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

“Let’s hope this really is the end,” Sam said. “I can’t take much more of this.”

“None of us can,” Landon said. “Trust me. The last thing I wanted to see was this crazy chick.” He gestured toward Eden. “But we’re here. If we work together, we’ll get home. We need to believe in that and refrain from fighting from here on out.”

“That sounds like absolutely no fun,” Thistle complained. “In fact … .” She didn’t get a chance to finish what she was saying because Eden picked that moment to lash out and smack Landon across the face.

He wasn’t expecting it, so he rocked back on his heels, instinctively reaching up to touch the spot where she’d struck him. “What the … ?”

“That’s for moving on when you should’ve been pining for me,” Eden announced.

“Yeah, I’m done here.” Landon’s frustration was so strong it practically slapped me across the face. “We need to end this.”

“I think you’re going to get your wish,” Nikki said, lifting her hand and pointing toward the cabin. “There she is.”

I jerked my gaze to where she pointed, my heart leaping at the sight of Aunt Tillie. She stood in a slinky black gown and held what looked to be a large diamond in her hand. She smiled as she scanned faces, evil delight flitting through her eyes.

“I see you’ve come to stop me,” she announced. “I won’t go quietly.”

“Oh, we don’t want you to go quietly,” Thistle snapped. “We want you to scream, yell and cry.” She moved toward Aunt Tillie. “We want you to beg.”

“Then come and get me.” Aunt Tillie turned and ran, showing a bolt of speed that shouldn’t have been possible given her age.

Thistle moved to give chase, along with Eden, who was quick to follow, but I grabbed Thistle’s arm and held her back.

“What are you doing?” Thistle sputtered. “We have to catch her.”

“That’s not her.”

“Yes, it is. You saw her. She had the diamond.”

“That’s not her.” I looked to Nikki for confirmation. “That’s Marlena Bauer. That’s the most evil corner of the triangle.”

“How can you be sure?” Landon asked.

“Because that’s Aunt Tillie.” I inclined my chin to the front door, to where the Aunt Tillie we recognized from the real world stepped through the door. She wore camouflage pants, a combat helmet and carried what looked to be a ray gun of some sort.

“That is her,” Landon said, pursing his lips. “She used the other woman as a decoy.”

“So what do we do?” Clove asked. “I mean … do we chase her?”

“That’s not necessary,” Thistle announced, putting her head down as she headed in Aunt Tillie’s direction. “I’ve got this.”

“Wait!”

It was too late. Thistle was determined. She wasn’t about to give up until she had Aunt Tillie in her clutches.

“Should we follow?” Landon asked, deferring to me.

I had no idea how. “I guess so. I mean … I don’t know what else to do.”

So that’s what we did. We chased after Aunt Tillie, who made a big show of running around the cabin while trying not to get too far ahead or make any sudden moves that might allow her to escape. She didn’t drop the ray gun until Thistle launched herself at Aunt Tillie’s diminutive form.

The two bodies hit with a loud thud. Aunt Tillie was solid, but Thistle was fueled by ultimate rage. Aunt Tillie conveniently landed in a huge pile of snow. Thankfully there was no shark to go with it. When she hit, her breath was knocked out of her lungs and Thistle had an easy time rolling her onto her back.

Thistle straddled Aunt Tillie, holding her arms to the ground and slamming her butt down to keep Aunt Tillie pinned every time our elderly great-aunt tried to buck her.

“Knock it off!” Thistle ordered, her tone authoritative. “It’s time to go home.”

Aunt Tillie snorted. She didn’t look particularly perturbed about being caught. “Not yet.”

“It’s time,” Thistle said. “We’re done. We don’t want to stay.”

“The story isn’t done yet,” Aunt Tillie argued.

“We caught you before you made snow sharks a reality,” Thistle challenged. “The story is done.”

“Of course it’s not.”

“But … .” Thistle was helpless when she turned to me. “You said this was the end.”

Apparently I’d miscalculated. “What else is there left to do?”

“Why, I have to face trial, of course.” Aunt Tillie beamed. “I need my day in court.”

Oh, well, crap! I definitely should’ve seen that coming. If there’s one thing Aunt Tillie loves more than soaps, it’s old Matlock episodes.

“Is she saying what I think she’s saying?” Landon asked.

I nodded, my stomach twisting.

“Well, that’s just great.” Landon glared at Aunt Tillie. “I hope you know you’re on my list.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you do with that, Sparky.” Aunt Tillie happily wiggled her hips. “I can’t wait to get on the witness stand. It’ll be epic.”

Something told me it was going to be something other than epic.





This show keeps making a big deal about multiple personalities, but I feel like I have them every month during PMS. It’s not a big deal. Take some Midol and grab a heating pad, and you’ll be fine in three hours.

– Bay on soap opera mental health





Nineteen





“I’m so tired.”

The trip the courthouse was short. The soap opera authorities – who looked as if they couldn’t keep a cardboard box safe, let alone contain Aunt Tillie – collected her by the door and whisked her to whatever holding cell they kept in the back. She shot me a triumphant look as she walked away, as if this was always what she wanted.

That made me inexplicably nervous.

“Come here.” Landon sat on a courtroom bench and lifted his arm so I could skirt underneath it. “What hurts?”

The question caught me off guard. “Is something supposed to hurt?”

“I mean your neck and shoulders.”

“Oh. My shoulders. This doesn’t count as part of the massage you owe me.”

“Of course not.” Landon dug his fingers into the sore spot between my shoulder blades, eliciting a moan for his efforts. “See, why would I want to cut down on that noise in the future?”

I offered up a rueful look. “You’re kind of a pervert.”

“I’m just trying to look forward to finally getting out of here.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Sorry about what?”

“I thought the scene at the cottage was the end. Apparently I was wrong.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t be right all of the time.” Landon pressed a kiss to the back of my head and then continued rubbing. “What do you think she’s going to do now?”

“I think she wants to get on the witness stand and do a Jack Nicholson.”

Landon furrowed his brow. “You mean from A Few Good Men?”

“Pretty much. She’s always loved that scene. This is her chance to do her version of it.”

“That’s a terrifying thought.” Landon rolled his neck until it cracked. “Do you think that will be the end?”

“I hope so.”

“But do you think it will be?”

“I thought the cabin would be the end, so what do I know?”

Landon heaved out a sigh and pulled me in for a hug. “We’re close. It won’t be long now. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, I’m almost looking forward to the hangover I’m going to have when I wake up.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve learned my lesson about drinking in a house with that woman,” Landon said. “From now on when we get rip-roaring drunk and decide to dance, it’s going to be under our own roof. Oh, and we’ll be naked when it happens.”

I might’ve been exhausted, but I was genuinely amused at the way his mind worked. “Good plan.”

“Thank you.”

We lapsed into comfortable silence, Marcus and Thistle paired off to the left and Clove and Sam to the right. As if tied together, we jerked our heads to the back of the courtroom at the sound of footsteps. I could only sigh when I saw the well-dressed woman in the smart business suit heading in our direction.

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