Page 46 of All My Witches
“Really?” Thistle rolled her eyes. “What was your firstclue?”
WE STOPPEDFOR THE FIRSTfamiliar face we saw. Mrs. Gunderson, the owner of a Hemlock Cove bakery and Aunt Tillie’s former friend who now served as an occasional confidant, stood behind a game booth where players had to select floating ducks to win a prize. She beamed when she sawus.
“Do you fancy a try of yourluck?”
Landon slid a gaze to me. “I’m guessing this is part of theshow.”
“I guess.” I dug in my pocket and came up empty. “Does anyone have anymoney?”
Everyone fruitlessly searched their pockets and offered up a series of headshakes.
“I guess we can’t play,” I told Mrs. Gunderson. “I’msorry.”
“Oh, you don’t need money.” Mrs. Gunderson’s eyes gleamed. “You simply need the courage to pick aduck.”
“That doesn’t sound hard.” Clove reached toward the tank, but Thistle slapped her hand back, earning a whine and a glare for herefforts.
“Don’t,” Thistle warned. “This is Aunt Tillie’s game. There are consequences for everything we do. Nothing is as simple as picking a duck and getting something wewant.”
“She’s right,” Landon said. “We’re risking a lot by picking aduck.”
“What could we possibly risk?” Samqueried.
“I have no idea, but I wouldn’t put it past her to force us into a world without bacon or something if we pick the wrong duck,” Landon replied. “Or maybe she’ll find a way to separate us … or somethingworse.”
“So you don’t want to pick a duck?” Mrs. Gunderson was confused. “Why come to Witch Island if you don’t want to test yourluck?”
“That’s a good question,” I said. “What can you tell us about them?” I gestured toward the mud pits, making sure to keep my eyes from focusing. No one wanted to see what was going on over there. Okay, the guys kept sneaking looks when they thought no one was watching, but they didn’t openly stare oranything.
“Them?” Mrs. Gunderson arched an eyebrow. “They’redead.”
“Dead?”
Mrs. Gunderson nodded. “They all died tragic deaths and left their loved ones behind. Then they were forced to wait here until the scheduledreunions.”
Something about the story niggled the back of my brain, but I couldn’t quite remember where I’d heard itbefore.
“Is this heaven?” Landon asked, his eyes drifting to the mud pits of love. “If so, I can see wanting to spend your afterlife thatway.”
I shot him a dirtylook.
“What?” Landon held his hands palms up. “Tell me that your idea of heaven doesn’t involve you, me and one of those pits, with a waitress who brings us nonstop chocolate martinis andbacon.”
“It’s not a terrible way to spend our afterlife,” I conceded. “We’re not there yet,though.”
“And I’m thankful forthat.”
“We need to focus on the here andnow.”
“Iam.”
“Then stop leering like a pervert,” I ordered. “I need to ask Mrs. Gunderson some questions, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly watching you to make sure you don’t get an inadvertenteyeful.”
Instead of being offended, Landon barked out a laugh. “Fine. You have adeal.”
“Great.” I swiveled back to the game. “What do you mean they’redead?”
“They’re dead,” Mrs. Gunderson repeated. “One half of each super couple died in the real world and they were transportedhere.”
