wicked witches 08.6 - a witch in time (3 page)

“Aunt Tillie.”

I rolled to my side, taking a moment to wonder how I’d gotten into a reclining position given the fact that I’d fallen asleep on Landon’s lap. I figured he must have moved me to a couch in the waiting room without me waking, but once my vision cleared I instantly realized I wasn’t in the hospital. No, I was in a house.

“What’s going on?”

I glanced over my shoulder to find Landon rubbing his eyes from the armchair at the edge of the room. He was dressed in his jeans and T-shirt from earlier, the scrubs gone, and he looked exhausted. “Where are we?”

“What do you mean?” Landon asked, opening his eyes fully and scanning our surroundings. “Holy crap! Where are we?”

He has a wonderful way of stating the obvious question after I’ve already asked it. I tugged on my limited patience and pushed myself to a standing position, staring down at my own denim shorts and T-shirt with what can only be described as confusion. “Did you change my clothes when I was asleep?”

“Yes, Bay. I often take your unconscious form and pretend you’re a Barbie doll. I can’t help myself. I get my jollies in weird ways.” Landon’s face was a mask of confusion and irritation. I was in the same waterlogged boat, so I had no idea what he was griping about.

“You don’t have to take that tone with me,” I sniffed, rubbing my hands over my arms. “I’m … confused. I don’t understand how we got here. The last thing I remember is falling asleep on your lap. Wait … is Aunt Tillie okay?”

Landon opened his mouth to answer and then snapped it shut. He probably had something nasty to say and realized now wasn’t the appropriate time. Of course, I could’ve been projecting my own feelings on him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I think I fell asleep, too,” Landon said finally. “I remember watching Aunt Tillie. A few nurses came in to check on her and asked whether I wanted to move you to a bed in another room but I wanted to keep you with me. Then … I think I drifted off.”

That made absolutely no sense. “If that’s true … um … how did we end up here?”

“That’s a really good question,” Landon said, pushing himself to his feet and glancing around. “I don’t recognize this place.”

I didn’t recognize it either. There was something familiar about it, though. “But … no one could’ve moved both of us without waking us. So how did we get here?”

“Are you seriously asking me that question?” Landon challenged. “You’re the magical one. We’re probably trapped in a dream or something. Oh, crud! If we’re back in the fairy tale world I’m crawling under a blanket on that couch and hiding until the spell is over. I don’t care if bears try to throw me out.”

I wanted to tell him how preposterous the sentiment was, but since Aunt Tillie cursed us into a fairy tale book of her making a few months ago, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. “This doesn’t feel like the fairy tale book,” I said, running my hands over scratchy couch fabric. “In fact, this feels entirely different.”

“Well, that’s great, Bay,” Landon snapped. “It feels exactly the same to me.”

Landon is good under pressure. Well … for the most part. He didn’t take being trapped in a fairy tale world well, though, mostly because our worst personality traits worked against us the longer we were trapped in the book and he became more and more bossy. I was sure this was different, but it felt magical all the same.

“Please don’t yell at me,” I said quietly. “I know you’re upset, but … I didn’t do this.”

Landon tugged a restless hand through his black hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this isn’t your fault. Come here.”

I pressed my lips together, unsure whether I wanted to risk another outburst.

“Bay, I’m really sorry,” Landon said, his eyes soulful as they latched onto mine. “That was unfair. It’s just … I know this is some sort of spell gone wrong. I can see by the look on your face that you know it, too. This never ends well for me.”

“We don’t know what it is yet,” I clarified. “I … .”

“Don’t,” Landon said, wagging a finger in my face. “We both know it’s a spell. We’re not going to do that whole ‘is it a dream’ thing this time. We’re not sharing the same dream and we’re both sharing this experience. We have to figure out what it is and deal with it. If I know anything about your family, I can almost guarantee there’s going to be some sort of lesson wrapped around whatever is about to happen.”

I couldn’t argue with his assessment. There’s a reason he’s a decorated FBI agent. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Landon said, grabbing my arm and pulling me in for a hug. “You didn’t do this,” he said, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I’m not sure who did this because my only suspect is unconscious in a hospital right now, but it’s clearly magical.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to curl up in a ball on the couch and wait for the locusts to come,” Landon replied. “We’re not going to do that, though, because I have a feeling that won’t work. Just like the fairy tales, we’ll have to work our way through this. We just have to figure out what this is.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded, briefly resting my head against Landon’s chest and tightening my arms around his neck. “Are you angry with me because of this?”

Landon sighed, the sound long-suffering and tinged with agitation. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“This clearly has ties to my family.”

Landon tilted my chin up and locked his chocolate eyes with mine. “That doesn’t mean you did it,” he said. “I’m not angry. I’m … frustrated. I had plans for you this weekend, and going through another book of doom wasn’t on the top of my list.

“We can’t dwell on that now, though,” he continued. “We have to move forward and see where we are, and then figure out how to get out of here. We can’t do it alone. We have to work together. The good news is that it appears to be just you and me this time. There’s no Thistle hanging around to make things unbearable.”

Unfortunately, I could use a little bit of Thistle’s ingenuity about now. I kept that to myself. “I know I didn’t technically do this, but I’m really sorry.”

“Bay, I love you no matter what,” Landon said. “I know crap like this is part of my life now if I want you in it. I definitely want you in it, so you need to let go of the insecurity thing. It drives me crazy and it’s not going to help.”

I blew out a heavy sigh. “I love you, too.”

“I know you do,” Landon said, squeezing me. “You’re going to owe me the world’s best pot roast when this is over with, though. I don’t care if you have to bribe your mother, I want it served to me in bed – and you have to wear one of those sexy maid outfits.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Well, at least you’re back to being your feisty self,” Landon said, kissing the tip of my nose. “Okay, look around. Does any of this look familiar? What story is this from?”

“I don’t think it’s a story,” I answered, reluctantly pulling away from him so I could give the room a more thorough search. “It doesn’t look like any place I’ve ever been … and yet there’s something very familiar about it.”

“What does that mean?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, well, good,” Landon deadpanned. “So far this is exactly like the fairy tale world. I can’t wait to get turned into a beast again.”

“I thought you were a handsome beast.”

Landon’s expression softened, although only marginally. “Point taken,” he said. “Complaining won’t help, and I refuse to turn into a rampant tool because we’re trapped … somewhere … in magical La-La Land. What do you think we should do?”

He had to be joking. “You want me to make the decision? You’re the FBI agent. You should decide what we do.”

“Yes, but you’re my magical wonder,” Landon replied calmly. “You figured out almost every solution in the fairy tale world. I’m out of my depth here. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I should never doubt your intuition. What is it telling you to do now?”

That was a pretty good question. “Let’s look around.”

“Good idea,” Landon said, holding out his hand. “You’re not leaving my side, though. I don’t want to be separated from you in this world. Well, truthfully, I never want to be separated from you. That goes double for now, though.”

I couldn’t contain my chuckle. “Even now you know the exact right thing to say.”

“I think you’re exaggerating,” Landon said, squeezing my hand. “I’ve said six wrong things since we woke up here. You only remember the good stuff about me. That’s one of your gifts. It’s probably my favorite one.”

“I thought your favorite gift was when Aunt Tillie made me smell like bacon?”

“Well, that is a good one,” Landon conceded. “Okay, you’re right. The bacon wins. If she didn’t make you taste like bacon at the same time, your capacity for forgiveness would be my favorite. Bacon trumps it, though. I cannot lie.”

I shook my head. “At least you’re consistent.”

“Come on,” Landon said, tugging on my hand. “Let’s look around.”

We silently circled the room, Landon watching me as I picked up various trinkets and knickknacks. There was definitely something familiar about the room … and then it hit me. I turned quickly, my eyes landing on the cuckoo clock on the far wall. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?” Landon asked. “Is that a good ‘oh’? Like ‘Landon, don’t stop, oh’ or is that a bad ‘oh’? Like ‘oh, Landon, you’re going to be showering alone today?’”

“It’s like ‘oh, I think I know where we are,’” I replied.

“Oh, well, that’s good then,” Landon said. “Where are we?”

My answer was simple. “Home.”

When I was a little girl, I respected my elders. Now that I’m an elder, I spend all of my time with annoying little girls. Someone explain to me how this happened.

– Aunt Tillie when told she had to babysit

Three

^“
Whose home?” Landon wasn’t satisfied with my answer.

“Mine,” I replied. “Well, I mean it’s technically the old homestead. This isn’t quite the original settlement that was on our property, but it is the house my grandmother and Aunt Tillie lived in when they were younger, before it was turned into the Victorian and became a bed and breakfast, and way before the big expansion that led to it becoming The Overlook.”

“That was a mouthful,” Landon muttered, taking another look around the room and trying to put it into perspective given what stood in its place now. “This is the living room of the family quarters. Well, kind of. It’s bigger now, but I recognize the back wall. If we were standing in it now we’d be looking out at the patio.”

I nodded, relieved he saw the resemblance, too. “I knew it looked familiar,” I said. “I’ve seen it in old photographs. Aunt Tillie has a few framed in her bedroom.”

“I thought Aunt Tillie didn’t allow you in her bedroom?”

“That doesn’t mean we didn’t sneak in a time or two looking for wine as teenagers.”

Landon smirked. “Okay, so we’re at your house even though it’s not really your house,” he said, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “Did Aunt Tillie ever write any books set at the house?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You don’t think we’re trapped in a book, do you?”

I shook my head. I couldn’t explain what was happening, but it didn’t feel like a book. “I think this is something else,” I said. “Before you ask what that is, though, I have no idea. I’m not sure what this is.”

“Okay, well, let’s check out back,” Landon suggested. “Maybe we’ll run into a member of your family and they can explain what this is.”

“The only member of my family alive when this place was standing is Aunt Tillie.”

“Well, let’s find Aunt Tillie,” Landon said. “I can’t wait to shake some answers out of her.”

We exited the house through the back door, surreal feelings of nostalgia washing over me as I got a gander at the landscape. It was familiar, yet different all the same. The trees were a lot thicker and the patio and Aunt Tillie’s beloved gardens didn’t yet exist. It was still beautiful.

“Look at this place,” I said, running my hand over the wooden siding. “It’s like … olden times.”

Landon snickered. “I love that you still have the ability to be amazed about the things your family does,” he said. “It is neat to see. If I thought there wasn’t a chance we would be trapped here forever, I would take the time to look around.”

“You’re right,” I said, flashing him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I just … .” I broke off, tilting my head to the side when the sound of laughter filled my ears. I watched as two girls – they couldn’t have been older than eight or nine – crested the hill on the south side of the property. They were clad in modest dresses and they were laughing.

One of the girls had long dark hair that was tied in pigtails .The other had flowing reddish hair – almost more of a strawberry blond – and it streamed behind her as she ran and giggled.

“Who are they?” Landon asked.

I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

The girls pulled up short when they saw us, the redhead giving us a wide berth as the brunette boldly took a step in our direction.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Landon challenged.

“Tillie, we’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” the red-headed girl said. It was supposed to be a whisper but her voice carried.

“Tillie?” I said, narrowing my eyes. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“How do you know my name?” the brunette asked. “Are you evil? Is that how you know it? We kick evil in its naughty place around this house.”

“Yup. That’s her,” Landon said, shaking his head. “Oh, my … .”

“Goddess,” I finished for him, dumbfounded. “Are you really Tillie Winchester?” It seemed a stupid question given where we stood, but I couldn’t wrap my head around what I saw. There were only a handful of photos of Aunt Tillie as a young girl, and she protected them with everything she had. She kept them away from us when we were young and had “jam hands” as she called them. Then, as teenagers, we lost interest. Still, this was … amazing.

“I am Tillie Winchester,” the girl said, puffing out her chest. “Have you heard of me? Everyone around here has heard of me.”