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

“Now why would I want to do that?” Aunt Tillie tilted her head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun as causing you to suffer.”

Something occurred to me and I leaned forward. I had an idea. It might not work, of course, but if it did we might be able to go through the rest of the story on fast forward. That’s what we all wanted. Well, except for Aunt Tillie.

Still, if I gave her the proper opening she’d most likely take advantage of it.

“We simply want you to tell the truth, Aunt Tillie.” I fought to contain my smirk when I saw the keen light enter her eyes. “I want the truth!” I yelled, gathering my courage. That was all it took to spur her to action.

“You can’t handle the truth!” Aunt Tillie barked, hopping to her feet.

“And here we go.” Landon smacked his hand to his forehead. “You knew exactly how to bait her.”

“I did.”

“That must be why you’re the leading lady,” Thistle groused, crossing her arms over her chest as she threw herself on the wooden bench. “I hate this world. I want to go home.”

“We just have to listen to a speech first.” I gestured toward Aunt Tillie. “Hit it.”

Aunt Tillie ignored my sarcasm and strolled to the center of the courtroom so she’d be certain to be the center of attention.

“I’m going to tell you the truth,” she announced. “I’m going to say it, and you’re going to have no choice but to believe it.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Landon asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Who knows.”

“I’m considering taking a nap.”

I grinned. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Wake me when it’s over.” Landon leaned back and closed his eyes, something I’m sure irritated Aunt Tillie to no end. She refused to acknowledge his attitude, though. She had the floor, and there was no way she was going to cede it.

“The truth is, I’m better than all of you.” Aunt Tillie added a bit of swish to her hips as she stalked back and forth in front of the wooden bench where we sat. “I’m better than you.” She pointed at Sam. “I’m better than you.” She pointed at Thistle. “I’m definitely better than you.” She used her middle finger to point at Aunt Willa. “I am the queen of the world, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Oh, this is such crap,” Thistle complained loud enough to draw Aunt Tillie’s attention. “Is this really what you’ve been building toward all night? This is what you want? You want to take the stage in front of all of us and force us to listen to your crap?”

“That’s exactly what I want.”

“Well, fine.” Thistle threw up her hands. “Have at it. But remember, however long you make us sit here, I’m going to make you do something you hate for twice as long. I don’t know what that is yet, but I’ll make it my life’s mission to terrorize you. That’s my solemn vow.”

Aunt Tillie snorted. “Yes, that was terrifying.”

“Let her finish her speech,” Clove ordered. “She won’t let us escape until she gets what she wants. I don’t know about you, but all I care about is getting out of here.”

“That’s like letting her win, though,” Thistle complained. “I don’t want to let her win.”

“She’s already won,” I pointed out. “We’re at the end. She’s going to get to make her speech no matter what. We have to let her do it.”

“But … .” Thistle wasn’t one to give up. Conceding went against her very nature.

“We have no choice,” Landon said. “Let her get whatever she wants to off her chest. The sooner she does, the sooner we’ll wake up in our own beds … er, at least the inn’s beds.”

“Fine.” Thistle was furious, but she did as instructed. “I’m going to make you pay, old lady. Just remember that.”

Aunt Tillie wasn’t bothered. “Now, where was I?”

“You’re better than everyone,” Aunt Willa prodded.

“Thank you, Ms. Doodyhead.” Aunt Tillie beamed. “So, that’s right. I’m better than everyone. I’m smarter than everyone. Whenever you think you’re smarter than me, you should know it’s not true. It can’t be true, because I’m clearly smarter than you. Heck, I’m smarter than all of you combined.”

Her voice turned to a drone as I rested my head against Landon’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”

“Go to sleep, sweetie. It will be morning soon.”

“Don’t we have to listen?” My eyes felt ridiculously heavy.

“And not only am I smarter than all of you, I dress better, too,” Aunt Tillie added. “I should have my own fashion line I’m such a snazzy dresser. No, really, I could totally be a fashion designer professionally.”

“I think we’ve already heard everything we need to hear.” Landon wrapped his arm around me. “Go to sleep, Bay. We’re almost home.”

I realized the second I closed my eyes that he was right, the tug to slip under so strong I couldn’t fight it. So I didn’t. I pressed my eyes shut, exhaled heavily and slid into sleep … and thus ensured my escape.





Love in the afternoon? Pfft. I would rather have a nap in the afternoon.

– Thistle makes her disdain of soap operas obvious





Twenty





I bolted to a sitting position in the dark, Aunt Tillie’s voice still droning on and on … and on and on and on … in the back of my head. Something about “being young, restless, bold, beautiful and enjoying the days of our lives because we only have one life to live.”

Yeah, she’s not exactly subtle.

“Landon?” I reached out instinctively, hating how dry my throat was as I tried to get my bearings.

“I’m here.” Landon sounded as rough as I felt.

I turned to look at him. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon through the window. He rested on his back, his hand on his forehead. His shirt was off, which seemed somehow poetic given where we’d spent our night. I couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

“Other than the world’s worst case of cotton mouth and what I’m sure will grow into a raging headache tomorrow, I’m okay.”

Landon grunted as he forced himself to a sitting position. “I could use some water. I’ll grab us a few bottles from the refrigerator.”

“You’re going downstairs?”

“I won’t be gone long.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and headed for the door. I was thankful to see he was wearing boxer shorts, because in his current mental state there was a real possibility he wouldn’t remember to check.

Once he disappeared into the quiet hallway, I slid my legs from beneath the covers and walked to the window. Thanks to the fresh snow – and there was a lot of it – the night seemed somehow brighter even though we were still hours from dawn.

That’s where Landon found me when he returned five minutes later. He had four bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“Are you okay?” He left the water and aspirin on the nightstand as he shuffled behind me, sliding his arm around my waist.

“I’m fine.” I leaned against him. “So, it turns out all we had to do to escape was fall asleep.”

“Now I’m betting you wish we’d stayed in bed when we first woke in that gaudy mansion.”

That seemed like a lifetime ago. “Please don’t remind me of that. If it had been that easy … .”

“I don’t think it would’ve been that easy.” Landon moved my hair from my shoulder so he could rest his chin there. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem … off.”

“Honestly? I was looking for snow sharks.”

Landon chuckled. “Anything?”

“It just looks like a mountain of snow.”

Landon moved his gaze to the ground outside. “That’s a lot of white stuff.”

“And I’ll bet it’s colder than what we found when we visited that last cabin in the soap opera world.”

“Probably. That only means it will be a fun day when we hike back to the guesthouse – and we’re doing that right after breakfast, by the way – so we can start a fire and cuddle in front of the television the entire afternoon.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

Landon nodded. “Yup. You, me, hot chocolate and Netflix.”

“I could get behind that.”

Landon grinned. “Just no soap operas … or bad science fiction movies … or A Few Good Men.”

“You don’t have to worry about that one little bit.”

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