To Love a Witch Read online

  “No. He’s the pirate who supposedly buried treasure up by the lake.”

  “Oh, him.” Thistle smirked. “I knew I recognized that name. Aunt Tillie used to take us up there all the time looking for treasure. She said that because we always found her wine stash even though we were too young to drink it, we were uniquely qualified to find buried treasure. She was ticked off when the only thing we found was someone’s secret pot field.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was her pot field,” I said. “Once we blabbed about it, there was no reason for her to hide it so far from the property. That’s why it’s magically cloaked but easily accessible now.”

  “Oh, you’re right.” Thistle bobbed her head. “She did move the field to the inn not long after that. Aunt Winnie was so mad. It was hilarious.”

  I didn’t particularly remember that as a happy time in the house. It was hardly important, though. “Mrs. Little let it slip today that she tried to buy the Lakin house before Heather Castle did.”

  “How could she possibly afford that?” Clove asked. “She had to jump through hoops to get the financing for the camp and that probably cost only a quarter of what that house went for on the open market.”

  “I don’t know. Chief Terry thinks she wanted the house because she wants to look for the treasure.”

  Thistle practically choked on her coffee when she started laughing. “You cannot be serious. That’s a ridiculous town legend with no basis in fact. Arlen Topper wasn’t real.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I countered. “I have found mention of him in land deeds from back then. I’m guessing his exploits were exaggerated. If he really did have money buried up there, someone would’ve found it.”

  “Or it’s gone forever,” Thistle agreed. “Are we sure Mrs. Little wanted the property for that reason? Maybe she just wants to retire on that lake or something. She might’ve had a plan in place and is still miffed that Landon swooped in and bought it out from under her.”

  I’d considered that, but something felt off about the scenario. “I don’t know. I just find it odd. I spent the afternoon researching Arlen out of curiosity.”

  “That seems like a great way to waste your time when there’s a murder to cover,” Thistle said.

  I managed to rein in my temper enough to refrain from barking at her — just barely. “When I told Valerie she was dead, she seemed confused and took off. It could be days before she shows up. I have nowhere to focus when it comes to the murder, so I’m not really wasting time.”

  “Except you can make her show up,” Thistle reminded me. “You’re a necromancer, Bay. You control ghosts. If you have questions for Valerie, force her to come here and answer them. You have the power to do it.”

  “Yeah, but ... .” The notion made me feel icky.

  “Bay doesn’t want to do that,” Clove said. “She’s afraid if she starts using that magic for every little want and whim that she’ll turn dark. Given what’s going on with Dani, that’s a line she doesn’t want to cross. Give her a break.”

  I worked my jaw. “Since when are you a mind reader?”

  “I’ve always been intuitive,” Clove replied. “Now that I’m pregnant, I find my senses are keener. All my senses, including my sense of smell, which is why Thistle needs to get rid of anything that smells like mint. It makes me gag.”

  “I’m not getting rid of the mint,” Thistle fired back. “We’ve talked about this. The mint is important for rituals. A lot of rituals. It stays.”

  “Well, then I don’t want to hear a thing about the constant vomit you’ll be cleaning up.”

  “Why will I be cleaning it up?”

  “Because I’m pregnant and my sore back won’t allow me to do it.”

  I chewed my bottom lip and avoided Thistle’s murderous stare. She wanted me to side with her, but I found Clove’s newfound backbone — however manipulative — entertaining. I cleared my throat to draw their attention before we could be indefinitely sidetracked. “Speaking of Dani, for all we know, she could have killed Valerie. She’s out there at the camp.”

  Thistle slowly dragged her gaze from Clove, her forehead wrinkling. “Dani? Why would she want to kill Valerie?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have any proof, but I’d be lying if I said the possibility didn’t occur to me. She’s not getting any better. I keep telling people she is, but that’s just wishful thinking. If anything, she’s worse. I’m not sure she can come back from this.”

  Thistle clucked her tongue, sympathetic. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s probably time we start coming up with a contingency plan. If she can’t be tamed we’re going to need an alternative. It’s not as if Hazel can live out at that camp with her for the rest of her life.”

  “I know. And Landon is making noise about me going out there. I don’t know what else to do.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “We were raised to believe that actions have consequences. Dani doesn’t believe that. She still doesn’t think she did anything wrong. She has no remorse whatsoever regarding the death of her father.”

  “Then maybe that’s your answer,” Thistle said. “Maybe it’s time to give up.”

  “And do what?” I practically exploded. “We’re not capable of keeping her under lock and key forever. Human cops aren’t either. I’ve repeatedly warned Landon about going out there because I can see her hurting him for kicks. If we turn her over to law enforcement, someone else will die. They won’t be able to contain her.”

  “So, what options do we have?” Clove looked genuinely curious as she rubbed her stomach. “If we can’t contain her, do we have to eliminate her?”

  “We’re not the dudes from Goodfellas,” I groused, annoyed. “We can’t just kill her.”

  Thistle opened her mouth and I sensed she was going to argue that point. Wisely, though, she changed her mind. “We’ll all put our minds to it,” she promised. “We’ll figure something out. This isn’t simply your problem. We all need to deal with her together.”

  She was trying to make me feel better, but it was a wasted effort. The more I thought about Dani, the more my insides constricted. “Thanks. I just don’t know what to do. I ... .” A furtive form flew past the front window. When I turned to get a better look, I recognized Aunt Tillie.

  She was moving so fast she couldn’t be walking — or even running. Even though I couldn’t see it, I was convinced she was on her new electric scooter. The cape she’d had made for her outings streamed behind her, and underneath the combat helmet she wore for safety was a determined expression.

  “What is she doing?” Clove asked.

  “I’m almost afraid to look,” I admitted, getting to my feet and moving toward the window. “I haven’t seen her on that thing for a few days. I thought she’d lost interest.”

  “Winnie hid it from her,” Thistle volunteered, sliding in at my side and peering through the window. “She was sick of Aunt Tillie riding it around the inn. Aunt Tillie was threatening to get a basket to put Peg in so they could both enjoy it together. I think that was the final straw that made Winnie snap.”

  The image of Aunt Tillie in her offensive leggings with a pig in a basket riding a scooter made me smile. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. It’s good for her. She gets a workout while riding it.”

  “That’s my philosophy,” Thistle agreed. “Winnie says she’s broken three vases.”

  “Then put up the vases.”

  “You’re preaching to the wrong Winchester,” Thistle said. “That scooter has been a great investment. Aunt Tillie has barely been around since she got it.”

  “What has she been doing on it?” Clove asked. Apparently the sight of Aunt Tillie on her scooter was enough to motivate her off the couch.

  “That.” I inclined my head toward the corner, to where Mrs. Little stood with another woman. They looked to be having an intense conversation and weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, which they would live to regret in about five seconds.r />
  “I still don’t understand,” Clove said.

  “Watch,” Thistle said, her lips curving as Aunt Tillie appeared on the sidewalk behind Mrs. Little and the other woman. “Here it comes.”

  “Oh, this looks bad.” Clove chewed her lip. “Shouldn’t we stop whatever she’s about to do?”

  “No,” Thistle and I answered in unison.

  “It’s funny,” I added. “Compared to all the other things she’s done to Mrs. Little, this is mild.”

  “But ... .” Clove trailed off when she realized Aunt Tillie was building up speed. “Oh, I’m so afraid.”

  She barely got the sentence out before it happened. Aunt Tillie invoked her magic, causing a small tornado to form next to her, and as she sped past Mrs. Little and her friend, the force of the cyclone started pulling on clothing and hair.

  “What the ... ?” Clove’s mouth dropped open as Mrs. Little’s hair, which had always been a helmet of hairspray and curls, flew off and landed in the gutter. “Holy crap!” Clove’s eyes were so wide I swear they almost popped out of her head. “Mrs. Little wears a wig?”

  I smirked when the screaming on the corner started in earnest. Mrs. Little was stomping her feet and making a scene. “Apparently so. We were surprised when we found out, too.”

  “How could you not have called and told me this?” Clove screeched. “This is the biggest news since ... well ... we found out that her pewter was really cheap tin and she was selling knockoff unicorns.”

  “Aren’t you glad you’re back?” Thistle clapped her on the shoulder. “One thing you can say about Hemlock Cove, life here is never dull.”

  Clove cocked her head to the side. “Is she putting that filthy thing back on her head?”

  “Yeah. I think Aunt Tillie wiped out her entire wig collection over the past two weeks,” Thistle replied. “That scooter really is worth its weight in gold.”

  Nine

  Thistle and I went outside to continue watching the show. Mrs. Little’s fury was on full display as she strung together a group of curse words I wasn’t even aware she knew. Her face fired crimson as her friend did her best to help tug the wig back into place.

  “What are you looking at?” Mrs. Little barked when she realized Thistle and I were on the street and staring.

  “We’re debating the meaning of life,” Thistle drawled. “I think that happiness is the most important thing, but Bay thinks it’s good hair. What do you think?”

  I cringed at the look she cast in my direction. “Good manners are the most important,” she sniped.

  “Really? I never would’ve guessed.” Thistle snickered and tugged on my arm. “We’re going to take a walk. It’s a lovely day for it. Beautiful sun, a mild breeze just strong enough to tickle the ends of my hair.”

  Sensing the conversation was going to completely fly off the rails, I grabbed Thistle’s wrist and pulled with all my might. Even though she tried to remain planted in her spot, it was no use, and she gave in.

  “You’re no fun,” she complained as we rounded the corner in search of our wayward great-aunt. “How often do we get a chance to mess with her?”

  “Every single day of our lives. We grew up with Aunt Tillie.”

  “It’s still fun.”

  “I don’t think Mrs. Little agrees.”

  “Like I care what that hateful old bat thinks,” Thistle grumbled. “That woman has made it her life’s mission to mess with us at every turn. Do you remember when we were kids and she called our mothers and told them we were at the town picnic passing around a bottle of Aunt Tillie’s wine?”

  “We were at the picnic with the wine.”

  “That doesn’t matter. She enjoyed ratting us out.”

  “We were also all under the age of sixteen,” I reminded her.

  “So? We weren’t drinking it — at least not that day. We were selling it. And we made a killing.”

  I remembered that little business venture well. “We all got new summer sneakers out of it.” I smiled at the memory as we turned another corner. There, sure enough, was Aunt Tillie. She looked to be having a grand time as she cackled and cavorted. Hazel was with her, and the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings as Aunt Tillie reenacted her wig attack.

  “You should’ve seen it,” she enthused, leaning against her scooter and tipping her combat helmet back so her gleeful face was visible. “The wig flew off as if it was a bat or something. It landed right in the gutter. It was awesome.”

  I cleared my throat to get their attention. Hazel, clearly distressed at being caught celebrating Tillie’s torturing of Mrs. Little, had the grace to be ashamed. Aunt Tillie was another story.

  “Whatever you think I did, you’re mistaken.” She was the picture of innocence as she met my gaze. “I was just out riding my scooter — at my age you have to enjoy life to the fullest because you don’t know when you’re going to go to sleep and never wake up. Whatever that old biddy says I did, she’s lying.”

  It took everything I had not to laugh.

  “We saw the whole thing,” Thistle offered. “We’re not angry. It was funny. Well, actually, Bay might pretend to be angry, but she’s really not. We were laughing so hard we fogged up the window.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Tillie straightened. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “What makes you think we have a problem?” I asked, my eyes drifting to Hazel. She didn’t say anything, but I guessed what she wanted most in the world was to find a rock to crawl under.

  “You have that look.” Aunt Tillie’s lips curved into a sneer. “Listen, I’m an adult. I’m allowed to do whatever I want. That includes riding my scooter and minding my own business — which is exactly what you saw me doing a few minutes ago. You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Believe it or not, we were trying to find you to congratulate you,” I offered. “We thought you would be alone.”

  “Hey, we’re playing nice.” Aunt Tillie held out her hands. “She’s still not my favorite person in the world or anything, but she’s better than Margaret.”

  “We don’t care about that,” I stressed.

  “We don’t,” Thistle agreed, leaning closer to me. “What do we care about again?”

  “The fact that Dani is apparently at the camp alone,” I answered loudly enough for Aunt Tillie and Hazel to hear, my gaze pointed. “She’s never supposed to be alone. We agreed on that.”

  “We did.” Hazel straightened her shoulders and met my gaze head on. “I’m not shirking my duties. It’s just ... she’s a lot of work. Occasionally I need a break. She was taking a nap and I thought it was a good time to take a breather and regroup. I’m sorry if that makes you unhappy.”

  The weariness she wore like a blanket caused me to reconsider what I wanted to say. “You know what? It’s probably good that you’re here. We rarely get to talk when Dani isn’t around eavesdropping. We should go into Hypnotic, have some coffee and tea, and discuss a few things.”

  Hazel nodded. “That’s probably best.”

  “You should come, too,” I said to Aunt Tillie, my tone no-nonsense. “You’re involved in this as much as we are.”

  “I’ve already told you my feelings on the situation,” she sniffed. “I think we should dig a hole, toss her in it, and leave her for the animals to scavenge. That’s just me, though.”

  She was a big talker, but I knew she was just as worried as I was. “You’re part of this. We need to come up with a new plan. Obviously Hazel can’t spend every waking moment with Dani.”

  Aunt Tillie worked her jaw, giving me the distinct impression that she might continue arguing. But she threw up her hands. “Fine. Have it your way. We’ll talk about Dani. I’ll have you know that I was going to circle the block and give a repeat performance. You’ve totally ruined my fun.”

  “You’ll live.”

  Thistle tugged on my shirt sleeve. “She could meet us at the store after the repeat performance,” she suggested.

  Frustration bubbled up. “Since when
are you a fan of giving her what she wants?”

  “Since it will drive Mrs. Little crazy. She’s the Devil. We all agreed that you have to shout at the Devil. This is Aunt Tillie’s version of shouting.”

  I was going to argue but realized it ultimately didn’t matter. Aunt Tillie would find a way to get what she wanted no matter what. “Fine. One encore.” I held up my index finger for emphasis. “But just one. After that, we have serious issues to discuss.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Aunt Tillie gripped the handlebar of her scooter. “You really need to learn to lighten up. You’re far too young to be this stodgy.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  HAZEL MADE A BEELINE FOR CLOVE WHEN we entered Hypnotic through the back door. She knew darned well that Clove would be the most sympathetic to her plight. In truth, I felt bad for the situation we’d placed her in. Unfortunately, I was fresh out of ideas on how we could go about fixing it.

  “She can’t stay out there with Dani twenty-four hours a day,” Thistle noted in a low voice as we moved back to the window. We craned our necks to see the front of Mrs. Little’s store. She was still outside, her lips flapping as she complained, but I couldn’t yet see Aunt Tillie.

  “I know that. I’m not angry as much as worried.”

  “Okay, but we’re all swimming in uncharted waters here. She’s doing the best that she can. You’re doing the best that you can. If Dani fails, then Dani will have to face the consequences.”

  What she said made sense. I was still uneasy. “We need to come up with a plan. There could be someone dangerous in those woods for all we know ... and I’m not talking about Heather. Dani could take Heather, no problem.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but Dani could take almost anyone, including us. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “I hope so. Wait, did Aunt Tillie change her outfit?” I narrowed my eyes as I tried to make out the figure on the scooter. It was definitely Aunt Tillie, but the cape she’d been wearing five minutes before had disappeared. In its place she looked to be wearing a fuzzy onesie, complete with hood and fin.