Everybody Wants to Rune the World: A Happily Everlasting World Novel (Bewitchingly Ever After Book 2)

by Mandy M. Roth

  “Yes, we often joke about me losing my head and going down in history for it,” snapped Hank.

  Luc appeared to be fighting a laugh as he motioned to Jake. “If you could handle getting Hank’s head back to his body, I’d appreciate it.”

  Jake went to the dog. “Furfur, give me Hank’s head.”

  The dog ran across the room with the head in his mouth.

  Walden tried to get the head then, only to have Furfur run behind Louis.

  It became a game of cat and mouse, or in this case, centaur, dog, and head. The dog was winning.

  Morgan’s laughter was rich and filled the room. “This is awesome!”

  Luc sighed, and merely watched the men as they tried and failed to get the head from the dog.

  Furfur dropped the head and Louis made an attempt to grab it, only to kick it with his foot instead. Hank’s head rolled across the floor, toward Luc. The dog got to it before anyone could react. He snatched up the head and ran around the room again.

  “Louis, you kicked me!” shouted Hank.

  Louis cringed. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

  Morgan laughed more. “Welcome to Hedgewitch Cove, Sigmund. We call this a normal day.”

  Furfur ran right to Sigmund and leapt partially onto him before dropping the head in his lap.

  Sigmund caught Hank’s head and held it, turning it upside down and all around, trying to figure out how it was the man was alive at all and why there was no blood or gore of any kind to speak of.

  “Rude,” said Hank as his head was upside down.

  Sigmund righted it quickly. “Sorry.”

  Luc put his hands out and took Hank’s head from Sigmund. “Thank you. Louis, phone Medusa and let her know we have Hank’s head here. If I’m right, the rest of Hank is running this way trying to get to his head.”

  “Yes. I’m about four blocks away, coming up from the back and through the cemetery,” said Hank, as if this sort of thing happened daily. “I’ll be coming through the back door. Oh, look, Darrell is out running too. Never mind, you can’t see him. I can.”

  Morgan nudged Sigmund. “His body can operate independently from his head. He can see and hear everything, even without his head. I’d give you a long explanation but the short of it is magic.”

  “Good thing you like to run,” said York, laughing from his spot in the chair. “Furfur steals your head so often that he keeps you fit enough for marathons.”

  Furfur stayed partially on Sigmund’s lap. The dog licked his cheek.

  Sigmund cringed.

  Morgan snorted. “The best thing he’s had in his mouth today was probably Hank’s head. Who knows what’s now on your cheek?”

  “Great,” said Sigmund, using a tissue to wipe off the slobber. He then tried to get Furfur down. That didn’t work. Trying to move the dog was like trying to move a mountain.

  “He’s a hellhound,” said Morgan. “A lot stronger than any normal dog. And he gets into way more mischief than any normal dog too.”

  Sigmund stared at the dog’s face and found himself smiling as he rubbed behind his ears. “That so?”

  Furfur closed his eyes and tried to lie partially on Sigmund’s lap. It didn’t quite go as planned.

  Luc pulled the dog down. “Go to your room and think long and hard about your behavior.”

  With a long harrumph, the dog hurried off.

  Morgan chuckled. “His room is under the stairs. Loves it in there. Though we do have to check the area several times a day for loot he’s stolen from people around town. He’s also got a thing for digging up graves. If you find any bones in there with him, assume he got them from there. Just find one of us. We’ll see to it they get put back.”

  Sigmund’s gaze snapped to Jake. What in the hell kind of town had the man brought him to?

  Luc adjusted his jacket. “I’m going to the kitchen to check on the progress of the spell, and to be sure Betty isn’t making zombie gumbo.”

  Chapter Five

  Virginia fell into step next to her sister as they walked toward the large inn that really cornered the market on ghostly mansion vibes. Large ferns hung from hooks all the way around the wraparound porch. Black rocking chairs were placed along the porch as well. The entire thing was furnished with high-end furniture and fixtures, but all of it was very Gothic chic.

  Missi touched her arm lightly. “Oh, I almost forgot. I bumped into Darrell on my way over here. He’s out running again. You know how active that man is…and totally delicious to look at. He was extremely interested in what you’ve been up to, and if you’ll be helping with the Winter Formal’s catering.”

  Virginia blushed at the mention of Darrell Basseri. He was newer to town, having lived there just under a year, but was already fitting right in. It was as if he’d been born and raised there. He’d been hired on as the high school principal when the previous one retired. The kids seemed to love him—and so did the ladies. It didn’t hurt that he was very handsome—and very single, from what she’d heard.

  “He asked about me?”

  Missi beamed. “He sure did. A lot. So, are you catering the school dance that’s coming up?”

  Catering was a service the restaurant she ran offered, but she normally had one of her two full-time chefs handle it, along with their kitchen crew. She was currently down one chef and was trying her best to find a replacement. For now, it left her picking up the slack, which included the catering side of the business.

  “Momma mentioned something to me about it the other day. She was wondering if I was going to cater it too. Kept pushing me about it. You don’t think she’s trying to set me up with Darrell, do you?”

  “It would be a very Momma thing to do,” said Missi, shaking her head. “She’ll just be happy if you don’t bring home a You-Know-Who.”

  At the mention of Missi’s ex-boyfriend, Virginia growled. “He’s a jerk. I hope he itches for weeks after what Grandmother did to…erm…never mind.”

  “What did Mémé do to him?” asked Missi, her eyes growing the size of half dollars.

  “She might have sort of cast a spell that gave him jock itch.” Virginia waited for her sister to blow.

  Missi blinked twice, and then burst into a fit of laughter. “I love that woman!”

  They stepped onto the porch.

  “Getting a handle on your shifter side will come with time. I’ll be there the entire way, helping you as best I can. I’m the one person here who can be in the water with you without too much worry,” said York from just inside the front double doors that were standing open. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. You had zero control or knowledge it was even happening. Besides, the world suffered no great loss.”

  “I tried telling him that on the drive down here. Sig isn’t hearing any of it, and he refused to sleep,” came a familiar voice.

  Virginia nudged her sister. “Is that Jake Majoy’s voice?”

  “I think so,” said Missi with a smile. “We haven’t seen him in a while. Wonder what brought him to town.”

  The centaur had been a family friend of theirs since before the girls were born, probably way longer than that. He was immortal, as was her entire family. Virginia and her siblings were basically babies in the supernatural world. They’d look their current age for a long time to come.

  They entered the inn to find Jake standing just inside the sitting room, leaning against the wall, his dark hair looking as unruly as ever. The man was also as handsome as ever.

  He spotted them and smiled wide. “Ladies.”

  “We didn’t know you were coming to town,” said Missi. She then glanced at their father, who didn’t look anywhere close to his true age. The man seemed to be stuck in his early forties, and their mother appeared even younger than that.

  Right now, their father seemed concerned as he stood near a fireplace with a huge mantel, with tiny demons carved into the dark wood.

  Virginia had seen the fireplace lit once, and she could have sworn voices had com
e from the flames and the tiny demons carved into the wood moved their heads, watching her. She’d asked her grandmother about it, only to be told to leave it be. Grandmother had also mentioned something about the dead needing to speak their piece. Whatever that meant.

  Their father glanced over at them, his expression grim. “Thanks for comin’, girls.”

  Missi eyed him. “Daddy, where is Momma? Is everything okay? Did something happen? Arizona? Georgia?”

  At the mention of their other siblings, their father offered a warm smile. “The family is fine, darlin’. Your momma is with your grandmother in the kitchen. Why don’t you go on out and see if they need a hand with anythin’? And while you’re there, make sure Betty doesn’t help or try to cook anythin’.”

  “Sure thing, Daddy.” Nodding, Missi headed for the kitchen.

  York looked up at Virginia from his seat in one of the blood-red Queen Anne chairs that sat across from a black sofa. “Sis, meet Sigmund. Sig, this is one of my younger sisters, Virginia. The other one was Missi.”

  It was then she spotted a tall man sitting with his head bent, his elbows on his knees. His sandy-blond hair was tousled to the point it looked as if he’d been running his hands through it nonstop. He was in a dark green pullover, short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of tan dress slacks. His shoes were dress casual and brown.

  He glanced up—and the first thing she noticed was how incredibly handsome he was. The next were his emerald-green eyes, framed by black eyeglasses that made him look at lot like he was a college professor—a certain kind of sexy yet nerdy thing working in his favor. He looked to be around the age of thirty and had a muscular, lean frame. There was a light dusting of light brown stubble on his squared jawline. It only made him more handsome.

  There was something about him that kept her attention fixated. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t surrounded by handsome men all the time. She was. But Sigmund had a certain quality about him that she found oddly captivating. So much so that it took her a minute to realize she was staring.

  He was doing the same thing to her.

  Someone touched her shoulder, and she jolted slightly, turning to find Louis there, dressed a lot like Sigmund in dress-casual attire. Like all the Peugeot children, he had dark hair. He rarely paid attention to it and only cut it when their father threatened to hold him down and buzz his head, which happened about twice a year.

  Louis lifted a brow. “You look as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

  She found herself glancing back at Sigmund, unease and something else tugging at her gut. Something that made her not only want to look her fill, but go up to the stranger and touch him.

  She held back.

  It was harder than it should be.

  “Lavender and sage. It’s coming from you,” he said, his voice barely there, his eyes widening as his gaze stayed locked on her.

  She remained silent.

  “You’re my…”

  He stood slowly, and she had to admit his height was impressive. She was five-nine and on the taller side for a woman. He inclined his head to her and then rubbed the back of his neck.

  Virginia’s stomach did tiny flip-flops at the sight of the man before her. Her brain screamed at her to say something, do something, anything. It wasn’t as if she was shy. But her mouth and her brain were suffering a very clear and very defined disconnect when it came to the newcomer. And if she let her body lead, she’d be over there petting him or something.

  That wouldn’t do in the least.

  Instead, she froze in place like a frog in a pond at night with a flashlight shining on him. She did reach up to be sure her mouth was closed. Catching flies on top of everything else would have been the icing on the cake.

  Sigmund glanced at her, and then banged his shin on the coffee table, making a tray with a teapot on it shake and nearly fall off. Bending, he grabbed it, but was clumsy as he did, almost knocking it off again. He secured the teapot and then stood fast, nearly falling onto the sofa.

  Jake laughed. “Sigmund, you all right there? Suddenly you have two left feet. That’s new.”

  Her father snorted. “That boy is sweatin’ like a sinner in church. Somethin’ make you nervous?”

  York glanced at Virginia. “Or someone?”

  Louis smiled. “This is interesting.”

  “No. Not interesting,” said Sigmund, so fast it was impossible to believe.

  Her brothers laughed.

  Virginia wanted to come to his aid. Help him deflect the unwanted attention, but she was still in a dazed stupor, feeling as if she might never actually get her brain and mouth to connect properly again.

  “I’m just trying to come to terms with what I did,” whispered Sigmund, his voice constricting in pain.

  Virginia nearly went to him to comfort him.

  A box of tissue that was on the coffee table lifted in the air and floated to Sigmund. Virginia knew then that Morgan was close. She stared in the direction she assumed the ghost to be.

  “He’s into the dramatics. Honestly, Ms. Cherry would love to have him in one of her theater productions,” said Morgan with a slight laugh. “Seriously though, Sig is having some trouble adjusting to his newfound shifting abilities.”

  “New abilities?” asked Virginia, surprised since she’d never met anyone who came into their shifter side as an adult.

  Her father nodded. “Late bloomer so to speak, darlin’.”

  She raked her gaze over Sigmund. The man looked fully bloomed and then some to her. She gulped and had to tear her gaze from him.

  York laughed.

  “Want me to throw something at him?” asked Morgan.

  “I’d love that,” replied Virginia.

  Jake sighed. “Sig, no one expects you to be able to control your kraken form since you’ve been shifting all of two seconds, it seems.”

  She perked. “You’re a were-kraken?”

  He nodded and then sighed. “Yes. And a killer.”

  She glanced at her father and decided a joke was in order. “Daddy, I thought Momma said you could only have killers over for boys’ night at Luc’s on Tuesdays, when her bridge club was meeting? It’s Friday. No hanging with killers on Fridays. You know the rules.”

  Her father’s lips quirked. He winked. “While in shifted form, Sig took out two Collective members.”

  “Good.” Virginia smiled. “Two fewer crazed zealots doing evil’s bidding.”

  Sig arched a brow. “You’re not scared to be around me? Afraid I might shift and hurt you?”

  Walden eyed him. “My girl isn’t too fond of the Collective—for good reason. None of us are.”

  Jake explained. “Sig, Virginia is part siren, part witch, and part hunter. She doesn’t really scare easy. Her mother is hoping she can assist with the spell that might help you with your kraken side for a bit while we all figure out a way to help you learn to control it.”

  “You’re a siren?” Sigmund asked, his gaze locking on her.

  She nodded.

  “You lure fishermen to their deaths with songs?” he asked, worry on his face.

  Her brothers laughed.

  Hard.

  Virginia drew back slightly. She lowered her head.

  Morgan grunted. “She does no such thing!”

  Sigmund jerked at the suddenly shrill sound of the ghost’s voice.

  Virginia averted her gaze. “I should go help Momma. Nice to meet you, Sigmund.”

  “Don’t go,” he said fast. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

  Louis came closer and put his arm around her. “You good?”

  Virginia nodded and headed for the kitchen.

  Sigmund came toward her quickly, tripping over the end of the coffee table as he did.

  She reached out with her free hand, the other still holding the small package and mail. She caught hold of Sigmund’s hand.

  The second their skin touched, heat flared between them. Her breath caught.

&nb
sp; His green eyes widened, and he yanked her closer to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst when I heard you’re a siren. That was wrong of me.”

  Her father grunted. “I’ll thank you to step back from my daughter now.”

  Sigmund did, but held her hand a bit on his way, as if he didn’t want to lose contact with her. He returned to his spot near the sofa. “Virginia, I really am sorry.”

  She offered a slight nod. “It’s okay. You’re not wrong about what a siren can do. I’d think the worst of me too.”

  Her father sighed. “Darlin’, your momma’s told you more than once that you have a gift. Not a curse. You can sing a lion off a bloody steak. When you were just a lil’ thing, you’d sing softly to Missi while she was in her crib. Relaxed her. Helped her sleep. Then there was the time you sang to the twins and they passed out face first in their mashed potatoes at the dinner table.”

  The twins groaned.

  Morgan laughed. “I didn’t hear this one. Tell me there are pictures.”

  Virginia smiled. “There are. I’ll have Momma get them so I can show you.”

  “How about we not?” York shifted in the seat uncomfortably.

  “Now I have to see them,” said Morgan.

  York looked at the mail and package in her hands. “What do you have there?”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Virginia said, clearing her throat. “I ran into Barnebas out front. Needless to say, the man is scared to come up here to deliver mail. There are letters for Luc and a package for Betty. Wonder what in the world she ordered? Smells a little funny.”

  Louis grabbed the package. “My guess, werewolf toes.”

  Virginia froze. “Do I want to know?”

  “Bob,” said Jake and her father at the same time.

  She nodded, understanding totally how werewolf toes would be ordered if Bob was involved. “Guess we should be happy it’s not the whole werewolf.”

  “Probably didn’t have a bulk discount on whole ones,” said York, his gaze sliding to his twin. “We could offer you up for free. You know, you being a wolf-shifter and all.”

  “Virginia,” said Louis with a smirk. “Willing to sing him to sleep again?”