Read Online Any Witch Way You Can by Amanda Lee[murder] - Free Book Online Page A

murdered teenage boy who had his heart cut out. What could go wrong with this scenario? How about everything.
     

Seven
    You might think going on a secret mission with your cousins sounds like fun. If that’s the case, then I’m telling the story wrong. It’s never fun. The fact that I let Thistle and Clove talk me into it was a commentary on how weak I am – I can never tell them no -- not how great their powers of persuasion are.
    I knew all of this going in. Yet, at midnight, I found myself dressed in black and ready to break about three different local laws and ordinances.
    I had to stifle an actual groan when I saw Clove wander out of her bedroom. We’d all agreed to dress in black – although Thistle’s idea of black included a disco sequined tank top – but Clove had actually painted her face like we were about to go hunt and kill something in the woods.
    “What’s with the paint?” I grumbled.
    “We’re all very pale. You should put some on, too. Otherwise, we’ll stand out in the dark and it will be more likely that we get caught.”
    Thistle, usually the voice of reason in a situation like this, grabbed the canister of paint from Clove and immediately started lathering it on her face. When she was done, she handed it to me.
    “I’m not wearing that,” I argued.
    “If you don’t and we get caught, we’re blaming you,” Thistle warned ominously.
    Crap.
    I reluctantly took the canister from Thistle and dabbed a little bit on my face. When Thistle was still staring at me reprovingly, I sighed and followed the pattern the two of them had used. When I glanced at myself in the mirror afterwards, I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous we all looked.
    Clove smiled at our reflection in the mirror as she stepped up between the two of us. “We look really cute. We should take a picture.”
    Cute wasn’t the word I was thinking about using – but I didn’t bother voicing that concern. I knew it would get me nowhere. I also wasn’t going to take a picture so the cops could use it at our trial at a later date.
    Clove started digging through her purse and pulled out a black knit hat and handed it to me.
    “Why do I have to wear a knit hat?” I sounded whiny – even to myself.
    “You have blonde hair,” Clove pointed out, like I hadn’t noticed.
    “So?”
    “My hair is dark and Thistle’s is blue. They won’t stand out. Yours will stand out. You have to wear it.”
    “I don’t want to wear a hat,” I muttered.
    “Just put it on and stop being a baby,” Thistle admonished.
    “I’m not being a baby,” I grumbled, pulling the hat on. Clove came over to me and shoved the rest of my hair up under the hat. The look she gave me was daring me to complain. I wisely decided against it.
    “There,” she said when she was finished.
    We had decided that the best way to get to the corn maze was to walk. All of our vehicles were too easily recognizable. It would take us about forty-five minutes to get to the field – but we all agreed that sounded like the safest bet in the long run.
    “Chief Terry may have a crush on all of our moms, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing us in jail if the state police are there,” Thistle had argued.
    I couldn’t deny that she had a point. Still, I wasn’t looking forward to a 45-minute walk in the middle of the night. Crazy, I know.
    We left the guesthouse and made our way along the cobblestone path at the back of the property. If we avoided the roads, not only would we shorten our trip – but we would also have less of a chance of being captured.
    Most of the residents in the area avoided the back of our property like the plague. The property was gorgeous, mind you, but years ago our ancestors had set up a special clearing in the forest for pagan festivals. Through the years, our moms and aunts had started throwing solstice celebrations and equinox engagements in the clearing. Depending on how much liquor was imbibed at these celebrations, they often ended up