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

by Mandy M. Roth

  Interested in Sigmund’s mate.

  Admitting it to himself had been the easy part.

  Now I just have to say it out loud.

  Sigmund had known who Virginia was to him the day they’d met. He’d realized then that she was his mate. The other half of his soul. It was the only thing that made sense as to why he’d reacted the way he had to her scent, and still reacted that way whenever he caught a whiff of it. Why he always wanted to be near her, touch her, kiss her.

  It took nearly as much willpower to avoid her as it did to ignore the call of the ocean.

  That was saying something, since his shifter side basically lived in a constant state of longing for the open waters. The dark magic that had been used in the creation of the spell Virginia and the others had cast over him upon his arrival in town had helped tremendously with his control issues upfront, giving him vital control over his kraken side.

  York had been more than willing to work with Sigmund on learning to control his shifts, but the very idea of turning into the sea creature horrified Sigmund. He’d done it a few times while the spell was still in full effect, giving him a safety net. But he’d known the spell wouldn’t last forever, and it hadn’t. He’d felt the day it wore off—felt the call of the water deep in his bones. He lived in fear of surrendering to the pull. It haunted his dreams. In them, he felt like he was drowning, unable to catch his breath in the cold, dark abyss.

  Often, he woke with night sweats, positive he’d done it—lost the battle of wills with the beast and shifted forms while sleeping. Each time he came awake, fearing the worst, he’d been able to calm himself when he realized he’d not left his room, and that he’d not actually trolled the waters for prey.

  “You all right? You look a little green,” said York, drawing Sigmund from his thoughts and back to the here and now. He held up the boat fender for comparison. “Yep. Green.”

  “I’m good,” he said, thinking back to what York had said about Darrell. “Hold on a second, why were you checking on Virginia’s SUV? Why is her SUV in the shop? Is she okay? Did something happen to her? Was she hurt?”

  The urge to run down the dock and straight to Runes Restaurant & Pub came over him.

  Had York not reached out fast and put his hand on Sigmund’s shoulder, he might very well have done as much. “Hold your tentacles there, big guy. She’s fine. The dreaded curse struck again. Her SUV broke down this morning. I met the tow truck at her place and followed it over to the service station. I feel bad for her. Transportation has not been her friend since Mémé Marie-Claire decided to help out our love lives. The goddess willing and the creek don’t rise, the curse breaks for me without forcing me to meet my mate. I thought it would happen like dominos after Missi and Curt, but so far, knock on wood, it ain’t. I was worried my bachelor days were numbered. So far, all I’ve gotten out of the curse was the ability to break a boat in two-point-two seconds. It’s been how long since the chaos curse was cast?”

  “Nearly seven months,” replied Sigmund, knowing the time frame down to the hour and minute as well. He held back from offering that information.

  York arched a dark brow. “How is it you know that off the top of your head? I’m cursed and I don’t even know how long it’s been.”

  Sigmund knew because he’d spent every day of the nearly seven months worried the curse would harm Virginia. And he’d spent each day wondering if it would be the day the curse decided it was high time he stopped hiding what he knew to be true—that she was his mate.

  The spell of chaos that shrouded Virginia’s everyday life had caused a number of mishaps to occur, but so far, she’d been able to continue to run the restaurant without too much issue. Curt, who owned a successful restaurant back in Everlasting, had offered to lend a hand should she need it.

  Sigmund wished she’d take Curt up on the offer.

  He worried about her.

  Worried that something terrible would happen, especially since she liked to work on the catering side of her business alone, during hours the restaurant was closed to the public. Anything could happen to her in there and no one would know. He knew the dangers; he’d thought of them all a hundred times over, playing each scenario out in his head, worry clawing at his gut.

  “Have you seen her today? Is she still limping?” asked Sigmund, his body tight as a bow string as he thought about seeing Virginia on a ladder yesterday morning, out in front of Runes, cleaning the windows. He’d been transfixed at the sight of her as she did the mundane task. She’d been fine one second, and the ladder had then just seemed to go out from under her the next. She’d gone down, and the bucket of water she’d been using to wash the windows had dumped over her, soaking her shirt. That had certainly been a sight to see. Thankfully his concern for her well-being had outweighed his male hormones.

  York eyed him suspiciously. “You could just ask her how she’s doing. Speaking to her would get you all this information and more. Then you wouldn’t have to be pumping me for details about her and her life all the time.”

  Sigmund stiffened. “I don’t…um…”

  The lie wouldn’t roll off his tongue.

  York was right. He did pump the man for information about Virginia whenever he could.

  York snorted. “When are you going to get over your aversion to talking to her?”

  “I don’t have an aversion to her,” said Sigmund defensively, as if his quick retort somehow made the man’s statement untrue.

  York wasn’t wrong.

  Sigmund did avoid Virginia.

  For good reason.

  He was a man with control issues. A man who had taken two lives. So what if they were bad guys? He’d never forgive himself, and she deserved better than him.

  But not Darrell.

  Some guy who was better but didn’t actually touch her or stand by her or look at her, or exist.

  Yes.

  That would do perfectly.

  He knew it was irrational, yet it was how he felt.

  Shaking his head, York glanced past him. Confusion knit the man’s forehead. “What is Petey doing?”

  Sigmund followed York’s gaze and spotted Petey Winters on the end of one of the docks, standing toe to toe with Ernest Perez. They both worked on the fishing boats, helping to handle everything that needed to be done. Ernest had been full time with Leviathan for decades. Petey was filling in as needed, since he was more than experienced with fishing and owned his own bait and tackle shop back in Everlasting. It was closed this time of year, so he had time to spare.

  He’d come down with Curt and, like Curt, had stayed. Though Sigmund wasn’t sure how long Petey planned to be in town. He knew the man had a serious soft spot for York’s grandmother, who had been his sweetheart at one point in the far past. But like Sigmund with Virginia, Petey kept his distance from Marie-Claire.

  Apparently he was just as nervous about talking to the woman who held his interest as Sigmund was talking to his mate.

  Ernest and Petey were facing off, their shouts getting louder. The two men looked to be around the same age, but Sigmund’s gut said Petey was older. By how much, Sigmund wasn’t sure, but he did know Petey had seen a lot of years as a wolf-shifter.

  Ernest, a were-salamander who enjoyed fishing almost as much as Petey, had on a pair of waders and a red flannel shirt. The fishing cap he wore covered the fact the top of his head was shiny bald, while gray close-cut hair covered the sides and back of his head. He was a few inches taller than Petey, who stood at only five foot eight.

  Petey was in a pair of black waders as well, but with red suspenders and a gray sweater under them. He had on a black knit cap that he was rarely without. His unruly gray hair poked out from under it.

  The two men appeared to be in a rather heated argument.

  Sigmund let out an annoyed breath. “No doubt they’re trading fishing stories again and going back and forth on who’s had the bigger catch. I’ve already had to break them apart two times this month alone. They’re like d
ealing with children, and I’d know. I taught school for years and was a principal. You know what? Dealing with children was easier than dealing with Petey and Ernest.”

  “Let ’em fight it out. It’s good for them and helps them burn off steam,” said York with a grin.

  Just then, Ernest went for a wooden oar that was lying on the dock near his small boat.

  York whistled, catching the men’s attention. “Hey now, y’all need to keep the fight clean. You hear me, Ernest?”

  Sigmund rolled his eyes. “You’re a big help.”

  “I know,” said York, laughing softly.

  Chapter Seven

  Sigmund glanced past York and spotted the man’s father approaching in full uniform.

  “Dad?” asked York, clearly puzzled as to why his father was down near the docks while on duty.

  Walden didn’t make a habit of stopping by the Leviathan unless it was his day off. He cast a slow gaze over the area and then looked back at them. “How are you two doing this afternoon?”

  “Fine,” said York. “I came down to catch up on some paperwork before we have boys’ night tonight. Want to come? We’re meeting at Howlers for dinner and then we’re gonna shoot some pool and be all manly and stuff—until Missi makes Curt come home.”

  Sigmund stared at his friend. “What does being all manly and stuff entail, exactly, because if you try to burp the alphabet again, I’m out.”

  Walden huffed. “Count your blessin’ if he only burped it. When he was eight, he tried to fart the thing. His sisters tied him up and shoved him in his closet after spraying him with air freshener. They didn’t tell anyone where he was for a good hour. Went and found him there—taking a nap. That boy makes me tired.”

  Sigmund laughed low and long. “I’d have loved to have seen that.”

  York grunted. “Did you have to share that story, Dad?”

  “No, but it amused me, so I did. Want me to tell him about the time you came out of your room durin’ one of your momma’s bridge club meetings, wearin’ only socks…on your hands. Not a stitch of clothin’ anywhere else. You were maybe four at the time and naked as a jaybird. Your grandmother got a good laugh out of it. Your momma wasn’t so pleased.”

  York’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks for the trip down memory lane, Dad.”

  “Anytime,” said Walden with a wide grin. He adjusted his gun belt and cleared his throat. “Y’all wouldn’t have happened to be together last night? Maybe out for some beers or something? Somewhere people would have seen y’all and can verify your whereabouts?”

  York laughed. “Why? We suspected of murder or something?”

  When Walden didn’t laugh too, Sigmund’s breath swooshed out of his lungs.

  “W-what happened?” he asked, only barely managing to stay calm.

  Walden was very Southern. The man never seemed to be in any kind of a hurry. That included when getting to the point, even when that point was murder.

  Walden let out a long, slow sigh. “A body washed up along the shore, just at the edge of town. No one known to us, but we’re trying to make a positive identification. Gonna call in a mystic in a few hours if that darned computer thingy doesn’t spit out any results. I’m startin’ to agree with Louis that all technology should be banned.”

  York eyed his father. “Are you asking Sig and me where we were last night because our shifter sides are water creatures?”

  “I’m asking because the body was found washed up from the water and had signs of bein’ nibbled on by a shark and, from the looks of it, was crushed to death,” said Walden, giving the men a knowing look.

  “I was down at Runes, helping Virginia change lightbulbs because we all know she has no business on a ladder,” said York. “As a thank you, she made me dinner. I went home after that. No one can vouch for me there, only me. And I think you know I didn’t go out for a midnight snack, if you catch my drift. And Sig hasn’t had one bad incident since he got here.”

  Walden nodded. “I know, and I hate askin’, but it’s my job. Sig, where were you last night?”

  “Hells Gate,” he replied. “I helped Betty with a puzzle she’s been working on, and then talked Bob out of laying a trap for Barnebas. Bob was going on about Barnebas taunting him and telling him he’d rue the day he dared to mess with him. This, of course, only made Bob more determined. After that, I headed to bed early.”

  Relief shone on the man’s face. “Good. That means people had eyes on you.”

  Sigmund stiffened. “Yes, but only until I went to bed. I could have walked in my sleep to the water, shifted, and killed someone. I’ve done it before. What if I did it again?”

  York groaned. “Remind me never to commit a crime with you. You’d tell the cops the whole thing, step by step. Heck, probably even draw ’em a diagram to go with it. I think it’s the teacher in you. Want to go into the office and use the computer to make a digital presentation of all the reasons you may or may not have offed someone?”

  Walden offered a warm smile. “Sig, I feel safe saying someone would have noticed you sleep walkin’ out of Hells Gate. If nothin’ else, Furfur—otherwise known ’round these parts anymore as your shadow—would have been seen wanderin’ about. Got no reports of that yet, so I think you’re in the clear. I just had to ask.”

  Sigmund took a deep breath. “You should take me down to the station. You should lock me up to be sure it wasn’t me. I’ll understand. Here, I’ll go in now myself.”

  York caught Sigmund by the upper arm as he went to walk in the direction of the parking area. “Whoa there, buddy. How about we hold off on incarcerating ourselves for the time being? And let’s seriously discuss you getting some therapy. Just don’t go to Doc Belk. That man is madder than the hatter.”

  “The boy is right. Doc Belk hasn’t been sane since the sixties. Before his experimental drug trials. We all told him not to be a test subject in his own study. He didn’t listen,” said Walden. “Murielle’s a good listener and can probably whip you up some herbal tea to help with the anxiety you’re clearly suffering from.”

  Sigmund felt panic creeping in. “I may have lost control and killed someone—again. I think my anxiety is more than warranted! Tea will not fix it.”

  York shrugged. “Depends on who the dead person is.”

  “York!”

  “What?” asked the man, sounding like a child.

  Sigmund looked back at Walden. “You really should take me in until all the results come back and your investigation is over. What if I did do it? Don’t you want to be sure I don’t skip town or go on the lam?”

  York groaned. “Go on the lam? Yes, everything about you screams hardened criminal.”

  Walden snorted. “Sig, I know you’re not a flight risk. If anything, I’m gonna have to make sure the deputy down at the jail knows to be on the lookout for Yankees tryin’ to punish themselves for crimes they didn’t commit.”

  “We don’t know that I didn’t do it,” argued Sigmund.

  York stared at his father. “Maybe handcuff him to the rail here so he doesn’t try anything stupid like, I don’t know, locking himself in one of your cells, demanding the death penalty or something.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Walden, grinning. His smile faded as shouting came from Petey and Ernest. “What in Sam Hill are those two goin’ on about?”

  “It was too that big!” shouted Petey, his New England accent evident. “Had to be at least eight feet long. Maybe even eight and a half feet. Biggest one I ever seen.”

  “Hogwash,” returned Ernest, the oar in his hand again. “My biggest catch was darn near nine feet.”

  “You can’t go counting catching your brother-in-law while he was in were-snake form,” snapped Petey. “It’s gotta be a fish. Not a guy who couldn’t hold his liquor, shifted shapes, and fell overboard. Just because you had to reel him in with a line doesn’t mean he’s a catch.”

  “Does so!” argued Ernest, giving Petey a good shove with the oar. “You’re just jealous t
hat I caught him with no bait. Unlike you, who we all know likes them soft plastic lures.”

  Petey’s fists shot up, and he began to jump around much like boxers from the fifties used to do. “Dems fightin’ words, Perez. Put ’em up! We’re gonna settle this like men.”

  “My momma didn’t raise no opossum. Let’s do this!” Ernest nodded, holding the oar like a bat. “To the death!”

  Sigmund took off at a run in their direction, followed closely by York and Walden.

  They reached the men just as Petey was taking a swing. Ernest dropped the oar and, while Petey missed Ernest because York had grabbed the man, he did not miss York. Petey’s fist connected with York’s right eye, knocking the man backward.

  York stumbled over the discarded oar and flipped off the dock and into the water.

  Sigmund bent, putting his hand out for York, who looked less than pleased with the situation. A line of expletives about the curse of chaos over his head fell free from his mouth.

  His father cleared his throat. “Boy, watch your mouth. But you’re not wrong. You got your grandmother to thank for all this. Go show her the shiner you’re gonna have. She’ll take pity on you and bake you some cookies. Bring me some. But don’t tell her they’re for me. She’ll poison them.”

  Sigmund pulled York out of the water and couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of the wet man.

  Petey leaned and gave York a good look-over. “Boy, why on earth did you feel the need to put your face on the receiving end of my fist? Who does that? You’d think being part hunter you’d already know to avoid that. Walden, you’ve got to have a serious sit-down with this one. Tell me the other twin is smarter.”

  Walden cracked up.

  York sighed.

  Ernest gave Petey a look that said he was still ready to go rounds.

  Sigmund just shook his head. “Petey, say good-bye to Ernest. You’re coming with me and not leaving my sight.”

  “I gotta drain the lizard,” said Petey with a shrug. “You coming to watch?”