Amanda M. Lee [Lee - Flip the Witch Switch

Prologue

Seventeen years ago

I hate camping.

Clove Winchester, her black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, screwed up her face in the most petulant of tween expressions and glared at her great-aunt Tillie. It was the snine. The half sneer, half whine. She was good at the snine.

Aunt Tillie didnt care how good she was at the expression. The tone of her voice was like vampire nails on a glass window.

You dont hate camping, she fired back, her agitation coming out to play. You like camping. Camping is fun. Youre just whining because you like the sound of your voice.

Thats what Mom says about you, Bay volunteered. Unlike her cousin Clove, Bay was fair and blond. She also wasnt darting her eyes around the campsite because she feared some unforeseen monster sneaking up on them. She was calm, although pleasant was another story.

Your mother says what about me? Aunt Tillie huffed as she dug in the bag by her feet.

She says that you like the sound of your own voice.

Well, that sounds just like your mother, Aunt Tillie said primly. Do you want me to tell you something about your mother?

Shes going to tell you whether you want to hear it or not, the third young girl, Thistle, announced from her spot across the fire. Her hair was blond, wild and unkempt after an afternoon traipsing around the woods to collect herbs. She didnt seem to care, though, because she had other things on her mind like seeing how far she could push her great-aunt. Thats what she does.

You listen here, Thistle, Tillie snapped, narrowing her eyes. Im going to tell you because its important to what were doing out here.

I thought we were lost, Clove groused, her eyes going wider (if that was even possible) as something fluttered from one tree to another. What was that?

I think it was a rabid bat, Thistle replied dryly. Its going to come bite you during the night and its going to be all Cujo up in here before the sun rises.

Oh, that shows what you know, Tillie said, making a face. It takes weeks for rabies to set in. She wouldnt turn into Cujo right away. She would froth at the mouth and we would have to lock her in a shed before it got that bad.

Clove, eternally miffed, folded her arms over her chest and glared. I want to go home right now!

Tillie was used to her great-nieces making demands. Shed been sharing a roof with them for years and before that she occasionally volunteered to babysit, but only if she needed the cover toting around three small children could offer should the police come sniffing around asking questions and she knew exactly how to handle the mouthy little cauldron sniffers.

We cant go home. She chose her words carefully. Part of the outdoor experience is sleeping under the stars. As witches, you have to commune with nature. Its one of those rules that you have to follow even if you dont want to.

Clove was having none of that. I dont want to follow the rules! The woods are full of animals ... and monsters ... and animals.

What animal are you worried about?

The big ones.

Shes worried about Bigfoot, Thistle volunteered, her expression seeming to indicate that she was bored. She saw this video on some nature show and there was footage of Bigfoot and the lady who was talking said that Bigfoot lived in our area, so ... shes basically scared of Bigfoot.

Clove was officially scandalized. I am not afraid of Bigfoot!

You are so. Bay rubbed her hands over her bare knees and stared into the fire. How long do you think it will be until they send a search party after us?

Clove worried about ridiculous things. Bay worried about real things, and Tillie found that far more dangerous. Thats why she opted to address both problems with one breath.

First, you dont have to worry about Bigfoot, Clove. I know what you saw on television, but Bigfoot doesnt live around these parts, so youre safe.

Clove brightened considerably. Really? She flicked her eyes to Thistle. Is that true?

Thistle made a face. Why are you asking me? I know what you know.

You dont know jack, Thistle, Tillie fired back. But thats neither here nor there. The fact of the matter is, this isnt Bigfoot territory.

Clove drew her eyebrows together. Where is Bigfoot territory? She clearly wasnt sure if she should believe her great-aunt, but she definitely wanted a reason to tear her thoughts from a huge apelike creature that might rip her from limb to limb.

Bigfoot lives in the Pacific Northwest. Tillie was matter-of-fact. Thats his home.

And where is that? Clove gnawed a fingernail as she searched the shadows for hints of movement. Is that a long way away?

Were talking Oregon, Washington state and Canada, Clove, Tillie shot back. Dont you pay attention in geography class?

Canada? Cloves voice turned shrill. Were really close to Canada.

Canada is big like Margaret Littles behind, Tillie explained. Its huge. The part of Canada were talking about is a long way from here. Bigfoot cant live here, so it stays in the spot where its supposed to live.

Are you sure? Clove clearly wanted to believe, so she unclenched a bit. Why would people say Bigfoot was hanging around these woods if its not true?

People are morons, Clove. They say stupid things all the time.

Yeah, but ... youre sure, right?

Tillie bobbed her head. Im completely and totally sure. Bigfoot cant live in these woods because the Dogman owns them.

Cloves mouth dropped open. Who is the Dogman?

Hes like Bigfoots hairy cousin who wags his tail, Thistle offered helpfully.

Pretty much, Tillie agreed. The Dogman is better. He can be distracted with Frisbees and when you do that fake throwing balls thing. Hes cool that way.

Clove buried her face in her hands and whimpered. I hate you. I cant believe you got us lost.

Hey! Tillies eyes fired. I did not get us lost. I know exactly where we are.

Is that close to the Dogmans lair? Thistle asked, feigning legitimate curiosity.

Listen, junior mouth, I might not have a room to send you to, but that wont stop me from cursing you if I feel like it, Tillie warned. Just ... shut your mouth.

I would but Im afraid this is the last time Ill have to open it and your threats have no power on me, old lady. Thistle mightve been only ten but she was worldly in a way most kids couldnt claim. She was smart beyond her years, which made her a constant thorn in Tillies backside. Were going to die out here and its completely your fault because you got us lost.

I dont get lost.

Really? Then why did you have to magically make a fire? Thistle challenged. How come were eating berries instead of tacos? Were supposed to be eating tacos.

Oh, its taco night. Clove sounded mournful. I love tacos. How could you get us lost on taco night? That is just the worst.