Page 69 of All My Witches
Michael Ferrigno, his eyes full of fury, sat astride the bike, and he looked anything buthappy.
“Oh, well, I guess I should’ve realized he was coming back,” Landon muttered. “It was too good to be true without him. If he pinches your butt, I’m totally going to slap himsilly.”
I snickered as I released his hand. “It will be okay.” I focused on Michael. “How arethings?”
“Really? That’s what you want to ask me?” Michael’s anger was so strong it almost knocked me over. “You divorcedme!”
“I heard. That must have been … rough … foryou.”
“Rough? You pledged to love and honor me for the rest of our lives,” Michael seethed. “That didn’t happen. You leftme.”
“I’m sure you had it coming,” Landon saiddryly.
“No one is talking to you, turncoat!” Michael snapped. “You’re the reason for all of this. You’re the reason I lost her. You’re the reason I lost the diamond. It’s you. You did this to me.” He pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed it atLandon.
I moved to slide in front of Landon, but he was having none ofit.
“Don’t even think about it,” Landonwarned.
“Landon … .”
I jolted at the sound of the gunshot. It happened so fast … so, so fast. I widened my eyes as I searched Landon’s face, but he didn’t grimace or clutch at his chest. After what felt like forever – in real time it was probably only three seconds – I turned to look at the rest of the weddingguests.
Michael had been shot. He clutched at his chest and made a big show of dying. Of course, he was playing it to the extreme – there were silent movie stars who overacted less – but when he finally went down to his knees and I recognized the fake blood swimming through his fingers, I understood that someone else had fired theshot.
“I will haunt you to your dying day,” Michaelrasped.
“I’m sure that will be terrible,” I said, moving my eyes to the balcony that overlooked the nave. Aunt Tillie stood there, wearing a white dress that was even gaudier than the one she’d picked out for me. The gun boasted a wisp of overdramatized smoke, and her eyes werepredatory.
“There she is!” Clove stated the obvious as she stomped herfoot.
“There she is,” Thistle agreed, her face twisting into an evil grimace. “Gether!”
WE GAVE CHASE.
What else could we do? Michael wasn’t real, and even though he was clearly dragging out his death scene, it wasn’t as if we cared about his fate. Aunt Tillie, on the other hand, was in control of our fates. We needed to find her – and we needed to do itnow.
We opted for the back hallway of the church, figuring she would have to descend the stairs. She probably realized we were waiting, though, because she didn’t do as we initially envisioned. Instead, she crouched at the top and peered around the upstairs wall, giving herself a clear view ofus.
“I had no choice,” Aunt Tillie announced. “I did what I had todo.”
“You act as if we care about what you did to Michael,” Thistle called out. “Although … he was your son on this show. Why did you shoothim?”
“He wasn’t my son. My son died long ago. His father – the devil incarnate – had his brain transplanted into Michael’s body. He thought I wouldn’t notice, but he had no idea who he was dealingwith.”
Aunt Tillie fired a shot into the ceiling, causing me to drop lower as Landon covered myhead.
“Why is the brain transplant story back?” Landon complained. “That was the dumbestone.”
“Really?” Thistle drawled. “I thought Chief Terry as a vampire was the top of the lameheap.”
“That one was just funny.” Landon knit his eyebrows as he watched me struggle with the back of my dress. “What are you doing,sweetie?”
“I need to get thisoff.”
“Why? I already said you’re beautiful init.”
“Yes, and that was a lovely sentiment. It itches, though. Kind of like I have ants in mypants.”
