All My Witches (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 5) Page 15

  “As long as I can wear a shirt I’m fine with it.” Landon grabbed Chief Terry under his arms and hauled him to his feet. “So, where are we going?”

  “To a wonderful new place.” Chief Terry smoothed his cape. “Follow me.”

  We fell into step behind him as he crossed the room.

  “Does anyone else think Aunt Tillie’s version of vampires is ridiculous?” Clove asked. “I mean … he doesn’t fly or anything.”

  “I think we should be thankful that things turned out this way and leave it at that,” Landon said. “Things could be so much worse.”

  I stopped abruptly, grimacing when Thistle smacked into me. I leveled a dark look at Landon, though he didn’t look bothered by my fury.

  “What?”

  “You totally jinxed us,” I barked. “Now that you said that, wherever Chief Terry is taking us will be all kinds of awful. Why would you do that?”

  Landon shrugged. “I don’t know. It just slipped out. Things will be fine. Don’t have a fit for no reason.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I knew darned well things weren’t going to be fine. “When this blows up in our faces, I’m totally going to blame you.”

  “That seems more than fair.”

  How many times has that dude been married? It’s in double digits now, right? Why wouldn’t they stop issuing marriage licenses and for the love of all that’s holy, why would anyone marry him? His wives keep ending up dead, and you just know he’s not paying alimony to the few who survived. It’s ridiculous.

  – Thistle on soap opera romance

  Fifteen

  Chief Terry kept spouting nonsense – I couldn’t wait to tell him about Aunt Tillie’s take on his vampire persona when we were out of this mess – as he led us through a series of winding hallways. His vampire knowledge was immense – and straight out of a series of bad books and television shows.

  “I’m the first of my kind,” Chief Terry explained. “I came here because I wanted peace and solitude. I found something else.”

  “And what was that?” Landon asked, keeping a firm grip on my hand. The shadows on either side obviously made him nervous. He scanned the darkness with each step to make sure nothing jumped out and attempted to devour us.

  “I found my destiny.”

  Landon made a rueful face. “When I tell the real Terry how you’re acting, he’ll be mortified. I’m never going to let him live it down. I’m going to bring it up from now until eternity.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Chief Terry paused in front of an ornate door. This one was white and decorated with bright flowers. It almost looked festive despite the murky lighting. “I am who I have always been.”

  “Yeah, the real Terry is going to toss Aunt Tillie in jail for this one.” Landon looked thrilled at the prospect. “I hope he throws away the key. I hope he makes her eat gruel and never allows her to watch soaps again. That should be her punishment.”

  “That sounds nice.” I was trying to appease him, even though I knew it would never happen. “I’ll bring it up to him at breakfast … if we ever get to breakfast, that is.”

  “Oh, we’ll get there. I can see it already. Blueberry pancakes. Eggs. Hash browns. Mountains of bacon. We’re definitely getting to breakfast.”

  As if on cue, his stomach growled. I smiled as I pressed my hand to his flat abdomen. “Hungry?”

  “I want out of here,” Landon clarified. “That’s what I want more than anything.”

  “Well, let’s see what’s next for us.”

  Chief Terry opened the door and gestured for us to go through it. Marcus, Sam, Thistle and Clove kept their heads down as they passed over the threshold. Landon stopped in front of Chief Terry long enough to give his outfit another appraising look.

  “I wish we could take photographs here.”

  A small woman wearing a red suit and a bright smile poked her head through the open door. I didn’t recognize her, but she seemed to know us. “Photographs will be available at the end of the show. They’ll be in the gift shop and they’re priced for bulk copies.”

  “Oh, well … .” Landon licked his lips. “Okay then.” He turned to me. “Did you hear that? There’s a gift shop.”

  “Maybe we can get you another shirt.”

  Landon didn’t look happy at the prospect. “Keep it up.” He lifted his eyes to Chief Terry’s face. “What’s next?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t go with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ll see. I’m not part of that story,” Chief Terry explained, his eyes snagging with mine. Even though he was supposed to be a vampire – sure, he was a weak and weird vampire, but a bloodsucker all the same – he looked almost fond when he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry you can’t stay. You’d make an excellent minion.”

  It should’ve been an insult, but my insides warmed all the same. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me since I got to this insane world.”

  “Hey, I’ve told you that I love you at least three times,” Landon complained.

  “You know what I mean.” I instinctively gripped Chief Terry’s hand, marveling at its coolness. “Why do you think she showed you to us at all?”

  Chief Terry was confused. “Who?”

  “Aunt Tillie. I mean, Alexis Kane. Why do you think she led us to you? You know she did that, right?”

  Chief Terry shrugged. “I have no idea. Alexis does what she wants, when she wants and how she wants. She’s all knowing, all powerful and the one person in this world I fear.”

  “That definitely sounds like something that she would make you say,” Landon said.

  I gave Chief Terry’s hand a squeeze and then released it. “I’ll make sure the real you knows she made you say that. You might want to get a little retribution for that one.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry you’re not my minion.”

  I cracked a smile. “I’m kind of sorry I didn’t get to be a vampire for a bit, too.”

  Wow! There’s something I thought I would never say, let alone mean.

  LANDON AND I LANDED IN a church vestibule on the other side of the door. There was no sign of the others, but the woman who notified us about the gift shop stood in the center of the room with a clipboard.

  “This is … extravagant,” Landon noted as he stared at the ceiling. “This is a big freaking church.”

  “It is,” I agreed. “I wonder why we’re here.”

  “You’re here for your wedding, of course,” the woman said. “Now … come along. We’re behind schedule already. You need to get dressed and ready.”

  I was dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, but … what?”

  “Yeah, what?” Landon almost sounded as if he was suffocating. Clearly the announcement freaked him out more than it did me.

  “You’re getting married,” the woman repeated.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You hired me as your wedding coordinator.”

  “Oh, well … .” I looked to Landon for guidance but he seemed lost in his own little world. “You’ll have to excuse me, ma’am. I’m a little flustered. You know … nerves. Can you remind me of your name?”

  “Of course. It’s Bianca Venezuela Columbia Madagascar Smith.”

  “Bianca Venezuela Columbia Madagascar Smith, huh?” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I spared a glance for Landon. He looked a bit shell-shocked. “That’s quite a mouthful.”

  “You can call me Jan.”

  “Jan?”

  “That’s my professional name,” she explained. “Bianca is my stripper name. I only strip on weekends, though.”

  “Of course.” I rolled my neck. “So, can you give a little heads-up about what’s going on here?”

  “Yes, and please be specific,” Landon said. “Start with the part about us getting married.”

  “It’s been on the books forever,” Jan said. “You proposed during the great hotel fire la
st month. You were trapped in a stairwell together, running out of oxygen, and wanted to make sure that Echo knew how much you loved her. It was a glorious proposal. Everyone thought so.”

  “Sounds fabulous,” Landon drawled. “Obviously we didn’t die.”

  “No, you were saved by a helicopter that landed on the roof at the last minute. It was very dramatic.” Jan’s smile was serene. “You accidentally fell during the flight and were missing for two weeks. Your partner found you soon after, but you had amnesia. Frankly, it’s a miracle you guys made it this far.”

  Landon shot me a rueful look. “We manage to get through everything. Go back to the amnesia, though. Are you saying I survived a fire, fell from a helicopter, got amnesia, recovered from amnesia and we’re getting married all within a month?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Just asking.” Landon held up his hands. “So … a wedding, huh?”

  I expected him to turn tail and run, something that might occur on a sitcom rather than a soap opera. He remained where he was, though.

  “I’m confused about how I can even get married,” I interjected, hoping to take the onus of the conversation off Landon’s broad shoulders. “I’m already married.”

  “Right!” Landon looked relieved when I made the point. “She’s already married. She can’t do it a second time.”

  Even though it wasn’t a convenient time, I couldn’t stop my agitation from bubbling up. “There’s no reason to get worked up. It’s not as if it’s really happening.”

  Landon furrowed his brow. “Are you angry?”

  “Should I be? It’s a made-up world, Landon. You don’t have to act as if I’ve got scales and run away to get out of whatever is going to happen here. It’s not real.”

  “Bay … .” Landon’s expression shifted into something I couldn’t identify. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I shook off my irritation. “Let’s just get through this.” I focused on Jan. “Tell me how it is I’m not a bigamist and I’ll start moving through this scene.”

  “You divorced Mr. Ferrigno on Witch Island six weeks ago,” Jan explained. “It was in all the newspapers. You managed to get a quickie divorce even though he would’ve contested it if he’d known. He was unhappy, but you’re free.

  “You told me this story,” she continued. “Why don’t you remember it?”

  “I suffered from a bout of amnesia earlier in the day, too,” I replied. “I’m still getting over it.”

  Jan looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Yes, that’s the highlight of both of our days.” Landon turned to me. “What do you think we’re supposed to do here?”

  “Follow the story.”

  “And that means … getting married?” He said it with equal parts trepidation and doubt.

  “It’s a soap wedding,” I offered. “We won’t make it to the ‘I dos.’ Something will happen to interrupt the ceremony. You’ll be safe.”

  “That’s not what I was getting at, Bay.” Landon’s irritation was palpable. “I simply want to know what’s about to happen. I don’t think that’s asking too much.”

  “Of course not.” I tugged on my limited patience. “While you’re figuring out what you want to do, I’ll head to wherever it is I’m supposed to be getting ready. I’m sure there’s a bridal room here.”

  Jan beamed. “There most definitely is. Your bridesmaids are waiting for you.”

  “Great.” I was stiff when I turned to Landon. “I’ll bet Clove and Thistle are my bridesmaids. You should go wherever Jan wants you to go, and find Sam and Marcus. I’ll see you at the altar, if you’re there. Don’t panic. I guarantee it will be interrupted.”

  Landon wrapped his fingers around my wrists to still me. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “Great.” I refused to look him in the eye. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “I AM GOING TO RIP that old lady’s throat out with a pair of tweezers,” I announced when I found Clove and Thistle standing in the middle of the bridal suite a few minutes later. They both wore pastel dresses straight out of a nightmare. “Why do you look like pieces of saltwater taffy?”

  “Because apparently Aunt Tillie is a diabolical loon,” Thistle replied, twirling in front of the mirror so her peach-colored dress fanned out. “I truly hate that woman.”

  “That’s what she wants.” I glanced around, the leading edge of my irritation dulling. “I suppose there’s a dress I have to wear.”

  Clove, who seemed more at ease in her mint-colored dress, pointed toward a garment bag hanging over a dressing room door. “There.”

  “Is it as hideous as your dresses?”

  “We haven’t looked yet,” Thistle replied. “We were too busy ogling the monstrosities Jan laid out for us. She’s an evil woman, by the way.”

  “She doesn’t seem that bad to me.” I was resigned as I trudged forward. “I guess we should get this show on the road.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Thistle asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? We’re stuck in a soap opera world, and I’ve officially had my fill of it. I want to go home.”

  “We all feel that way,” Clove offered. “You seem a lot worse off than when we saw you ten minutes ago.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re pretty far from fine,” Thistle argued. “What’s going on?”

  “Yeah, spill,” Clove said.

  I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what was wrong and then snapped it shut. Now wasn’t the time to whine and feel sorry for myself. “It doesn’t matter.” I vigorously shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something to you,” Thistle countered. “Maybe you should tell us so we can hash it out.”

  “I’d rather just get through this.” I grabbed the garment bag and yanked down the zipper, internally gagging at the mountains of white taffeta that rolled out. “Oh, this is going to be bad.”

  “Of course it’s going to be bad,” Clove said. “Aunt Tillie was the wedding designer. What did you expect?”

  “I’d better get this on.” I tugged the dress to free it from the bag. I would be swimming in it by the time I was dressed. “I have a feeling this is going to be a typical soap wedding, so hopefully I won’t be wearing it very long.”

  “You mean you think it will be interrupted,” Thistle surmised. “I’ve been wondering that, too. I hope whatever interrupts it isn’t terrible … like another bear or something.”

  “We all hope that.” I unsnapped my jeans. “I just know this dress is going to suck yeti balls.”

  “Well, you picked the right color if that’s going to happen,” Thistle said brightly. “You’ll practically disappear into the landscape if that becomes an issue. Get in it. We can’t make fun of you until we see it.”

  Oh, well, that was something to look forward to.

  “I JUST CAN’T EVEN … .”

  Thistle fell to the floor ten minutes later. I knew how bad the dress looked. I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror before stepping out of the dressing room. It was even worse than I thought, if that was possible.

  “Don’t hold back on my account,” I said dryly.

  “Oh, it’s not so bad.” Clove’s sympathetic nature was on full display as she circled me. “It’s just a little … retro.”

  “Retro?” Thistle laughed so hard I thought she might split a pastel seam. “She looks like a giant cotton ball … with additional ruffles just in case we thought the miles of lace were too subtle.”

  I bit back a hot retort. It wasn’t Thistle’s fault, of course. If I wasn’t agitated with Landon, I would probably be as amused as she was. Instead, my temper threatened to explode and I couldn’t stop scratching the back of my neck where the lace seemed to gather together into a choker of doom and chafe the hell out of my skin.

  “Knock it off,” Clove warned, extending a threatening finger in Thistle’s direction. “You’re not helping matters.”

&nb
sp; “Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to help.” Thistle was instantly contrite. “Is that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” I gathered the dress skirt and stomped toward the door. “Are you guys ready?”

  “Not until you tell us what’s wrong,” Clove replied. “Don’t deny there’s something wrong. I can tell there is.”

  “It’s not so much that there’s something wrong,” I hedged. “It’s that … Landon freaked out when he heard we were going to get married. He acted as if it was the scariest thing he’d ever come up against … and he’s seen poltergeists and witches now. It was a bit insulting.”

  “He freaked out before he saw the dress?” Thistle tilted her head to the side. “Well, he’s going to run when he sees you now.”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “Leave her alone,” Clove ordered. “She’s upset because Landon was upset.”

  “Of course he’s upset. He’s marrying a cotton ball.”

  “She doesn’t get it,” I snapped. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t real. That’s exactly what I told him. It won’t get to the vows anyway. Something will happen to derail it before we get to that part.”

  Thistle sobered. “Do you want it to get to that part?”

  I shrugged. “No. I mean … I don’t want this to be my real wedding. I don’t want anything of the sort to happen here. I also don’t want Landon to be terrified at the mere notion of a wedding, especially when it’s fake.”

  “Oh.” Realization dawned on Thistle’s face. “I get why you’re upset, but he’s been through a lot today. I wouldn’t hold this against him.”

  “I’m not.” I honestly wasn’t. “I’m just … irritated. I don’t see why he had to make such a big deal about it.”

  “Probably because he wants you guys to do this stuff on your own timetable,” Thistle explained. “It’s not that he doesn’t want to do this – I think he really does – but it’s almost too much for him to deal with at this point in the night. It seems like we’ve been at this forever.”

  “Do you really think he wants to do it?” I felt pathetic asking the question, but I couldn’t stop myself.