“She’s in love with Landon,” Clove argued. “Of course Bay doesn’t want her around.”
“It’s not that,” I countered. “In fact, I don’t think she really likes Landon. I think she pretends to like him as a way to gauge how I react.
“Patrice was taken over by a changeling,” I continued. “We fixed her memory, but that doesn’t always work. I’m afraid she’ll remember the wrong thing … and then what’s going to happen?”
“You can’t control that.” Thistle was firm. “As much as you would like to—and we would all prefer that outcome—there’s nothing we can do at this point until we know. It’s something we’re going to have to feel out.”
I hated when Thistle was the rational one in our group.
“There’s one more thing,” I started.
“Geez. You’ve had quite the morning.” Clove didn’t look happy. “And here I thought I was the one who had the rough night.”
“You mean Aunt Tillie dancing on the ship? Yeah, I heard about that. She says it wasn’t her.”
“I think I know what Aunt Tillie looks like.” Clove’s expression turned dark. “She’s not fooling anyone. I want to know what she was doing.”
“She was probably coming up with a spell to hex us,” Thistle volunteered. “We’re all on her list right now.”
“Oh, don’t even.” I wagged a finger, grinning when Calvin tried to grab it. “You’re the one on her list right now. She’s not happy with me, but she’s focused on you. Clove shouldn’t even be on her radar. Well, other than being a tattletale.”
Clove bristled. “I am not a tattletale!”
“Maybe she needed water for whatever spell she’s about to cast,” Thistle mused, ignoring Clove’s outburst. “I can see her going there for privacy.”
It was something I hadn’t considered. “Maybe. She’s going to be a handful, though.”
“When isn’t she?”
“I need her to rein it in. Whatever killed those men isn’t working alone.” I launched into the tale of the arachnids.
“Human-sized spiders?” Clove screeched, clutching the front of her shirt as if she was about to shake it and remove any bugs that might’ve crawled in. “What the hell, Bay?”
Was she really blaming me for this? “Um, I didn’t bring them here.”
“You need to get rid of them.” Clove was firm. “I don’t want them here. I just … no!” Her eyes were wild.
“You should’ve said it was Bigfoot,” Thistle offered. “Now we’re going to hear about spiders for the rest of our lives.”
“They’re easy enough to kill,” I argued.
“Yes, I’ll get a really big can of Raid,” Clove said dryly. “Or how about a big fly swatter? That should fix everything.” Her tone was accusatory. “Not all of us can call an army of ghosts to swoop in and save us in a pinch. I don’t have the same skill set as you.”
I wasn’t certain how to respond. “Maybe you should move into the inn for the next few days. You and the baby will be protected there. You’re isolated at the Dandridge.”
“You want me to move in with my mother?” Clove’s horror was palpable. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
“I don’t see you moving in with your mother.”
“I practically live with my mother as it is. Give me a break.” I wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics. “Either move in at the innor lock yourself down at the Dandridge at night. We warded the building. You should be fine.”
“I don’t want to be held captive in my own home,” Clove whined.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” When I risked a glance at Thistle, I found her grinning. “Don’t torture her with fake spiders. I can only take so much.”
Thistle held up her hands in surrender, although I knew she was nowhere near done. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
