Bay said. “She likes him.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s going to listen to him,” I pointed out. “She likes Chief Terry, and she won’t listen to him.” Chief Terry may be the top law enforcement official in Hemlock Cove, but that wasn’t enough to dissuade Aunt Tillie from any of her nefarious deeds – even though he’s a frequent visitor at the inn.

  “That’s because she knows Chief Terry is terrified of her,” Bay said. “He would never arrest her.”

  “That’s because our mothers would never forgive him,” I said. “He likes all of the attention.”

  Our mothers like to play a game – yes, even Marnie – and Chief Terry is the prize. I’m not sure if he really wants to be claimed, but he enjoys being the center of attention, especially when they ply him with food. “I don’t see why they just don’t let her do it,” I said. “She’ll lose interest after a couple of hours. She’s not exactly known for her stellar work ethic.”

  Bay pointed to the end of the driveway. “She’s already got it set up. She seems serious.”

  “That’s only because she knows it irritates our moms,” I said. “She’s nothing if not predictable.”

  Once we got to the end of the driveway, Aunt Tillie barely lifted an eyebrow as she greeted us. “So, they sent out reinforcements to talk me out of this?”

  “We’re not here to talk you out of this,” Bay said. “We’re here to … help.”

  “Help?”

  “Help you with your business,” Bay said.

  Aunt Tillie glanced at me.

  “I’m not here to help,” I said. “I wanted to stay out of it. Bay’s big mouth is what got us in this mess in the first place. I’m just going to pretend I don’t see a thing.”

  “You’re smarter than you look,” Aunt Tillie said. She pointed to a box. “Open that up and get a few bottles of wine out. I need people to see what I’m selling.”

  I sighed, but I did as I was told. “You know this is illegal, right?”

  “Everything fun in life is illegal.”

  “Not everything,” Bay said.

  “Fine,” Aunt Tillie acquiesced. “Everything worth doing in life is illegal.”

  Bay shook her head and scanned Aunt Tillie’s supplies. “You need a sign.”

  “Wait, so now you’re encouraging her?” I was surprised.

  “I’m not encouraging her,” Bay said. “I just like to see things done right.”

  That’s one of the things I hate most about Bay. She’s got an odd organizational streak. It rears its head at the oddest times. “Well, make her a sign then.”

  “I’m not the artistic one,” Bay pointed out.

  I scowled. Now I knew why she suggested a sign.

  “That’s right,” Aunt Tillie said, her eyes sparkling. “Thistle is the artistic one.”

  “I’m not making you a sign,” I said.

  “I want a good one,” Aunt Tillie said, ignoring my statement. “Put some flowers on it or something. Glitter might be fun, too. I want it to look good. Make sure cars can read it from the road.”

  “Did you hear me? I’m not making you a sign.”

  “Don’t you even think about arguing with me,” Aunt Tillie warned. “I’m not in the mood. Right now, you two aren’t on my list. You don’t want that to change.”

  I swallowed hard. I certainly didn’t want that to change. I hate being on Aunt Tillie’s list. It usually ends with my pants not fitting, or a big zit in the middle of my forehead, or a noxious bacon smell emanating from my armpits. The woman is evil. “Fine,” I said. “When our mothers complain, though, you’re going to tell them you made us help.”

  “Fine,” Aunt Tillie said. “If you want to be a ‘fraidy’ cat, go ahead. Blame it on the old lady.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I thought you were in the prime of your life?”

  “Don’t push me,” Aunt Tillie said. “I’ve had just about enough of your mouth for one day.”

  Funnily enough, I was just getting warmed up. When I opened my mouth to see just how far I could push things, something else caught my eye. I was on my feet within seconds, my gaze trained on a small girl as she stumbled down the middle of the road. She seemed dazed – and lost.

  “What? You’re suddenly speechless?” Aunt Tillie asked. When I didn’t return my attention to her, she followed my gaze. “Holy taran
tula spiders.” Aunt Tillie was moving before I had a chance to regain my faculties.

  Crap. There’s never a dull moment at The Overlook.

  Two

  I followed Aunt Tillie to the road, Bay close at my heels. We all slowed our pace as we approached her. She was small, about eight years old if I had to guess. Her hair was long and dark, her pale features streaked with dirt and blood, and her green eyes were vacant.

  “Are you okay, honey?” Aunt Tillie was the first one to reach the girl.

  She stilled when she caught sight of us, her eyes finally focusing. She looked terrified.

  Bay reached out for the girl carefully, brushing her long brown hair out of her face so she could get a better look. “Are you hurt?”

  The girl didn’t answer.

  Bay looked to me for help. I shrugged. I had no idea what to do in a situation like this. If you need someone ticked off, call me. If you need someone to feel better, call anyone else. I knelt down in front of the girl so I could meet her gaze on an even level. “Can you tell us your name?”

  Still nothing.

  Aunt Tillie snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face, causing her to jolt and take a step backwards.

  “Stop that,” I snapped, slapping Aunt Tillie’s hand away from the girl’s face. “You’re scaring her.”

  “I was just trying to see if she was deaf,” Aunt Tillie sniffed.

  “She’s not deaf,” Bay said, studying the side of the girl’s head seriously. “She’s hurt.”

  “What do you see?”

  “She’s got a bump,” Bay said. “There’s a cut right here, too. I think that’s where the blood came from.” Bay focused on the girl. “Do you have any other injuries?”

  The girl didn’t make a move to respond. She didn’t shake her head, or nod. She didn’t even open her mouth. She just stood there.

  “I think we need to get her inside the inn,” Bay said, straightening. “She’s unresponsive. We need to call an ambulance.”

  “And the police,” I added, shooting a warm smile in the direction of the girl. “I’m sure someone is missing our little friend here.”