Wicked Witches of the Midwest 9 Read online

  “You just said that the tanker was haunted,” Clove protested.

  “I said I think it’s haunted,” I clarified. “I didn’t see any actual ghosts.”

  “What did you see?” Thistle asked, her expression serious. “Was it bad?”

  “It wasn’t good,” I replied. “It was … dark. There were multiple images layering over one another. I saw people running and screaming. I saw a hand holding a knife.”

  “Was it men? Women?”

  “Mostly men, but there were a few women,” I said. “I don’t know how to explain it. I saw a few bodies hit the deck … and blood was seeping into the grates. The rusty grate you pointed at. That was covered in blood.”

  “Oh, well, great,” Clove said. “Blood is eating away at the ship. It’s going to sink thanks to blood. It really is the end of the world.”

  “Stop being such a kvetch,” Thistle warned, scorching Clove with a dark look. They shared ownership of a magic shop in town and spent an inordinate amount of time together so they fought more than anyone else. “We don’t know what’s wrong and there’s no sense freaking out before we know the whole story.”

  “I agree with Thistle,” I offered. “It’s going to be okay, Clove. Even if it is haunted … well … we’re witches. We can cleanse the tanker of bad elements and help the ghosts pass over. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “I also think we should take you to the clinic to have your head checked out,” Thistle added.

  “I don’t agree with Thistle any longer,” I said. “I’m fine. I was momentarily overwhelmed. I’m not going to the clinic.”

  Thistle and Clove exchanged a look. I knew what they were thinking but I refused to give in. “Also, I don’t want you mentioning to anyone what happened,” I added. “It’s not going to do anyone any good, and they’ll only worry if they find out I kind of passed out.”

  “Who is anyone?” Thistle challenged.

  “Anyone outside of the three of us.”

  Clove balked. “But … I can’t lie to my mother. You know I can’t. She always figures it out and is mean when she knows I’m keeping something from her.”

  “How will she figure it out?” I challenged, annoyed. “Also, how is it lying? I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to not volunteer information. There’s a difference.”

  “Not really,” Clove sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at the wall.

  “While I’m not as puritan as Clove about telling the truth, I’m not exactly keen on keeping this to ourselves,” Thistle hedged. “What if it happens again? What if you are sick? I think you should at least tell Landon.”

  Landon was the last one I wanted to tell. Er, actually that wasn’t true. Mom and Aunt Tillie were the last ones I wanted to tell. Mom would hover and try to make me eat soup in bed. Aunt Tillie would call me a wimp and taunt me until I cried. Landon, though, would worry until it consumed him.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “He has enough on his plate. He’s been working that gambling ring in Traverse City for two straight weeks. He’s exhausted. I want him to relax this weekend.”

  “He would want to know,” Thistle challenged. “If the same thing happened to him and he didn’t tell you, there would be a lot of yelling and finger pointing. It doesn’t seem right to keep him in the dark.”

  She had a point. Still … . “I don’t want to worry him,” I said. “It was a fluke thing. It won’t happen again. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” Thistle held up her hands in mock surrender. “I won’t tell him.”

  “Thank you.” I was secretly relieved. I wasn’t sure she’d go along with my plan.

  “I won’t tell him right now,” Thistle corrected. “If something else happens, though, all bets are off. I’ll tell him and not feel guilty at all.”

  I ground my back teeth as I regarded her. “I … fine.”

  “Great,” Thistle said, brightening considerably. “Now, what should we do about the tanker? I think we should conduct a little research and see what we find out about it.”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  “What’s a good idea?”

  The three of us jerked our heads in the direction of the door and forced smiles as Sam walked into the room. He didn’t seem surprised to see us. He had a bright smile on his face as he dropped a kiss on Clove’s cheek. Apparently he hadn’t been eavesdropping long because he had no idea anything was wrong.

  “We were just talking about Thistle sketching out some haunted scene ideas,” I lied. “Because the tanker is so big we figure that decorating only the main deck and cabin will be feasible this year.”

  “Yeah,” Thistle said, recovering quickly. “That way we can take our time and come up with really creepy stuff for below deck. I was thinking we could do a haunted pirate room, but that will take time to plan.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Sam said, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension flitting through the room. “As long as we make some money this season, I’m happy to give you the time to come up with something really cool. I prefer doing it right.”

  “We all would,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “Speaking of doing it right,” Sam said, his eyes twinkling as he turned to Clove. “I have some huge news.”

  “Really?” Clove was intrigued despite herself.

  “Really.” Sam bobbed his head. “My parents are coming for a visit and they can’t wait to meet you.”

  All thoughts of tanker hauntings and aneurysms obviously flew out of Clove’s head as her face paled and she gripped the arm of the couch tightly. “What?”

  “My parents are coming,” Sam said, smiling. “They want to meet you and see the Dandridge and the tanker. They’ll be here in a few days.”

  Clove’s mouth dropped open. “I … a few days?”

  Sam nodded.

  Clove hopped to her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me? This place is a total mess. We have to clean everything from top to bottom.”

  Sam was surprised. “We do?” He glanced around. “It looks clean to me.”

  “It’s clean for us and everyday guests,” Clove explained. “It’s not clean for mothers. Your mother can’t see it looking like this.”

  Sam didn’t seem motivated to join in with the cleaning even when Clove handed him a broom.

  “And the kvetch is back,” Thistle said, grinning as she leaned back in the chair and watched Clove melt down about the lack of cleaning supplies. “All is right with the world.”

  “You’re kind of mean,” I pointed out.

  “That’s also right with the world.”

  THREE

  “T here’s my girl.”

  Landon was all smiles when he walked through the front door of the guesthouse shortly after four. He had a duffel bag in one hand and a stack of files in the other – which indicated he would have to do some work over the weekend – but I was so happy to see him I didn’t care.

  I gave him a big hug, giggling when he dropped the duffel bag and made growling noises into my neck as he kissed it.

  Landon Michaels doesn’t look like a typical FBI agent. His black hair is shoulder length, and his face is angular and handsome. He’s all lean muscle and strength. There’s something very masculine about him despite the long hair, which he maintains he needs in case he has to go undercover.

  We met when he was undercover, and the long hair was something of a turn on. That was almost a year ago, though, and the idea of him taking off for extended periods for undercover assignments makes me sad. I know it’s part of the deal – dating a law enforcement official is never easy – but when it does happen I’m sure I’ll be despondent. Wait … did that sound co-dependent? Who cares, right? He’s freaking hot.

  “I missed you this week,” I said, hugging him close. “I haven’t seen you for two nights. It feels like forever.”

  “I was here for dinner and to spend the night Tuesday,” he reminded me, pulling back so he could study my face. “I think
you’re just addicted to me.”

  “She’s warm for your form,” Marcus teased as he walked out of Thistle’s room. He and Thistle had been dating for a few months longer than we had, and he’s much more laid back than Landon. Everyone gets along, though. Er, well, everyone gets along as much as possible. Thistle and I like to fight at least three times a week. I think it keeps us looking young.

  “She is warm for my form,” Landon agreed, his grin impish as he smacked a loud kiss against my lips. “I missed you, too.”

  “Oh, great,” Thistle muttered, a dour look on her face when she joined us in the living room. “Are you guys going to be all mushy for the next few hours? You know how much I hate that.”

  Landon regarded Thistle with a dubious look. “What don’t you hate? As far as I can tell, you hate pretty much everything.”

  “Well, I definitely hate you today,” Thistle shot back, not missing a beat. “As for what I like … well … .” She smiled at Marcus and pushed his blond hair away from his face. “I think Marcus is the only thing I like on a regular basis.”

  “Oh, and you accuse us of being mushy,” I teased.

  “You are mushy,” Thistle said, flopping on the couch next to Marcus. “I find it completely embarrassing how mushy you are.”

  “I find it completely embarrassing how mushy you are,” I shot back.

  “Oh, I like it when you’re both mushy,” Landon said, snagging me around the waist and pulling me onto his lap as he settled in the large armchair at the edge of the room. “I think we should have a mushy weekend where we all get along and no one fights.”

  “I second that,” Marcus said. “I like quiet weekends.”

  “Well, we might be okay for tonight, but it won’t be a stress-free weekend,” I said, working overtime to ignore the way Landon studied my profile. It felt as if he was trying to burrow into my soul. “We have a family catastrophe to deal with for the bulk of the weekend.”

  “Oh, good,” Landon deadpanned. “I love family catastrophes. What’s wrong this time? Is Aunt Tillie selling wine again? Is she on the warpath? Should we buy a combat helmet for Mrs. Little? Actually, that might be fun. Let’s buy Mrs. Little a combat helmet and lock her in a room with Aunt Tillie and see what happens.”

  “For the first time in I don’t know how long, our catastrophe has nothing to do with Aunt Tillie,” I replied. “It’s Clove.”

  Landon’s shoulders tightened. “What’s wrong with Clove? She’s not moving back in, is she? This place is small enough without adding her back into the mix. Although, to be fair, that would end the fights between you and Thistle about what to do with the extra room. Maybe she should move back in.”

  “You’re extremely scattered today, huh?” I teased, running my index finger down his cheek. “Is this what happens when you spend more than one night away from me?”

  “That is agony,” Landon confirmed, grinning. “I thought I was getting sick this morning. It turns out I just missed my Bay.”

  “Oh, puke,” Thistle muttered, rolling her eyes. “I cannot stand one more second of your schmaltzy verbal copulation. Why don’t you guys just go in the bedroom and do it so I don’t have to hear the buildup. I think we’d all appreciate that.”

  “I would totally appreciate it,” Landon said, refusing to let Thistle rile him. “I think that sounds like a fabulous idea.”

  “Great,” Thistle shot back. “That will give Marcus and me time to turn the extra bedroom into my crafts room. I’ll pay you twenty bucks if you last more than twenty minutes.”

  Landon’s smile tipped down into a frown. “I miss Bay every moment I’m away from her,” he said. “I don’t miss you, though.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “Okay, it’s the beginning of the weekend,” Marcus said, holding up his hands. “Let’s not start it out on the wrong foot, shall we?”

  “I agree,” I said, shifting on Landon’s lap. “There’s no reason to fight … especially because I’ll make you eat dirt if you do anything to that room when I’m not looking, Thistle.”

  “Ooh. I’m so scared.” Thistle mimed as if her hands trembled. “We both know I could take you in a fight.”

  “I don’t think that’s true, but there’s no reason to test your theory without mud … or at least Jell-O,” Landon said, tightening his arms around my waist. “If you guys keep this up, I’m going to buy a roll of duct tape and cut the guesthouse down the middle. It will be like an episode of The Brady Bunch, and no one wants that.”

  “Oh, I think that sounds cute,” Marcus teased, poking Thistle’s side to get her to relax. “I want to be Greg if we play The Brady Bunch.”

  “No way,” Landon shot back. “I’m Greg. You can be Peter.”

  “Why would you possibly want to be Greg?” I challenged. “He was a total geek.”

  “They were all geeks,” Landon replied. “Don’t kid yourself. Still, Greg was the coolest of the geeks, and because you’re the oldest, that means you’re Marcia. Greg and Marcia hooked up behind the scenes. That means I’m Greg.”

  “You know way too much about The Brady Bunch,” I said.

  “My mother had a thing for the show and always made me watch it,” Landon explained. “Besides, you have a weird thing for Little House on the Prairie. At least my thing doesn’t include churning butter and going blind.”

  “That’s a great show.”

  “Whatever.” Landon kissed my cheek. “I’m Greg.”

  “Well, I’m not Jan,” Thistle said. “I’m not Cindy either. She had a lisp, and those curls were so annoying.”

  “You should be Alice,” I suggested. “You can be our maid for the weekend. I think it works out for everyone.”

  Thistle scowled. “I hate you sometimes. I’m totally going to turn Clove’s room into a crafts area and lock you out.”

  “I would like to see you try.”

  “I’m going to smack you in the mouth when I do it, too,” Thistle said, smiling sweetly.

  “Oh, I love being surrounded by such prim and proper ladies,” Marcus teased, his eyes flashing. “Go back to the family catastrophe, though. What is it?”

  “Yeah, I almost forgot about that,” Landon said. “What’s darkening the Winchester doorstep this weekend? Ghosts? Werewolves? If it’s zombies I’m going to rent a hotel room for three days, because no one wants to deal with that.”

  I snickered. “No, it’s not really a catastrophe,” I said. “Er, well, it’s not a catastrophe for us. It’s more of a catastrophe for Clove.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Sam’s parents are coming to town,” Thistle offered. “Clove was in a perfectly good mood until Sam told her. Now she’s freaking out and forcing him to clean the Dandridge.”

  “Why is that a problem?” Landon asked, genuinely curious. “I would think Clove would be happy to meet the Cornells. They’re Sam’s family, after all. What could possibly go wrong?”

  I arched a challenging eyebrow as I regarded him. Did he seriously not remember what happened when I met his family? “It’s difficult to meet your boyfriend’s parents. It’s very nerve-racking.”

  “Why?”

  “Because … .” How could I explain this to him without sounding like a big baby?

  “Because there’s always the chance the mother will hate you,” Thistle supplied. “Heck, it’s more than just a chance. Most mothers hate all of the women their sons date.”

  Landon snorted. “That’s not true. My mother loved Bay when she met her.”

  He definitely remembered things differently than I did. “She didn’t think I was good enough for you, and you know it. It took her almost a full week to warm up to me.”

  “That’s not true,” Landon argued. “She liked you. It’s just … we were all working overtime to make sure she didn’t find out about the witch stuff. Then there was the poltergeist problem. Then you fell off the horse and went missing, and I thought I was going to die because I couldn’t find you.”

  Even
when he remembered things wrong he was cute, and I couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him. “You thought you were going to die, huh?”

  “I did,” Landon confirmed, resting his cheek against my forehead. “My mother liked you, though.”

  “She didn’t like me at first, and I was a nervous wreck,” I pointed out. “That’s neither here nor there, though. She ended up liking me, and I’m grateful for that.”

  “We’re all grateful for that,” Thistle said, making an exaggerated face. “I couldn’t take the drama if she didn’t like you.”

  “That’s easy for you to say because Marcus’ mother has known you since we were kids,” I pointed out. Marcus grew up in Hemlock Cove before moving away when we were in high school. He moved back a year ago and immediately started flirting with Thistle. For the most part, their courtship was easy and trouble-free. “She already liked you, so you didn’t have to deal with the stress of meeting a mother for the first time.”

  “She liked me because I’m awesome,” Thistle said. “Perhaps you’re not as awesome as me.”

  “Yes, that must be it,” I said dryly, making a face as Landon chuckled.

  “I don’t understand why everyone is getting worked up about this,” Landon said. “I wasn’t nervous about meeting your mother.”

  “That’s because you technically met her when she was wearing a track suit and we were sneaking through a cornfield,” I reminded him. “Then you got shot saving Aunt Tillie and me. You were a hero before she ever really spoke to you.”

  “I am definitely a hero,” Landon agreed, his grin impish. “Did you really worry that much about meeting my family?”

  “Not your family,” I clarified. “I worried that much about meeting your mother. Mothers and sons have weird relationships. If she put her foot down, she could take you away from me.”

  Landon’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I just mean that if she really hated me, you would’ve had no choice but to break up with me.”

  “That’s not true,” Landon countered. “I wouldn’t have cared if my mother didn’t like you. I was already in love with you by then, even though I hadn’t admitted it to you or myself yet. There’s nothing my mother could’ve done to break us up.”