Prelude to a Witch by Amanda Lee (best motivational books for students TXT) 📗

to call off the wedding, but I need to be prepared. That face is just ... wow. You know that doll that everyone wants to kill in those movies?”

“Chucky,” I said.

“Yeah. Your mother reminds me of that doll right now.”

I had to swallow my laugh. My mother remained rooted to her spot, glaring at Aunt Tillie. They were locked in a battle of wills and I was curious which of them would come out the winner.

“Did you find anything during your search?” Hannah asked, wisely changing the subject. Her plate was heaped with quesadilla pieces and tacos. “I didn’t get an update, so I assumed that you didn’t find anything.”

“You assumed right.” Landon’s expression slipped. “We have nothing to show for our efforts. I mean ... absolutely nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” Hannah looked genuinely contrite. “I’m still trying to piece together a picture of our perpetrator. I don’t have much to go on, but Hemlock Cove is a fascinating town.”

“Fascinating?” Landon flicked a quick look toward me but kept his face impassive. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the entire identity of this town shifted when it became Hemlock Cove. Before, it was a struggling small town with no industrial base. Now it’s a thriving tourist destination with paranormal undertones.”

“You mean the witch stuff. I thought this place was nuts when I first visited. Now I’m used to it.”

“The witch stuff is smart,” Hannah said. “I’ve been to Salem. They’ve based their entire economy on a tragedy from hundreds of years ago. They’ve modernized it over the years, but the witch history drives their economy. Now it’s known as a Halloween town year-round, and that allows them to thrive.

“Hemlock Cove did the same thing, but didn’t have a tragic history to build on,” she continued. “I don’t know who came up with the idea of populating a small Michigan town with witches, but whoever it was should receive an award.”

“Actually, that was a conversation that spanned a full year,” Mom offered as she sat down. She was still watching Aunt Tillie to make sure she didn’t try to steal a taco but seemed engaged in the conversation. “We knew we had to save Hemlock Cove. Some of the other communities around us had based their economies on leaf tours and lake visits. We don’t have a water feature besides the cove out by the lighthouse — well, other than Hollow Creek, which isn’t really a draw — so we needed to do something to stand out.”

“I was part of those discussions,” Chief Terry said. “I thought those suggesting the witch theme were crazy, but when things started to come together, I saw how it would work. We needed a gimmick, and that’s what we ended up with.”

“I’ve read up on the town,” Hannah said. “There were a few hiccups at first, but things caught on quickly. This town is uniquely situated for small inns and bed and breakfasts.”

“We are,” Chief Terry agreed.

“Also, this family has taken on mythic proportions in some online forums,” she added.

I froze, my taco halfway to my mouth. I should’ve known she would broach the subject again.

“Mythic proportions?” Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “What does that mean?”

“I think she means our dinner theater,” I volunteered weakly.

“Oh, the dinner theater here is revered,” Hannah agreed. “Your former guests rave about it online.”

“What dinner theater?” Aunt Tillie demanded, her hand snaking around the plate of liver and heading for the burritos. “We don’t do dinner theater.”

Thwack!

Mom pulled a wooden spoon out from Goddess knows where and viciously smacked Aunt Tillie’s hand.

“Ow!” Aunt Tillie pulled back her hand and cradled it, glaring murderous holes into my mother. “What was that?”

“It’s liver or nothing,” Mom insisted. “If you’re going to insist on wearing those leggings, then you’ll eat what we see fit.”

“Tomorrow it’s split pea soup,” Marnie warned.

“Oh, I hate split pea soup,” Aunt Tillie moaned. “It looks like green diarrhea.”

“And thank you for that,” Landon drawled. “You’re going to ruin my appetite. Oh, wait, it’s still good. I’ll just stay away from the green salsa.”

“This would be an example of the dinner theater,” Hannah explained. “People love it. They think it’s an act and don’t realize it’s authentic.”

“That’s because they don’t want to admit that my supposedly sweet-as-pie nieces are really torturers of the highest order,” Aunt Tillie muttered. “I’m not eating this liver!” Her voice echoed throughout the room, causing me to look up.

My heart did a long, slow roll when I saw the movement in the window at the far end of the room. “Crap.” My mouth went dry.

“What’s wrong?” Landon was almost completely focused on his dinner. “Don’t eat the green salsa if you’ve still got what Aunt Tillie said in your head. Save it for later.”

I kept my gaze on the window, frowning when the shades began to grow in number. What started out as two had grown to five in the blink of an eye.

“Your family’s history is amazing,” Hannah continued, oblivious to what was happening behind her. “You’ve owned this property for years and people online swear this is the most magical place in town.”

Landon stiffened next to me. “What do you mean?”

“Something about the bluff,” Hannah replied, making a face and glancing over her shoulder, probably to see what I was staring at. “What is it, Bay? Is something wrong?”

Landon finally tore himself from his feast and moved his hands to my face. “Sweetie, you’re really pale. Are you sick?”

“I’ll have her food.” Aunt Tillie reached for my plate.

Thwack!

“I said no,” Mom barked. “You’re eating the liver or giving me those leggings. Those are your only two choices.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Aunt Tillie railed. “You can’t decide what I eat.”

“I’m the cook, so I most definitely can.”

The number of shades in the window had grown too large to count. I was about to suggest that we get Hannah out of the room when the lights flickered, followed by a huge bolt of lightning outside. The low roll of thunder followed less than a second later.

Hannah practically