All My Witches (A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy Book 5) Read online

  “She’s watched soaps long enough to know that’s normal,” Thistle pointed out. “Abrupt recasts happen all the time.”

  “And no one thinks that’s weird?” Landon shook his head. “I don’t get it. There’s no logic in this world.”

  “Yes, because the fairy tale world was an education on strict logic,” Sam said.

  I swallowed a chuckle as Landon scorched him with a dark look. “I don’t think the recast thing is important in the grand scheme of things. It’s just an added detail I picked up. I think Aunt Tillie has been plotting this world for a long time. There’s no way she came up with this in a night, especially on a night we were drinking.”

  “So you think she was going to shove us here no matter what,” Clove surmised. “She only did it last night because she was agitated.”

  I nodded. “I think we were always going to end up here eventually.”

  “I just want to know how many of these worlds she has planned for us,” Landon said. “She watches a lot of television. I’m guessing she enjoys doing this crap enough that she’s going to shove us in a Star Trek episode at some point just to get a few laughs.”

  “I’m less worried about Star Trek than I am about her affinity for Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead.”

  Landon chuckled. “Every once in a while you show flashes of being an optimist. I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh.”

  “I don’t know why either.” I leaned my head against his shoulder, smiling as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “We have to find her. We won’t get out of here until we do.”

  “So I guess we should get moving, huh?” Landon slid his arm around my back, furrowing his brow when he focused on the room across the hallway. The window was open, so we could see inside. “One minute ago there was a kid in that bed. Now there’s a teenager.”

  I turned in that direction, pursing my lips. “Does the kid look sick?”

  “They were fussing over the smaller kid’s head, and he had a big bandage on it,” Landon replied. “From what I could tell, he didn’t have an injury.”

  “That’s not unheard of. It’s not as if they shave people’s heads when they’re hurt on soaps. They just pretend they manage to conduct surgery without ruining anyone’s hairline.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “You seem to be saying that a lot today.”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to keep saying it, too,” Landon said. “The thing is … now there’s a teenager in that bed. He’s wearing the same bandage – although it’s not even like the last one – and the same set of parents are sitting watch. What’s going on?”

  “They age soap kids a lot,” I explained. “Very few soap kids keep their roles for the duration. Soaps usually skip the unfortunate puberty stage. They hire cute kids and then replace them with hot teenagers.”

  “I see.” Landon made a clucking sound with his tongue. “That’s a bit … extreme.”

  “It’s a soap.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually.”

  “Hopefully we won’t be here that long.” I pushed myself away from the wall. “We need to find Aunt Tillie.”

  “Yeah, but I think we lost her trail.”

  As if on cue, the giggling started again.

  “I’m so going to bash that old lady’s face in,” Thistle muttered. “I’m going to enjoy doing it, too. I’m going to sit on her chest and poke it until she cries witch and tells the world I’m smarter and stronger than her.”

  “And I thought the people in the soap world were delusional,” Landon drawled.

  Thistle cocked an eyebrow. “You’re on my list.”

  I heaved out a sigh. “I see we all have lists this go-around. It should be fun when we land back home.”

  If you could bring anyone back from the dead, who would it be? I’ve always thought that was over-used on soaps, but I get it now. I often wish I could kill people with the power of my mind and then regret thinking bad thoughts after the fact. If people could come back from the dead – and not in a creepy zombie way – then I could totally kill with impunity and no one would care.

  – Aunt Tillie explaining why murder, at least in her case, isn’t an issue

  Nine

  “Jericho?”

  The face that cut us off in the hallway that led to the basement – which was where Aunt Tillie’s infuriating laughter emanated from – belonged to a woman who couldn’t be a day over twenty. Not only was she young and fresh-faced, she was thin and stacked. The latter part was illustrated to perfection thanks to her candy striper uniform. Wait … are candy stripers even a thing anymore?

  Landon pulled up short. “Do I know you?”

  “Are you … joking?”

  “No. I have amnesia.”

  I marveled at how quickly Landon embraced the amnesia storyline. He whipped out the explanation whenever questioned at this point. The characters were predisposed to believe it, so I understood the inclination.

  “You have amnesia?” The girl’s face twisted into an expression that could only be described as heartbreaking. I didn’t like her on sight, so it made me want to laugh. “But … that will ruin everything.” Her lower lip quivered as her eyes filled with tears. “Are you saying you don’t remember me?”

  “Oh, I can’t take this.” Landon scrubbed his hands over his cheeks. “She doesn’t look old enough to play this part of the game.”

  “I’m nineteen,” the girl huffed.

  “Definitely not old enough.” Landon flicked his eyes to me. “You know this isn’t real, right?”

  Even though the earlier girlfriends irritated me, I couldn’t help feeling for him in this instance. She did look really young, and Landon wasn’t the type to prey on vulnerable young women. “I know. I’m sorry. Aunt Tillie doesn’t care how she has her fun … as long as she has it.”

  “I don’t understand how you can’t remember me,” the girl pressed. “It’s me, Jericho. It’s the love of your life … Sandy Shores.”

  “Oh, Sandy Shores?” Thistle rolled her eyes as she barked out a laugh. “Aunt Tillie must’ve had a field day coming up with these names.”

  Sandy was offended. “What’s wrong with my name?”

  “I don’t even know where to begin,” Thistle replied. “When I can marvel at the stupidity of a name, though, you know something is wrong.”

  “I was named after my grandmother,” Sandy announced. “She was a brilliant woman who served as the first female head of surgery at this very hospital.”

  “Oh, well, that’s a nice legacy,” I offered.

  Sandy ignored me. “She conducted the first conscious brain transplant in history.”

  “A brain transplant, huh?” Landon didn’t look impressed. “Well, that’s something to be proud of, Sandy. I’m glad for your good memories about your grandmother. That’s probably a good thing – a good role model – for you to emulate.”

  “Wait … did you say conscious?” Marcus interjected. “Does that mean the patient was conscious during the surgery?”

  “It does.”

  “See, that’s not possible,” Marcus complained.

  “And a brain transplant when both parties are unconscious is possible?” Sam challenged. “I’m not a real brain surgeon, but even I know that’s not possible.”

  “I think it would be neat,” Clove said. “Imagine having your brain moved to someone else’s body. I would want to be transported to Megan Fox’s body. I called it. No one else can have her.”

  Even though I often found Clove’s ideas amusing, this time I couldn’t hide my disdain. “Then you’ll have to sleep with her husband … and she’s already had three kids.”

  “I just want her body, not her kids.”

  “Oh, well, at least you’ve figured it out,” I muttered.

  “This is a stupid conversation,” Sam complained.

  “We’ve had way worse,” Thistle pointed out. “Where have you been?”

  Sam shot her a dark look. “You�
�re really on my last nerve.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “This is getting us nowhere,” I said, raising my hands to silence the others. “We need to find Aunt Tillie. She has the diamond and she’s obviously leading us to a particular place. As much as I hate that giggling she’s doing, I don’t see where we have many options.”

  “I agree with Bay,” Landon said, doing his best to ignore the looks Sandy kept lobbing at him. She was making a big show of widening her eyes to saucer-like proportions while allowing the occasional strategic tear to drop. “We need to get moving.”

  “But … what about me?” Sandy challenged, putting her hand on Landon’s arm to keep him from moving past her.

  “I have a job to do,” Landon said gently. “I’m sure we’ll meet up later to talk about … how you should be dating boys your own age.”

  “I don’t want to date boys my own age.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  “But … I love you.” Sandy’s lower lip quivered to perfection. “There are times when I look at you while you’re sleeping – I film you sometimes when you don’t know it so I can re-watch the video when you’re undercover and fill my heart with the love I so desperately miss while you’re away – and I just know that our souls were meant to join.”

  “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit,” Thistle drawled.

  She wasn’t the only one. “Sandy, I’m sure that your feelings for Jericho are … something to behold,” I started. “But we’re on an undercover assignment. He can’t get his memory back until we finish it.”

  Sandy’s eyes were full of loathing when they locked with mine. “I know who you are.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re Michael Ferrigno’s wife,” Sandy continued. “Jericho is investigating him. He’s going to bring him down. And, when he does, I’m going to get the love of my life back and you’re going to get nothing.”

  “Okay, time out.” Landon made a tee with his hands. “What kind of undercover police officer tells everyone about the case he’s working on? That’s not how it works. Did I tell you I was an undercover police officer when we met, Bay?”

  I shook my head. “No, but you did hit on me while undercover.”

  “Barely.”

  “You still did it.”

  “Yeah, and look how that worked out,” Landon pressed. “We’re living together. We’re happy – when crap like this doesn’t pop up, I mean – and we’re in love. I don’t see where I did anything wrong during my first assignment.”

  “You definitely didn’t do anything wrong,” I agreed. “You even got shot saving me.”

  “Stop bringing that up,” Landon ordered. “I know it makes you feel guilty, but I’m over it. I don’t like hearing about it.”

  “You were shot?” Sandy’s face twisted with anger. “Is that how you got amnesia?”

  “What? Oh, sure.” Landon absently ran his hand through his hair. “We need to get moving. I want to find Aunt Tillie and that stupid diamond. This world gets stranger by the minute and I’m not sure I can take much more of it.”

  “So you’re just leaving?” Sandy’s voice rose. “How can you walk away given everything we’ve meant to each other?”

  “I’ve merely given it some thought.” Landon adopted a pragmatic tone. “I want to do the right thing by you. That means letting you go. Sometimes if you really, really … feel uncomfortable with a situation … it’s best to let the other person go so he or she can find true love.”

  Sandy’s expression was hard to read. “And that’s what you want? To let me go?”

  Landon nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not,” Sandy growled. “But you will be.”

  I really should’ve seen the slap coming. It was becoming something of a theme, after all. Sandy hit Landon so hard she caused him to rock back on his heels. I instinctively stepped forward to protect him. “Hey!”

  Sandy wasn’t about to be deterred. “I know you’re to blame for this. You took advantage of his amnesia and convinced him he loves you. Well, it’s not true. He loves me. We’re going to live happily ever after. Good always overcomes evil … and you’re evil.”

  “Oh, whatever.”

  Sandy took me by surprise when she slapped me for good measure. “Evil!”

  I held my hand to my cheek as I widened my eyes and turned to Landon. “Did she just hit me?”

  Landon looked as stunned as I felt. “Are you okay?” He moved closer, pulling my hand away so he could study my cheek. “Did that hurt?”

  “I’ve been slapped before.”

  Thistle raised her hand. “Trust me. I’ve slapped her much harder than that.”

  “Okay, well, we’re done here.” Landon put his hand on the small of my back and pushed me so I wasn’t close enough for Sandy to strike a second time. “We have to go. I’m sorry for your heartbreak.”

  Instead of issuing a threat, as I expected, Sandy dropped to her knees with an animalistic wail. “How can you do this to me? How can you abandon our love? How can you break my heart?”

  “I can’t even deal with this,” Landon muttered.

  “That’s what happens when you’re a heartbreaker,” Marcus teased.

  “Don’t add to this insanity.”

  Landon was almost at the end of the hallway when Sandy spoke again.

  “What about our baby, Jericho?”

  Landon’s body froze, the only movement coming from his hips as he slowly swiveled. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m pregnant,” Sandy announced, getting to her feet. When she hit the ground she looked like a normal, if a bit big-breasted, teenager. This time, when she stood, she was very clearly pregnant. Like … nine months pregnant. “And you’re the father.”

  “Oh, how is that even possible?” Landon whined. “You weren’t pregnant twenty seconds ago.”

  “I am now.” Sandy’s eyes narrowed until they resembled something straight out of a horror movie. “If you think you’re going to have a happily ever after with your beloved Echo Waters, think again. You might not love me, but I won’t allow you to be the one who leaves.”

  “Oh, I’ve had enough of this.” Landon grabbed my hand. “Come on, sweetie, we’re done with this.”

  Curiosity kept me from strolling away. I had a feeling this scene wasn’t quite finished.

  “I never told you the truth about me, Jericho,” Sandy hissed. “My grandmother was more than just a surgeon; she was an innovator. That means she knew how to save herself when the time came.”

  Landon rubbed his forehead, resigned. “I don’t even want to know what’s about to happen. I know it’s going to suck.”

  “My grandmother wasn’t really my grandmother when she performed her first brain transplant,” Sandy continued. “She was really my grandfather, because he’s the one who transplanted his own brain into my grandmother’s body … and this was long before he told anyone about the procedure because it was untested and could’ve led to something catastrophic.”

  Someone theatrically gasped, although I was fairly certain it wasn’t anyone in our group. “How did he conduct his own brain transplant?” I was understandably confused.

  “He was a genius. That means he had no limitations.”

  “That’s not really what that means,” Thistle pointed out. “I think there would have to be limitations on doing your own brain transplant.”

  “That hardly matters,” Sandy said. “He did it. He put his brain in my grandmother’s body. Even though it was necessary to prolong his life, he refused to be responsible for my grandmother’s death. Do you know what that means?”

  “That this is a stupid world,” Landon answered.

  Sandy ignored him. “My grandfather kept my grandmother alive, feeding her brain and hiding it in a jar so no one could see it.”

  “How do you feed a brain?” Sam asked. “Does it have a mouth no one knows about?”

  “It’s a family secret,” Sandy replied. “Six
months ago, I was in a car accident. You remember, right, Jericho? You sat vigil by my bedside for five whole minutes.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Landon said dryly.

  “I was brain dead, but my grandfather kept it to himself,” Sandy explained. “He had an idea.”

  “Oh, this is about to go to a bad horror movie place,” Sam offered. “I’m just warning you now.”

  “My grandfather transplanted my grandmother’s brain into my body, and she was finally free to reclaim her life,” Sandy announced.

  “If that’s true, why do you keep referring to them as ‘grandmother’ and ‘grandfather’?” Thistle asked.

  “I have to keep up the ruse,” Sandy said. “It’s important that no one ever know.”

  “So that explains why you told us,” Landon muttered. “Well, Sandy – or whatever your name is – that’s a lovely story. I’m sorry you’ve been through so much.”

  “And now I’m pregnant,” Sandy said. “How do you expect me to explain carrying your baby to my husband, whose brain is really in my old body?”

  “I would suggest having a fifth of bourbon on hand when you do it,” Landon replied without hesitation. “Come on, Bay. I can’t listen to this ridiculous crap for one second longer. In fact … .”

  He didn’t get a chance to finish, because a hilarious – although I think she was trying to be menacing – figure appeared in the doorway.

  It was Margaret Little. I would recognize her anywhere. Back in Hemlock Cove she was Aunt Tillie’s nemesis. Here it appeared she was going to be Sandy’s grandfather … er, grandmother … er, I wasn’t quite sure which. Ultimately it didn’t matter. I knew we had to listen to that story for a reason, and the reason was standing right in front of us.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mrs. Little hissed. She looked demented, as if she’d stepped off a horror movie film reel or something. The only thing she was missing was a neon sign that declared her “batshit crazy” hovering above her head. “We’re not done here.”