Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (21 page)

“Fine,” Thistle grumbled.

The hallway was silent as we made our way down it. Once we got to the stairs, Thistle paused. “Remember, the third step squeaks.”

We had found that out the hard way when we were sneaking out as teenagers. Aunt Tillie hadn’t thought we were so funny that night. She’d taken to locking us in our rooms for an entire week with a spell. Thistle had tried to get around the spell by climbing out the window, but since it was the second story, that had ended with a broken leg. We were a lot more careful after that.

When we got to the main floor, Thistle listened at the kitchen door for a minute and then shook her head. “I can hear Aunt Tillie snoring in her chair,” she whispered.

We all tiptoed to the front foyer, although I did cast a glance into the library to see if Landon was sleeping. I couldn’t hear anything, but his back was turned to us and he wasn’t moving. That was probably good. I didn’t want to explain what we were doing.

Once we got to the foyer, Clove moved to turn on the light – but Thistle stopped her. “They’ll see the light,” she argued. “It might wake Landon up.”

“So? What does he care?”

“Do you want to explain to him what we’re doing?” I asked.

“I don’t care,” Clove shrugged. “It was your idea.”

“Well, I don’t want to explain that we’re looking for dirt on an old couple,” I grumbled.

“Because now you realize you’re crazy,” Clove said knowingly.

“Let’s just look at the records and be done with it,” Thistle sniped.

We followed her behind the desk and watched as she lit the oil lamp on the counter with a snap of her fingers. Thistle reached under the counter and pulled out the big ledger. She flipped a few pages and then turned to me. “They’re in room six.”

I pulled out the expandable file folder that my mom and aunts used for current guests and found the folder for room six. I pulled out the papers from inside and studied them under the dim light for a second. Thistle glanced over my shoulder. “Thomas Baker of Grand Rapids, Michigan,” she read. “Looks like you were wrong.”

“I guess so,” I agreed. “At least we know.”

“I already knew,” Clove said disdainfully.

“You know everything,” Thistle said haughtily.

“What are you three doing?”

We all jumped when we saw Landon standing in the doorway. He was a mix of sleep and confusion.

“Nothing,” I said hurriedly.

“Nothing? You’re sneaking around and looking at inn records in the middle of the night for nothing?”

“Bay thought the old couple was suspicious,” Clove said quickly. “We were just making sure all their financial records were right.”

Thistle elbowed Clove hard.

“I am the snitch,” Clove sighed. “I’m always the snitch.”

Landon looked confused. “You thought the old couple was suspicious?”

“Not suspicious,” I corrected him. “I just thought it was weird that they showed up right before the Canadian couple disappeared.”

Realization dawned on Landon’s face. “You thought they were the Canadian couple?”

I shrugged.

“What did the records say?” Landon looked interested, despite himself.

“Tom and Lenore Baker from Grand Rapids,” I sighed. “Just like they said.”

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” Landon said gently. “Now we know.”

“Now you know what?”

All four of us froze at the sound of Aunt Tillie’s voice.

“I thought you said she was sleeping?” I hissed.

“She was snoring,” Thistle countered.

“I can hear the sounds of evil-doers in my sleep,” Aunt Tillie said. “Now, what are you all doing?”

There was no way I was going to tell her that we were sneaking around being suspicious of her guests. Thistle obviously read my mind because she clamped her hand over Clove’s wrist to keep her quiet.

“I was just sneaking around to see Landon,” I said finally.

Landon looked surprised, but he didn’t contradict me.

“And you brought Clove and Thistle with you?”

“They thought I needed a chaperone,” I said sheepishly.

“They’re probably right,” Aunt Tillie said. I couldn’t meet her searching gaze out of guilt. “You always were the easy one.”

“The easy one?” I protested. “That’s unfair.”

“Weren’t you the one suspended for making out with the quarterback in the nurse’s office when you were in high school?”

I had forgotten about that.

“Weren’t you also the one that I caught in the Miller’s barn with their youngest boy when you were fifteen?”

“That’s not fair,” I countered. “I really did go in there to look at the kittens.”

“Only Bobby Miller got to see the . . . full cat,” Thistle said with a laugh.

Landon smirked in my direction. “Are you saying you were the town slut?”

Aunt Tillie rounded on him angrily. “She’s not a slut,” she argued. “She was just sexually curious. It got her into a lot of trouble when she was younger. I had hoped she’d grown out of it.”

“I have,” I said lamely.

“Obviously not.”

Aunt Tillie turned to the three of us. “Do you need me to walk you back to your room?”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said stiffly as we moved past her and started climbing the steps that led back to our room.

“See, you got us in trouble,” Clove hissed.

I could hear Landon laughing behind us. “What are you laughing at? Do you need me to walk you back to your couch?”

“No ma’am.”

Once we were back in our room, I changed into the proffered pajamas and  then tiptoed back to the door.

“Where are you going?” Thistle asked.

“I just want to say goodnight to Landon,” I said innocently.

I opened the door and then pulled back in surprise. Aunt Tillie was sitting in a wood chair in the hallway – and she had a shot gun on her lap. “What the hell?”

“I’m saving you from yourself,” she said tiredly. “Now go to bed.”

I shut the door behind me and turned to Thistle and Clove. “I’m an adult, for crying out loud.”

“Not to her.”

I climbed into one of the beds and pulled the covers over my head irritably. I could feel Clove slide in next to me. “This is not how I saw this night going,” I said finally.

“I don’t think anyone saw the night going this way,” Thistle grumbled from the other bed. “Don’t you think I’d rather be cuddled up with Marcus and a good book?”

“A book?” Clove scoffed.

“A book, a marathon of
The Walking Dead
, I’d be fine with either.”

“Go to sleep,” I muttered. “The sooner we go to sleep the sooner we can get up and go back home.”

Clove giggled. “You go to sleep first. You’re the one keeping us up.”

“If you don’t all go to sleep right now I’m going to separate you,” Aunt Tillie yelled from the hallway. “I’ll make you go sleep with your mothers.”

“See,” Clove whispered. “You two always get me in trouble.”

“And you always tell on us,” Thistle shot back.

“I said, go to sleep!”

“Yes, Aunt Tillie,” we all sang in unison and then dissolved into giggles. It was like we were teenagers again.

“Wake up!”

Aunt Tillie’s face swam into view, inches from my own. “Gah!” I rolled away from her instinctively and fell off the left side of the bed I had, just seconds before, been slumbering in.

From my spot on the floor, I glanced up at the other bed to see Thistle wearily rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she regarded Aunt Tillie suspiciously. “What is your deal?”

“It’s 7:30 a.m., it’s time to get up,” Aunt Tillie said primly. “You’re sleeping your lives away.”

“It’s a snow day,” Clove grumbled from the other side of the bed I had just been sleeping in. “You don’t have to get up early on a snow day.”

Aunt Tillie walked around the bed and yanked the covers off Clove irritably. “I said, get up.”

“Why are you being so mean?” Clove whined.

“That’s what keeps her alive,” Thistle grumbled. “She’s nourished by the pain she inflicts on others.”

“It’s like
The Addams Family
motto,” I grumbled.

“What is?” Clove asked in confusion. None of us are exactly sharp in the morning.

“Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc,” I enunciated slowly, trying to pull the memory from my brain.

Thistle giggled from her own bed. “I forgot,” she said. “We were obsessed with that for a few months when we were in middle school. We were convinced that Aunt Tillie was the real life inspiration for
The Addams Family
.”

Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes at Thistle. “What does it mean?”

“Look it up,” Thistle replied harshly.

Aunt Tillie swung around, hands on hips, and pursed her lips at me. “What does that mean?”

I didn’t try to hide my smirk. Thistle, Clove and I had went through a faze as kids where we talked in Latin so Aunt Tillie wouldn’t be able to know what we were talking about. Unfortunately, we were as lazy as we were ingenious – we’d given up learning actual Latin after two weeks and started speaking pig Latin instead. It wasn’t quite as effective.

Aunt Tillie smacked the top of my head. “What does it mean?”

“It’s nothing bad,” I groaned and climbed to my feet. “Why are you always so suspicious?”

“If it was nothing bad, you would tell me what it means,” Aunt Tillie countered.

“We will gladly feast on those that try to subdue us,” I bit out in aggravation.

“What does that mean?” Aunt Tillie’s face was starting to redden. I couldn’t decide if it was the wine she’d been sipping in the hall before she fell asleep last night or the morning exertion of trying to wrangle the three of us into a wakeful state that was getting to her. I had a feeling it was a combination of the both.

“That’s
The Addams Family
motto,” I said blithely. “We will gladly feast on those that try to subdue us.”

Aunt Tillie rolled the words through her mind for a second and then smiled. “I like it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied.

“Get ready for breakfast,” Aunt Tillie turned on her heel. “Your mothers have gone all out because we’re housebound.”

“How much snow did we get?” Clove asked.

“More than a foot and less than two feet,” Aunt Tillie said.

“Are you going to plow?”

“Eventually,” Aunt Tillie said. “I have to be able to get out to the plow before that can happen.” Aunt Tillie paused at the door. “I have the boys working on clearing the snow.”

“That’s good,” I said distractedly. “Wait a second, what guys?”

Aunt Tillie didn’t answer. Instead, she just left the bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind her as she did.

I turned to Thistle, worry etched on my brow. “What guys?”

“What guys do you think? Landon, Brian and Trevor for sure,” she said, pulling on her jeans tiredly. She looked relieved when they easily buttoned. “I’m sure Sludge and that other hipster are probably helping, too.”

“What is that kid’s name? The other kid?”

“I don’t know,” Thistle shrugged. “I’m just going to start calling him Toxic Waste.”

“That sounds like fun,” I said.

We all dressed quickly, with Thistle and I forgoing makeup while Clove applied enough to make it look like she hadn’t just woken up. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thistle said.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Clove shot back. “You think I’m putting makeup on for Trevor.”

“You’re not putting it on for us,” I said.

“I wish you guys would stop being mean to me,” Clove said.

“We’re not being mean to you,” Thistle challenged.

“You get more and more like Aunt Tillie every day,” Clove taunted.

“You take that back,” Thistle said, reaching for Clove.

Clove sidestepped her easily and flopped over the corner of the bed and lunged out the bedroom door. Thistle raced after her. “You take it back!”

I followed them downstairs, following the sound of Thistle’s raised voice and Clove’s hysterical giggles as she tried to evade her. When I made it to the main foyer, I found Thistle on top of Clove poking her in the chest.

“Take it back.”

“No.”

“Take it back.”

“Ow! Stop doing that!”

“Take it back!”

I watched the scene with mild interest. Clove was probably stronger than Thistle, but Thistle was definitely meaner than Clove. Thistle would undoubtedly win. That, of course, would prove that she actually was like Aunt Tillie – but I wisely stopped myself from saying those thoughts aloud.

“What’s going on?”

Landon moved in behind me. I noticed his face was flushed from physical exertion and cold. He pulled his hands out of the work gloves he had been wearing and pressed them to the exposed flesh of my neck. I jumped in surprise.