Life's a Witch Read online

  “It looks like it’s going to be a nice day,” Landon said, trying to make conversation as he pulled my chair out so I could sit. He reached for the jug of orange juice and filled his glass before pouring tomato juice into mine, and then settled next to me.

  He knew me. It wasn’t the simple act of knowing what juice I preferred, he also realized I would be uncomfortable holding random conversations with strangers given my hangover. He forced me out of bed so I wouldn’t waste a day and regret it later. He instinctively did things to prove how well he knew me every time we were together. His earlier words about living together one day warmed me. Could he actually want that? It was an exciting – and daunting – prospect.

  “I’m surprised you are up so early,” Aunt Willa said, her tone snotty. “I would’ve thought drinking as much as you did last night would make for a rough morning.”

  “Who drank last night?” Aunt Tillie asked, appearing in the doorway. She was dressed in camouflage pants and a “Keep calm and STFU” T-shirt. She narrowed her eyes as she glanced around the table. “Is that why my wine closet looks considerably lighter this morning?”

  “You have a wine closet?” Rosemary asked. “Why?”

  “I need a place to put wine,” Aunt Tillie replied in her best “well, duh” voice, sitting next to Landon and looking him over. “You don’t look too bad.”

  “That’s because we stopped at midnight,” Landon replied, sipping his juice. “Your nieces are another story.”

  Aunt Tillie arched an eyebrow. “Why wasn’t I invited to this little shindig?”

  “Probably because you’re one of the reasons they were drinking,” Landon replied, leaning back in his chair. “They were actually having a good time until … well … we had visitors.”

  “What visitors?”

  “Aunt Willa and Rosemary,” I replied, shooting a quick look in their direction and finding both of them glowering at me. “They came in at the tail end of things.”

  “That didn’t stop us from being mortified and embarrassed,” Aunt Willa hissed. “I can’t believe you talk about such things at the breakfast table.”

  “It’s the lunch and dinner table, too,” Aunt Tillie pointed out. “This table has been privy to many dirty conversations. Why are your panties in a bunch?”

  “Speaking of panties, um, Marnie might’ve thrown her bra in Aunt Willa’s face last night,” I added, keeping my voice low.

  Aunt Tillie snorted. “Now I’m definitely upset that I missed it,” she grumbled. “First they steal my wine, then they don’t invite me, and now I find out they messed with Willa? I always miss the fun stuff.”

  “It was not fun,” Aunt Willa countered. “It was far from fun. It was … despicable. The way you raised these girls to act … it’s scandalous.”

  “Oh, stuff it,” Aunt Tillie said. “If you spent a little more time loosening up with some wine and taking off your clothes you probably wouldn’t be so intolerable. How hungover are they?”

  “Extremely,” I replied.

  “Well, I guess now is the time to tell them I want an off-road vehicle.”

  Landon stilled. “What?”

  “I’ve got my eye on a Polaris Ranger,” Aunt Tillie explained. “I’ve been holding off on telling them I’m getting it because they’ll pitch a fit about safety … and helmets … and wasting money. Now that they’re hungover, it’s the perfect time to slip it in. They’ll agree just to get me to shut up.”

  “What are you even going to do with something like that?” I asked.

  “Ride around.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered.

  “That’s it?” Aunt Willa’s voice was shrill. “No one is embarrassed by what happened last night?”

  “Oh, what really happened?” Aunt Tillie argued. “They got drunk and took their clothes off.”

  “I didn’t take my clothes off,” Landon said. “Just for the record.”

  “No. You didn’t arrest them for taking their clothes off, though,” Aunt Willa pointed out. “That’s against the law.”

  “Not on their own property, it’s not,” Landon countered. “Take a chill pill … and lower your voice. You would make dogs uncomfortable right now.”

  Aunt Willa’s mouth dropped open. “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Pretty much,” Landon replied.

  “Hold up a second,” Aunt Tillie instructed, narrowing her eyes. “What were you doing out in the woods by yourselves in the middle of the night?”

  I shifted my attention to Aunt Willa. That was a really good question.

  “You know, I didn’t even think about that until you brought it up just now,” Landon said, swiveling so he could see over my head. “What were you doing out there?”

  “What were you doing out there?” Aunt Willa shot back.

  “We heard noise in the woods and found them drinking, so we decided to join them,” Landon replied, not missing a beat. “Bay lives on this land. We had a reason to be out there. You’re a guest. What was your reason?”

  “I … oh, look at the time,” Rosemary said, hopping to her feet and cutting off the questioning. “Brian will be here in a few minutes to pick me up. I can’t keep him waiting.”

  Landon made a face. “Brian who?”

  “Brian Kelly,” I answered. “They hit it off at the newspaper office yesterday.”

  “Yeah, well, that sounds about right,” Landon muttered. “They’ve both got similar personalities.”

  “Meaning they’re both total a-holes,” Aunt Tillie interjected.

  “Meaning they’re not the type of people getting drunk and … naked … in the middle of the woods on a weekday,” Aunt Willa challenged.

  “I still want to know what you were doing out there,” Aunt Tillie pressed. “That’s private property.”

  “Oh, shut up, Tillie,” Aunt Willa muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t have to answer to you.”

  Landon shifted his eyes to mine. “Something weird is going on here.”

  “What was your first clue?”

  “We need to figure out what they were doing out there last night,” Landon said, keeping his voice low. “Whatever it was is obviously shady. That’s why they won’t own up to it.”

  “And how do you expect me to get the information out of them? They’re not going to tell me.”

  Landon inclined his chin in Aunt Tillie’s direction. “I think we have someone better suited for that assignment.”

  Aunt Tillie nodded, her smile smug. “Consider it done.”

  Nineteen

  I left Aunt Tillie to figure out what Aunt Willa and Rosemary were up to, stopping in the driveway long enough to wish Landon a good day at work before grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator and hopping in my car.

  My headache was ebbing, which was a good sign, because my mind was busy. Landon’s offhand statement about sharing a home together had me thinking. What did he have planned for our future?

  Before he said “I love you,” I wasn’t sure we had a future. I knew I loved him, but I convinced myself he didn’t love me because it was easier than asking myself the big questions. He walked away when he found out we were witches. That was almost easier, because the decision was taken out of my hands. Now my hands felt very, very full.

  The idea of living life without Landon wasn’t something I even wanted to consider. The realities of living with him, though, were difficult. His main office was in Traverse City. Did that mean he wanted me to move to Traverse City with him? Did he want to move here and commute? Did he want us to move someplace in between and lock out the rest of the world? Huh. That last one had potential, especially after a really loud breakfast with my family.

  Still, I didn’t want to leave Hemlock Cove. That didn’t necessarily mean Landon would uproot his life and move here. The hangover headache was quickly turning into a full-blown panic attack. I had to focus on something else.

  I parked my car near the path to Hollow Creek, grabbed th
e water bottles, and headed toward my destination. It was the middle of the day, and even though it was nice and warm, no one ever visited the area to cool off. The water was murky and the creek bed mucky. There were better places for family fun and the teenagers didn’t want to risk being caught out here during daylight hours when more police officers were on duty.

  It took me about five minutes to reach my destination. I hoped Nathaniel would appear again. If it was only me, and I gave him a chance to get comfortable in my presence, he might be more likely to talk.

  Instead of searching the area to find him, I picked a spot close to the water and settled in the shade. I opened one of the water bottles and hydrated as I waited. Unfortunately, that gave me plenty of time to obsess about what Landon said regarding future living arrangements.

  I was just about to text Clove and Thistle to tell them about the conversation when I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. When I focused on the spot, it was empty. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I could feel someone watching me. I was pretty sure it was Nathaniel.

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket and got comfortable again, hoping I gave off a soothing vibe. It took only a few minutes for Nathaniel to return. He played at the corner of my vision, refusing to move in front of me as he studied me. I let him continue his game for what felt like forever. In real time it was probably only five minutes. Finally, he filled the space by my feet and met my gaze head on.

  “Hello, Nathaniel.”

  He didn’t appear surprised by my greeting. He knew I could see him thanks to the knife discovery the previous evening. In the bright sunlight, his ethereal body was completely transparent in some places and fairly solid in others.

  “You can see me.”

  “I can,” I replied. “I saw you last night. Do you remember?”

  “Your drunk cousin threw up,” Nathaniel replied, his dark head bobbing. “You don’t see a chick with purple hair puking very often.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Why are you here?” Nathaniel asked, glancing around. “Where is your boyfriend?”

  I ignored the question. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re Bay Winchester. You’re the editor at The Whistler. You’re also part of that crazy witch family that runs The Overlook. That’s a stupid name, by the way. Didn’t your family realize that was the same name as the haunted hotel in The Shining?”

  “No,” I replied. “They thought the property had a bluff and you overlook things on it. That’s as far as the reasoning went. We tried to tell them, but my family is great at talking and very poor at listening.”

  Nathaniel snorted. “It seems to have worked out for them.”

  “It has,” I said, taking a moment to decide which way I wanted to steer the conversation. “Do you know what happened to you?”

  “I’m dead.”

  “I know that,” I said, fighting to tamp down my irritation. “Do you know how you died?”

  “I was stabbed.”

  I hate teenagers. Yes, technically Nathaniel was no longer a teenager. He was still annoying because he acted like one, though. “Do you know who stabbed you?”

  Nathaniel shrugged. “I … maybe.”

  That was an odd answer. “Does it have something to do with the drugs?”

  “What drugs?”

  “The ones you were selling,” I said, shooting him my best “I’m not an idiot so don’t treat me like one” look. “I know you were selling pot. Were you selling more than that?”

  “Who told you that?” Nathaniel asked, his expression darkening.

  “Everyone in town told me that,” I replied. It was technically a lie, but he didn’t know that. “Quite a few people said you were selling pot and having money problems. Well, to be fair, some people said you were seen flashing big wads of money and others said you were desperate to find more product because you needed more money.”

  Nathaniel scowled. He wasn’t a handsome boy by any stretch of the imagination, so the expression only made him more unappealing. “I want names,” he snapped. “Who talked to you?”

  “Grow up,” I shot back. “You’re dead -- and you’re not a child. You might want to act like one, but it won’t get you anywhere … especially not now.” I usually approach ghosts with a gentle tone and sympathy. Nathaniel was unlikeable, and I didn’t have the patience to play tedious games. “I’m here to help you move on. If you don’t want that help, tell me right now, and I’ll go.”

  Nathaniel tilted his head to the side, confused. “Move on to … where?”

  “The other side.”

  “What’s on the other side?”

  “I’ve never been there,” I answered. “I know people who have. I know it’s better than being trapped here.”

  “If there’s something else, why am I stuck here?”

  I licked my lips, giving myself time to decide how to answer. “Most ghosts stay behind because they don’t know they died. They wake up thinking they’re still alive. Others … remember dying. They’re so traumatized by the event, though, they remain behind because they feel the need for retribution.”

  “So you’re saying I’m still here because I want someone to pay for killing me. Is that it?”

  I nodded.

  Nathaniel pursed his lips. “I do want someone to pay,” he said finally.

  “Tell me who killed you and we can make someone pay,” I suggested.

  “I don’t know that I remember who killed me,” Nathaniel said. Something about the way he phrased the statement bothered me. “I can’t remember everything.”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember coming out here and trying to be quiet because all the drunk kids were annoying me,” Nathaniel answered. “I remember … hearing something. Then I remember screams. I think they were coming from me.”

  It wasn’t uncommon for ghosts to block memories of their death. Sometimes they were too traumatic to ever recall. Other times they remember in bits and pieces. Sometimes – although it’s rare – the memories come back in a flood when they’re finally ready to accept what happened to them. Denial plays a part in almost everything, even when you’re a ghost. I had no idea how it would go for Nathaniel.

  “Well, let’s break it down,” I said, my pragmatic side taking over. “Who was here that night?”

  “I … everyone was here,” Nathaniel said. “Dakota, Charlie, Michael, Dennis, Hayley, Jessica … everyone.”

  Most of those monikers meant nothing without last names. I knew which Dakota and Charlie he referred to – and the fact that they didn’t mention being out here with Nathaniel right before he died was irksome – but the other names could belong to several teenagers. “I … .”

  The sound of cracking tree branches caught my attention and I swiveled to my left. Nathaniel was so surprised he blinked out of existence. I wanted to call out to him, make him stay so we could continue our conversation, but it was too late.

  I rolled to my feet, ready to explode on whoever was coming, but the admonishment died on my lips when I saw Chloe. Her hair was a mess, wispy strands sticking out from a haphazard ponytail. She had dark circles under her eyes and her face was devoid of makeup. If I had to guess, it looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  I scrambled in Chloe’s direction, catching her off guard when she realized she wasn’t alone.

  “Oh … I … what are you doing out here?”

  Chloe looked so lost I wanted to hug her. But I didn’t want to crowd her, and given her earlier attitude, I didn’t think she would like it if she thought someone felt sorry for her. “I came to look around,” I said. “I wanted to see where your brother died when no one was here and I could actually get a gander at what was going on.”

  “There’s a rumor going around town,” Chloe said. “They’re saying your boyfriend found the murder weapon here last night. Is that true?”

  “We found a knife,” I answered. “We’re not sure it’s the murder weapon, but
it probably is.”

  “Do you think … do you think it hurt? I mean, was it a big knife?” Chloe looked miserable.

  I scanned the area, hoping Nathaniel would return when he realized the interloper was his sister. As far as I could tell, though, he wasn’t around. “I think it was probably over before he realized what was happening.”

  Chloe’s eyes were hopeful. “Really? Do you think that’s possible?”

  “I think that dying is probably chaotic,” I replied. “I think the body has ways of shutting down pain that it knows the human mind can’t take. A lot of people report being numb when they die.”

  Chloe furrowed her brow. “Numb? How do people report things if they’re dead?”

  Uh-oh. I tipped my hand a little bit there. “It’s just something I read in a book once,” I lied. “People who almost died said they didn’t feel anything at the time.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

  Whew! “What are you doing out here, Chloe?”

  “I just … .” She didn’t answer. Perhaps she couldn’t.

  “You wanted to see where he died,” I finished for her. “You thought you might feel something if you came out here.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve known quite a few people who died,” I answered. “You can go ahead and look around. The police are done here.”

  “Are you staying?”

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  Chloe shrugged, helplessness washing over her face. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, how about I hang around for a little bit and walk around the area with you,” I suggested. “If it starts to bother you, I’ll go. Just tell me. I promise there will be no hard feelings.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded.

  Chloe looked so relieved that my heart rolled. I followed her as she shuffled around, studying her face as she looked at the bank and water. After a few minutes, she turned her attention back to me. “I thought I would feel his presence here or something. Does that make me sound like an idiot?”

  “No. That makes you sound like a sister who is grieving.”

  “I hated him for most of my life,” Chloe admitted. “Now I feel guilty because I hated him, and it’s too late to take it back.”