To Love a Witch Read online

  “Yeah,” I said. “I agree with all of that.”

  “There is one other way to draw your attention.”

  I couldn’t fathom what he was having such a hard time saying. “You’re going to need to spell it out for us because I’m not catching on to what you’re so terrified to say.”

  “And we don’t have time for nonsense,” Landon noted. “Just tell us.”

  “Fine.” Chief Terry threw up his hands in frustration, as if we’d somehow managed to force him into an uncomfortable situation despite the fact that he’d done it to himself. “Here it is: You have three other family members in town. You don’t often pay them the attention you should, but they make likely targets because everybody knows they’re related to you.”

  My heart sank. “Dad.”

  “And Warren and Teddy,” Chief Terry confirmed. “If someone wanted to hurt your family without immediately getting caught, what better place to go? Dani could take over the Dragonfly.”

  I hadn’t even thought of my father. How bad of a person did that make me? My eyes were plaintive when I turned to Landon. “We have to go out there.”

  “We do,” he agreed, immediately prodding me forward. “I didn’t think of them either. The chief is right. They make excellent targets.”

  I shuffled my feet as I worked to keep up with him. “It makes me a bad daughter that I didn’t even think of him, doesn’t it?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He was firm. “You’re a good daughter ... who had an absentee father for much of your life. Of course you thought about the family you spend the most time with first. That’s only natural.”

  He said the right words, but I couldn’t help believing he was making excuses for me. “I should bake him cookies or something when I have time.”

  “That sounds lovely.” Landon opened the door to Chief Terry’s vehicle so I could hop in. “Make it a double batch. You know how I feel about cookies.”

  “The same way I feel about doughnuts.”

  He grinned, sympathy lighting his eyes. “It’s going to be okay. It’s not too late and we remembered. We’ll make sure they’re safe and then go from there.”

  “We didn’t remember. Chief Terry did.”

  “Yes, well ... he’s part of the team. It still counts as a win for us.”

  I was glad he could say it with a straight face, because I wasn’t sure I could.

  MY FATHER AND UNCLES HAD OPENED the Dragonfly Bed & Breakfast a year ago. They claimed they didn’t return to Hemlock Cove to engage in a competition with our mothers, but sometimes it felt like that. Either way, they wanted to make amends for disappearing on us when we were kids and became regular visitors in our lives.

  The relationships were a work in progress. Clove was having the best luck because she refused to admit she was still bitter about the way her father took off when she was a kid. Thistle and I didn’t have that problem, which meant we were often shuffling through minefields when interacting with our fathers.

  “This is a nice surprise.” Warren greeted us at the door, his gaze momentarily landing on Chief Terry before settling on me. “Just you today? I was hoping you brought Thistle and Clove.”

  “I’m sorry.” My mouth was suddenly dry as I fumbled for the right words. “This was an impromptu visit.”

  “Oh?” Warren, much like Clove, had a bad poker face. It was obvious he was wary. Aunt Marnie, on the other hand, could lie with the best of them. That was one thing Clove missed out on when it came to her mother’s genes. They looked like twins, but Marnie was meaner and more deceitful ... and proud of it.

  “Yeah,” I confirmed, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “We were just sitting around downtown and your names came up, so we thought we’d stop in for a visit.” I craned my neck to look over his shoulder. “Is my dad around?”

  Warren nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “He is.”

  “And Uncle Teddy?”

  “He’s here, too.” Warren folded his arms over his chest. “Is something wrong, Bay? You’re acting odd.”

  I wanted to argue with the assumption, but he was right. I was definitely acting odd. “I’m fine.” I flashed my most angelic smile. “I just want to see my dad.”

  “Okay. Come on in.”

  Landon pressed close to me as I eased through the door, his voice a whisper in my ear. “When you smile like that you look like the Joker.”

  I was horrified at the thought. “Jack Nicholson or Heath Ledger? Or, wait ... please tell me it’s not Joaquin Phoenix.”

  “Try Jared Leto.”

  Oh, no. That was the worst. “I’m sorry.” I rubbed my sweaty palms over my jeans. “I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I know what’s wrong with you. You’re a terrible liar.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “In this particular case, it is. Let me do the talking with your father.”

  Given the fact that Landon and my father had a tempestuous relationship on the best of days — and that was putting it mildly — the notion seemed absurd. I was too nervous to argue, though. I simply nodded like an idiot.

  Dad and Teddy were behind the counter chopping vegetables when we slid through the door. My father was the first to look up, and his face split into the widest grin I’d ever seen when he caught sight of me.

  “There she is.” He abandoned his project and hurried in my direction, wiping his hands on a towel as he closed the distance. “Well, let me see it. I’ve heard about it, but he wouldn’t let me see it.”

  I was confused. “See what?”

  My father grabbed my left hand and tugged it up, his eyes briefly going wide before he slid his gaze to Landon, who was shaking his head and making a series of exaggerated expressions straight out of a YouTube soap opera.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. That felt like the question of the day, but I simply couldn’t keep up.

  Dad dropped my hand and his face froze in one of those half smiles you see on people’s faces when a major faux pas occurs at a family dinner. “Nothing is going on,” Dad reassured me quickly. “I simply wanted to see your outfit.” He beamed at me as he took in my capris and T-shirt. “It’s lovely. That shirt is nice on you. It brings out the color of your eyes.”

  The shirt was black and featured a pair of rhinestone lips. “I don’t understand.” I glanced at Landon. “Am I missing something?”

  “Of course not, sweetie. Your dad is right. Black is a good color on you.”

  That wasn’t really an answer. I cocked my head, prepared to demand he own up to whatever was going on — I was convinced I was no longer imagining it — when Chief Terry stepped in and took over the conversation.

  “I’m sorry we have to bother you like this,” he started, cringing slightly as he held my father’s gaze. Their relationship often bordered on ugly. Chief Terry believed my father was a weak man and had abandoned me at the time I needed him most. As a result, Chief Terry stepped in and did all the fatherly things Thistle, Clove, and I needed growing up. My father was bitter because he believed another man usurped his territory. It was a whole big thing that nobody had time for.

  “I’m guessing something is wrong,” Dad noted, his jaw clenching. “If you guys stopped by for a visit in the middle of the day, it only makes sense that something is terribly wrong. That’s how it goes, right?”

  I cringed. We’d promised to make more of an effort to spend time with them when it wasn’t a witchy emergency. We’d been doing better ... kind of. That didn’t mean we were perfect by any stretch.

  “This isn’t like the other times,” I argued. “I mean ... not really. This time it’s not our fault. Er, well, I guess it’s kind of my fault because I insisted on trying to help Dani rather than kill her the day before the wedding. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  Dad held back a sigh, but it looked as if it took monumental effort. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” he prodded.

  That’s what I did. S
ure, I nut-shelled the problem — there was no way he could truly understand what we were up against — and when I breezed through everything that had happened at the lake, he made a clucking sound with his tongue and shook his head.

  “Wow,” he said, shifting his eyes to Teddy. “I just ... wow.”

  “The important thing is that they’re all okay,” Warren interjected. That was another thing he gave to Clove, blind optimism and an annoying dollop of naïveté. He couldn’t seem to keep from looking on the bright side, just like his daughter. “Things could be worse.”

  Dad made an exaggerated face. “Oh, yeah? How could things be worse? No, Warren, I want an answer.”

  “Well ... there could be a knife-wielding maniac creeping up to our back door or something,” Warren offered. “That would be worse.”

  “Actually, I think that would be better,” Teddy countered. “A knife-wielding maniac would still be human. Right now we have a murderous teenage witch on the loose and she thinks Bay has somehow ruined her life. She’s looking for revenge, and she has magic on her side when she decides to dole it out.”

  Apparently Teddy was better at nut-shelling than me.

  “I’m really sorry,” I offered. It was the lamest response I could offer, but it was true. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Also, it would be worse if Tillie was sneaking around again,” Warren offered helpfully. “This is better than that.”

  Teddy nodded. All I could do was rub my forehead.

  Dad shook his head. “Bay, you’re not to blame for this. It sounds to me as if you let your big heart get ahead of your brain — as usual — and now it’s backfiring. Nobody blames you.”

  “I kind of blame her,” Teddy argued.

  Ah, yes, speaking of things our fathers passed on to us. Mine gave me the ability to get over being angry in five minutes. Thistle’s gave her the ability to be snarky even in the face of certain death. I thought Thistle’s father-supplied superpower might be better.

  “It’s not her fault,” Dad insisted. “She was trying to do the right thing. It backfired on her — which seems to be the Winchester way — but you can’t fault her for what she was trying to do.”

  “The important thing is that you’re here because you want us to do something,” Warren noted. “We’re willing to do whatever it takes, but ... I’m a little nervous it’s going to hurt.”

  “We don’t want you to do anything,” Chief Terry countered. “It’s more that ... we need you to be vigilant. You haven’t had anyone make a reservation out of the blue in the past three weeks or so, have you?”

  Dad furrowed his brow and moved to the computer resting on the opposite counter. “I don’t think so. Let me check.”

  “You’re worried that she booked a room here,” Teddy surmised. “You think she might try to hide in plain sight and then threaten us if Bay and the others go after her. You’re going to take her down.”

  The remarks were directed to me so I nodded. “We can’t let her wander around killing people. We’re trying to find her. Even as we speak, Aunt Tillie and Thistle are putting together a potion to bind her powers. You shouldn’t be in danger long ... but you are in danger until we can track her down.”

  “All the reservations for this weekend were booked at least three months out,” Dad noted, straightening. “That’s good, right?”

  Landon nodded. “It is. You can’t let anyone wander in and try to book a room.”

  “We obviously wouldn’t rent to a teenager.”

  “She might not look like a teenager to you,” I pointed out. “She could glamour herself, which means she could look like anyone. It’s best to just deal with the people who made reservations and not allow anyone else on the premises.”

  “How are we supposed to stop her from coming on the property?” Warren challenged. “It’s not as if we have a no-vacancy sign out there. We’re a bed and breakfast, not a motel.”

  He had a point. “I don’t know.” I glanced at Landon. “What should we do?”

  “I’ll put one of my uniforms out here,” Chief Terry replied, his tone no-nonsense. “He’ll sit outside and call if anyone approaches on foot. Dani doesn’t have a car.”

  “She could steal one,” I said.

  “She could, but I doubt she would want to risk that. We don’t know that she would think to come out here. This is just a precaution. You’ve got Viola out looking for her. Once we have that potion and a location, all we have left is the fight — now that I say that out loud, it sounds absolutely ridiculous. We’re trying to end this today. That’s what I’m getting at.”

  Dad worked his jaw, his eyes linked with those of Chief Terry. For a moment, I sensed trouble, but the potential for explosion passed quickly.

  “We’ll be careful,” Dad promised, his lips flattening into a tight smile for my benefit. “You don’t have to worry about us. Just worry about yourselves.”

  I nodded in thanks. “As soon as things are clear again, we’ll set up a dinner,” I promised. “I desperately want to know what you and Landon aren’t telling me regarding your greeting earlier. For now, I’ll let it go because I’m a magnanimous person.”

  Landon shook his head and groaned. “And that right there you definitely got from Aunt Tillie.”

  Sometimes inherited traits came in handy. I happened to like the one that didn’t allow me to be an easily-snowed idiot. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “It was to me.”

  Twenty-Six

  We checked in at Hypnotic next. The longer we went without seeing Viola, the more nervous I grew — to the point Landon decided to admonish me.

  “Sit down, Bay,” he instructed, gesturing toward the open spot on the couch next to him. Aunt Tillie and Thistle were finishing their potion, a cauldron bubbling in the open spot behind the couch. Landon seemed perfectly content watching them work, his feet propped on the table.

  “I’m helping Aunt Tillie and Thistle,” I argued, even though it was the furthest thing from the truth.

  “No, you’re not.” He patted the couch again. “You’re hovering because you’re nervous. You keep checking every corner for Viola. She’ll find you when she’s managed to do as you asked. You can’t make her arrive before she’s ready.”

  “Actually, she can,” Thistle countered. She had an eye dropper in her hand and was measuring out a liquid I didn’t recognize. “She’s a necromancer. She can make ghosts do whatever she wants just by wishing it.”

  Landon shot her a look. “You’re not helping.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know I was supposed to be helping.” Thistle shot him a smile so saccharine it made my teeth hurt. “I’ll try to do better, King Landon.”

  “You jest, but that’s the perfect title for me.” He patted the sofa again. “Bay, come on. You’re making me tired ... and you’re going to need your energy for when we do track Dani down.”

  I knew he was right. That didn’t mean I was in the mood to be ordered around. “I’ll sit,” I said, scooting into one of the chairs instead of settling next to him on the couch. “But not where you want me to.”

  “Fine.” He made a face. “I smell like doughnuts. If you sit next to me, then you can smell the doughnuts too.”

  “You just want me to sniff you.”

  “That’s not true. I want you to rub yourself against me, too.”

  I didn’t allow myself to laugh. If I did, he might skate on answering questions about the weird way my father had greeted me. “Tell me what you and Dad have going on and I’ll sit next to you,” I offered after a beat.

  “Sit next to me and I’ll tell you what your father and I have been talking about,” he shot back.

  “I like my way better.”

  “I think you need to be the giver today, Bay. I’ve given quite a bit over the past week and all I’ve gotten in return is threats from Mrs. Little and an unfortunate evening when I smelled like cherry pie and you didn’t want to touch me.”

>   His expression was so hangdog I almost gave in. Then I remembered he was acting weird. I didn’t like people who acted weird ... except for Aunt Tillie ... and Thistle ... and Clove ... and sometimes my mother ... and almost always Twila. Wait, where was I going with this?

  “Tell me,” I insisted, my temper building. “I know something’s going on. My father was expecting our visit, but for a different reason. I don’t understand why he would think that unless you promised him something.”

  “Come here and I’ll tell you.”

  I was suspicious, and rightly so. “Tell me and I’ll come over there.”

  “Oh, geez.” Aunt Tillie emitted a gagging sound as she tirelessly worked with Thistle. “You two are about to make me throw up my breakfast. Do you have to flirt in front of me like that? You know it gives me the trots.”

  I frowned. “How can listening to us have a conversation — it’s not flirting, no matter what you think — give you the trots?”

  “Because too much sugar gives me the trots and you two are seriously five seconds away from mounting one another.” She paused what she was doing long enough to fix Landon with a pointed look. “You have a job to do. Do you want me to take away the doughnut smell? If you can’t focus on your job, I’ll have to remove the spell. Is that what you want?”

  Landon looked pained. “You can’t do that. I haven’t even gotten to enjoy it yet. Not really, at least.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Yours!” He jabbed a finger at her. “You came up with the bright idea of dressing in black and hiding in the woods to find out who was digging holes.”

  “Um ... and it worked like a charm.”

  “Eric Savage is dead.”

  “Yes, well, that part leaves a little to be desired,” Aunt Tillie acknowledged. “But now we know who’s behind all of this. We wouldn’t know if we hadn’t gone. We’re thirty-five minutes away from having the potion we need. Then all we have to do is find Dani, make her drink it, and have the little men in white coats drag her away. Easy-peasy.”