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

“Don’t you have someplace else to be?” Thistle shot back. “No one was talking to you.”

“I’ll do it,” Clove volunteered.

“I hate all of you.” Thistle made a disgusted face as she focused on the trio of Aunt Tillies. “What’s this? Are we back to science fiction? Is Aunt Tillie cloning herself?”

That was a very good question. “I don’t think so. I think it’s supposed to be a take on twins or dual roles.”

“Oh, so she’s triplets instead of twins because Aunt Tillie has to beat everyone,” Thistle mused. “That makes sense.”

“You have no idea the power you’re messing with,” Aunt Tillie’s Alexis Kane persona uttered dramatically. “We’re stronger than you.”

“You’re … something,” I agreed. “We still want to go home.”

“The story isn’t done.”

“It is for us.”

“And yet it’s not.” Aunt Tillie’s smile was bright. “I don’t believe I’ve gotten the chance to introduce my sisters. This is Nikki Forrester and Marlena Bauer. They’re my more evil and most evil twins.”

“Oh.” Realization dawned. “We really should’ve seen that coming.”

“Wait … more evil and most evil?” Landon was understandably confused. “How does that work?”

“One does the work of the more evil me and the other does the work of the most evil me.”

“So you’re evil,” Thistle said, pointing. “She’s more evil and that one is the most evil?”

Aunt Tillie nodded.

“Oh, that’s somehow diabolically spot on,” Thistle said. “That’s so … her.”

“I want a more evil twin,” Clove complained. “That would really help when there’s housework to be done.”

I ignored her. “Aunt Tillie, where do you think you’re going?” I challenged. “We’re here. We can see you. We won’t allow you to escape again.”

“That’s right,” Thistle enthused. “We want to go home, and we want to do it right now.”

“Oh, but the story isn’t over.” Aunt Tillie’s eyes gleamed as she took a backward step toward the cabin. We’re nowhere near done.”

“Where are you going?” Alarmed, I strode forward. The two twins moved into my path, blocking Aunt Tillie from view as she opened the cottage door.

“If she goes inside we’ll lose her until we hit another scene,” Landon warned.

“It’s too late,” I said. “We can’t get to her in time.”

“We have to try.” Landon gripped my hand and broke into a run, dragging me forward. The evil twins tried to stop us, but Landon easily evaded them with a spin move straight off a football field.

“I think we pinned down why he’s the leading man,” Sam said, his chest heaving as he struggled to keep up. “That was a nice move, man.”

Landon was grim. “I do my best.” He shoved open the door and pushed his way inside, revealing an entirely new atmosphere. “Oh, I just knew it!”

We definitely weren’t out of the woods yet. The new set was something else entirely.

“Oh, this doesn’t look good,” Thistle complained. “She’s just messing with us now. There can be no other explanation.”





How can you solve a crime shirtless? What kind of cop goes to a scene shirtless? Why is that dude always shirtless? If your answer is ‘because he’s hot,’ I think we’re going to have to break up. This is not proper crime scene etiquette.

– Landon trying to understand soap opera crime-solving techniques





Fourteen





“Where are we now?”

Landon looked over his shoulder to see if the cottage remained, but it was gone, replaced by a dark and grimy alley wall. Er, well, rather the sort of wall a soap opera pretended was dark and grimy. Alleys and docks, overall dark locations, never looked as they should in the real world when translated for the small soap screen. Apparently soap lovers could only accept so much grit.

“I’m guessing we’re in an alley,” Clove offered sagely.

Landon offered a withering expression. “Really? I never would’ve figured that out myself. Thank you so much for deducing that, Clove.”

“You’re welcome.”

I grabbed Landon’s arm and dragged him to the right, pointing toward a clothesline stretching across the back corner as I attempted to distract him. Several items of clothing hung from it, and because Landon remained shirtless I figured he might want to cover up.

“Good eye, sweetie.” Landon grabbed the nearest shirt. It was purple and silky. He looked a bit like a gigolo when he shrugged into it, but he seemed so relieved to cover his chest that I opted not to comment on the color – or texture – or the ridiculous flare of the collar. Thistle was another story entirely.

“You look like a total tool.”

Landon scowled. “I didn’t pick out the shirt. It’s not as if I have many options.”

“Is that silk?” Sam stroked Landon’s chest, earning a glare for his efforts. “It’s … nice.”

“He looks like a pimp,” Thistle argued.

Landon shifted his eyes to me. “What do you think?”

I wasn’t sure what to think. “I don’t know.” I ran my hand over his chest, resting it on top of his heart and smiling. “The color is nice on you. The silk is a bit much. I actually prefer the bare chest, but I can tell you’re starting to feel self-conscious. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Landon rested his hand on top of mine, keeping it where it was so I could feel the steady beat of his heart. “I like being shirtless just fine … when it’s you and me alone. Solving crimes and fighting enemies shirtless is just … not how I work.”

“It’s how soap Landon works.”

“Yes, well, I think Jericho is a moron.” Landon took me by surprise when he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “How are you holding up? We didn’t get a chance to talk about what happened while we were separated.”

“Nothing much happened on our end. We talked to that loser Hutch. We went to the waterfall. We found a footprint. We went to the cabin. That’s it.”

“That’s not nearly as bad as I imagined.” Landon swayed back and forth, his arms loose around me, the motion somehow soothing. “I was worried about you.”

“Funnily enough, I wasn’t worried about you. I knew you’d be okay.”

“Lila tried to kiss me. That’s pretty far from okay.”

“Yet you survived. We’re together again.” I pressed the side of my head to his chest and briefly shut my eyes. “I’m tired. I know we’re really in our bed at The Overlook, sleeping, but I’m tired all the same.”

“That’s because this is a busy world.” Landon stroked my hair. “How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

“Until we reach the end of the story.”

“And there’s no hope for reprieve, right? She won’t let us off early for good behavior, will she?”

I chuckled, amused. “Have you ever known Aunt Tillie to give up before she gets the outcome she wants?”

“No, but … I guess I was trying to delude myself that we would be out of this soon.”

“I don’t believe we have terribly long left here, but I also don’t think we’re close to being done yet. She built a continuous story. You know darned well she’ll be the star when we get to the end.”

“Yeah, I think we all know that.” Landon kissed the corner of my mouth and then released me. “Let’s see what fresh hell she’s stirred up for us next, huh?”

I nodded and turned back, pursing my lips when I saw Thistle’s glare. “What?”

“I can’t believe you guys are the leading couple,” Thistle complained. “Clove was right. You’re boring. That thing you guys just did? Yeah, it was boring.”

I heaved out a sigh. “I’m more than willing to cede my leading lady title if it means Marcus will be the one getting slapped around from here on out. Maybe he’ll have his shirt ripped off for a change. How does that sound?”

“I’m fine with it,” Thistle replied. “Marcus looks smoking hot without a shirt.”

“Are you saying Landon doesn’t?”

Thistle shrugged. “I just happen to think Marcus looks better … and I’ve seen both of them thanks to this little trip.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “I’m pretty sure Landon looks better without his shirt on.”

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