Page 91 of Last Witch Attempt
“If Millie was here this afternoon, that means nobody has seen Tillie since this morning,” Scout pointed out. “She might’ve already made her move.”
That was a sobering thought. “I’ll get on the Millie situation tonight. I probably shouldn’t have let her go after lunch. I just thought…”
“I know what you were thinking,” Scout assured me. “Whether you want to admit it or not, she’s dangerous. She’s obviously holding a grudge.”
“Aunt Tillie with a grudge,” Landon noted. “We have no idea how long her anger has been festering. Maybe it’s better to deal with Millie and then worry about the naiad.”
“Millie isn’t killing people,” I argued.
“That we know of.”
“You’re right. Dinner is in an hour. If Millie shows up, we have to deal with her.”
“How do we explain that to Steve?” Landon asked.
That was a very good question. “Maybe Steve needs to get a full look at the craziness in this house,” I said. “He thinks everything is cool, the occasional arachnid fight being the worst we deal with. He was thrown by that because I handled it so easily.”
Landon nodded. “You get to set the tone, Bay. It’s your show.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. You have a say in this relationship.”
“Not when it comes to magic. My job in this instance is to back you up.”
He was saying all the right things, still, I wasn’t happy. “That’s a lot of pressure,” I groused.
“I’ll be there to give you a massage when you’re done making the decision.” He held out his hands. “I can’t make this decision for you.”
“You have infallible instincts, Bay,” Scout said. “Follow your gut.”
“No pressure,” I drawled.
She smirked. “No pressure.”
SCOUT, STORMY, AND GUNNER WEREgone twenty minutes before Spencer and Steve arrived for dinner. They were talking excitedly amongst themselves. Apparently, they’d found tracks outside the cabin and taken casts so they had something new to enter into their database. To them, it was all a grand adventure.
They were about to get a hard dose of reality.
“It’s pot roast night,” Landon announced when they joined us in the dining room. He had wine in front of him. I’d opted for iced tea because my inner danger alarm was dinging, and I didn’t want slow reflexes if I had to take on Millie. “You’re going to love it.”
Steve smirked. “I adore pot roast.”
“Me too.” Spencer was smarter about the paranormal world than his boss. His eyes immediately went to me. “You’re plotting something.”
It wasn’t a question. “‘Plotting’ probably isn’t the right word. There are a few things we need to catch you up on.” I glanced at the swinging door. Aunt Tillie—or Millie—hadn’t made an appearance yet. I decided to start with that problem. “There are two Aunt Tillies running around.”
Steve smiled as if I was joking. Spencer, however, went rigid. He knew this wasn’t a game.
“Two Aunt Tillies?” Steve asked. “Is this part of the dinner theater I’ve heard so much about?”
He was clueless sometimes. I looked at Landon for help.
“The dinner theater is actually not dinner theater,” Landon explained. “It’s usually magic—or Aunt Tillie being Aunt Tillie—that is explained away as dinner theater.”
“I don’t…” Steve trailed off. “Huh. I feel as if I should’ve figured that out myself.”
Landon’s smile was rueful. “It’s okay. These things take time to grasp.”
“You’re going to have to grasp it fast,” I supplied. “There are two Aunt Tillies running around town. That explains what happened in front of the diner. She wasn’t doing costume changes.”
