Do You Really Want to Haunt Me: A Happily Everlasting World Novel (Bewitchingly Ever After Book 3)

by Mandy M. Roth

  Betty began to rock back and forth and hum a merry tune before bending and lifting one of the haunted dolls that had been on display in the front window. The doll held an eerie resemblance to the photo of Morgan with dark hair, big eyes, and pale skin. Betty smoothed the doll’s dress and righted its hair in a loving manner. “Who’s a pretty little demonic spirit attached to this dolly? That’s right. You are.”

  Louis cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but did you say that doll has a demon attached to it?”

  Luc shook his head. “Not anymore. It used to years ago but it’s long since moved on to an item a child was more likely to play with in today’s day and age.”

  “One of them gaming boxes?” asked Petey, giving the doll the side-eye as if he didn’t quite believe there wasn’t anything demonic about it any longer.

  The doll’s eyes, which were made to open and close, popped open fully, and Petey leaped back so fast he hit another display unit. This one had glass bottles with various scenes built in them. Some had what looked like tiny fairy mounds and others had old-time pirate ships in them.

  The ship ones reminded York greatly of the ship in the bottle that Blackbeard had. Years ago, York had organized a prank that left the pirate trapped in his bottle for some time. While York had found the entire ordeal comical, Blackbeard had not, and since he wasn’t your average, run-of-the-mill ghost and had a lot of natural-born magic in him, making him angry had been very foolish.

  Louis hurried over to the bottles and began inspecting them, shaking his head in a disapproving manner at Petey as he did. “You’re lucky you didn’t break any. Two of them are portals to other magical realms.”

  “Shouldn’t that be locked away in a vault or something?” asked Petey, dropping a bottle that he’d only just picked up.

  Groaning, Louis removed the item from Petey’s reach and checked it over carefully. “They don’t play well near the other relics. And all signs pointed to me needing to go ahead and set some out on display. Guess Fate has something in store for them.”

  “Here’s to hoping it’s not the apocalypse,” said Petey before he reached out and touched one of the bottles that hadn’t fallen from the shelf. He lifted it and shook it, as if it were a snow globe. The scene was one depicting a small log cabin on a mountainside in a heavily wooded area. Leaves on the tiny ornate trees began to fall all over within the bottle, much like snowflakes would in a snow globe. “But that would make Arnold happy. Maybe we should break one just to give him a sporting chance at the end he’s been counting on.”

  Luc and Louis were quick to disarm the crazy old man of the bottle before he actually did trigger the end of days. It would be a very Petey thing to do.

  Louis was first to the item, and he held it close to his chest protectively. “I’ll need to call out to Old Man McCreedy’s place in the Blue Ridge Mountains. He’s going to wonder why he just had a freak earthquake with high winds.”

  Petey lifted a bushy brow. “That one is tied to that old fart’s place? Give it back. I’m gonna shake it some more.”

  Betty was still lovingly tending to the formerly possessed doll. She even kissed its forehead. “Protect her always. Never let the bad near her,” whispered Betty in her singsong voice. “Get her back to the start and to her mate before Dead Rising Day, when the magic of the day can hide the devil’s magic from others.”

  Everyone stopped and stared at her.

  She continued on, “Got to hide the flux of power from the others who won’t understand. Have to make the union of the body and the soul look like it’s a by-product of Dead Rising Day. Not because the devil willed it so.”

  Louis, who was still cradling Old Man McCreedy’s place, blinked several times. “I’m a little rusty on my Betty translations so I’m unclear if she’s talking about something made up, something from long ago, or maybe Morgan.”

  “Two out of three isn’t so bad, dear,” said Betty, her attention still on the doll.

  Luc let out on a long, semi-annoyed breath. “Betty, we discussed this before. I was very clear on what you could and could not reveal about Morgan’s situation.”

  “What situation?” demanded York, suddenly feeling as if he were wound tighter than a corkscrew.

  Betty’s gaze snapped to him. “Child, Luc swore to me you’re a bright boy. There are days I wonder if his rose-colored glasses for your family cloud his judgment.”

  “Did she just call me dim-witted?” asked York.

  “I do it all the time. Why should she be different?” Louis shrugged, lost his grip on the bottle, and dropped it. The bottle hit the ground and several trees fell over in it, just missing the log cabin.

  Petey laughed long and hard. “Serves that old goat right. He cheats at poker and he fibs about the size of his catch when fishing.”

  “You’re still upset he took a shot at you while you were in wolf form on his property,” said Luc, pulling Petey back from the bottle a second before Petey’s foot would have not-so-accidentally connected with it.

  Petey stepped back from Luc and rubbed his backside. “You ever try picking buckshot out of your butt? Ain’t fun at all.”

  Louis managed to get the bottle to the counter of the shop without further incident. “I’m going to need to talk to Virginia about baking McCreedy some pies for me to send out. Seems only right since I nearly leveled his house with trees. I still can’t believe he crossed the coven close to him to the point they cursed his land and tied its fate to this bottle. Even worse, if the bottle gets too close to the property, it and the property go boom.”

  “Cross?” said Petey with a snort. “Try was engaged to be married to the head of the coven long ago and started stepping out on her with another witch. You don’t cheat on a witch. Trust me. I didn’t, but someone lied to my sweetie and told her otherwise, and I’ve been paying the price for that for a very long time. I’m like an expert on just how vengeful a witchy woman can be.”

  Everyone nodded, including Betty.

  Petey certainly would know. At one point, he and York’s grandmother had been an item. York didn’t know the specifics of what had gone down, but he did know lies had been told to his grandmother and her temper had gotten the better of her tongue. She’d inadvertently cursed the man. Petey’d had that black cloud over him ever since.

  There was a spark between his grandmother and Petey still to this day, and they’d been spending more and more time together. York didn’t know where it all might lead, but he did hope his grandmother would find happiness. And she could do far worse than Petey. The man’s heart was pure—even if he did want to kick Old Man McCreedy’s cursed bottle.

  York had met McCreedy once when they’d needed to go to North Carolina to take a magical relic to the hunters there. McCreedy was a character all unto himself. Cranky and about as mountain as could be. He was country through and through. Not that York had a lot of room to talk.

  Betty stared up at Luc. “I’m going to miss Morgan when she’s gone.”

  York lurched forward. “Gone? To where? What do you mean?”

  Sadness touched her face. “She won’t live with us anymore. Luc said so. When the body and soul unite.”

  “Someone needs to tell me what, exactly, is going on with Morgan,” he snapped.

  Petey pulled out a fishing lure from his pocket and began to clean under his fingernails with it. “Why? You think she’s the enemy.”

  “Do not,” said York.

  “Do so,” argued Petey.

  Luc groaned. “Enough.”

  Petey put the lure back in his pocket while sticking his tongue out at York. “Do so.”

  The man got the last word on the topic.

  Luc gently put a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “You’ve been very talkative about Morgan and her situation. While I know you sometimes get a little confused lately, I also know you well enough to know you’d never put Morgan at risk. You love her. She’s been an important part of your journey of learning to value human life.”

 
Nodding, Betty went back to centering her attention on the doll. “She was so tiny when I first met her. Looked like such a tasty morsel. Millie said I couldn’t eat her. That she wasn’t a snack. She was a sweet, sweet baby that was important to the devil. A baby we were to protect.”

  “Millie?” asked Louis, before York could think to do so.

  Petey leaned and spoke out of the side of his mouth as if spilling a grand secret. “Millie is Mildred. One of Betty’s sisters.”

  “Mildred knew Morgan as a baby?” asked York. “Why didn’t Morgan mention that before?”

  “She don’t know it. Millie doesn’t live here and hasn’t come to visit Betty since Morgan came to be here in town,” said Petey, still doing the world’s worst version of whispering. “Been waiting for the right time.”

  Betty nodded. “The time is just about here. Millie is on her way. Should be here before we know it. I just hope Morgan doesn’t get killed—again. I should have made sure York was with her when I reunited her with her body. He could have kept her safer.”

  Luc gasped. “Her body isn’t in the chapel anymore?”

  Betty hugged the doll tighter. “No. She has it. She’s in it. Not like the skin suits some demons wear, but as herself. I don’t think she’d have picked it if given a chance. I mean, it is human after all and humans only have two eyes. How do they see behind them with only two eyes and heads that don’t swivel all the way around?” She clutched the doll tighter. “My skin suit itches.”

  The men shared a look that said they didn’t want to know more about Betty and her skin suit.

  York’s magic—which wasn’t his go-to response to anything, as he took after his father more than his mother, who hailed from a long line of powerful witches—decided to pick then to make itself known. It buzzed and then beat at him from within, as if it were a caged animal on the verge of breaking free.

  Now wasn’t the time to lose it.

  Morgan was on her own in the past, alive, and in danger. She wouldn’t be getting another do-over. There would be no more saving her body in any special hiding place in hell. If she died again, she’d be the Collective’s pawn, their prisoner for eternity.

  His fingers began to tingle as he drew natural energy from the Earth. The power filled him, putting his shark on edge. He bristled with the overwhelming need to release the building magic, but doing so could and would be dangerous.

  “C-call Momma and Mémé,” he managed through clenched teeth as he shot his twin a look of desperation. The women would be able to get him under control. There was no telling what would happen if his magic was left unchecked. He could very well make Petey’s tampering with the cursed bottle appear tame.

  Louis ran for the antique phone he kept at the shop since he eschewed most of the amenities that modern times had brought about.

  In the blink of an eye, Betty was there, yanking the phone from Louis’s grip with one hand while she held the doll in the other. Her arm went up and up and up, stretching in a way that defied logic. By the time she was done, the phone was across the shop, while Betty remained near the counter with Louis. York wasn’t sure which he should be more shocked by: the fact Betty’s arm could do that or the proof of just how long the cord on his brother’s phone was.

  Betty’s face showed nothing but tenderness. “No calls for help, dear. Let him blow.”

  “What?” asked Louis. “He could take out the entire state.”

  “And turn into York hamburger,” offered Petey. “That will be hard to get out of the drapes.”

  “Nonsense,” she returned.

  Luc moved in to assist. He attempted to ease Betty back from Louis and get the phone receiver. Neither worked. Never a good sign when the devil couldn’t control a demon. “Betty, Louis is right. York is a danger right now. Help is needed.”

  “All that is needed is for him to go to her,” said Betty, standing her ground.

  Petey sauntered over to the phone receiver and pried it gently from Betty’s grip.

  Her head whipped around and her gaze locked on him. She looked like a stone-cold predator. Not someone’s great-grandmother.

  Petey flashed a silly smile. “Don’t go giving me that sass, woman. I ain’t gonna let him call anyone. I understand what you’re saying. I speak fluent bat-crazy. It’s kind of my thing.”

  Betty nodded, obviously agreeing that Petey was nuts.

  Petey nodded to York. “Let your magic do what feels right. She’s trying to tell you that you have the power in you to get to your mate. Don’t matter what time she’s in. Let the magic lead you to her. I’d tell you not to overthink but I’m talking to you, not Louis, so there ain’t much chance of that happening.”

  Had everyone gone plum crazy? Couldn’t they all see how on edge he was?

  As he began to panic more, his magic increased. It reached a level he’d never before felt and he spun fast, bending down in the fetal position, worried he’d explode with power and kill everyone around him. He didn’t want anyone else hurt on account of him.

  “Get the contract!” yelled Luc. “And remember there are two Morgan’s back there now. The one of old and the one you’ve come to know. Save the Morgan of the now—of the future!”

  There was a boom of sorts, but it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting. When it cleared, there was only the slightest hint of remaining magic clinging to the air.

  York stayed hunched over for a moment more, worried that he’d look up to find his friends and brother were no more. When he finally mustered the courage to open his eyes and lift his head, he found they were indeed gone—but so was everything that had been around him.

  The shop was gone and as far as he could tell, so was Hedgewitch Cove. Tall buildings surrounded him now, as did a mass of people who barely paid any mind to him, despite the fact he was a six-and-a-half-foot-tall adult male bent over in the center of a busy sidewalk.

  As he soaked in the sights around him, it clicked. Betty had been right. His magic had done the impossible. It had whisked him into the past. He was no expert on the ’80s, but he felt secure enough to say he was standing in that decade.

  He stood quickly, his body on the verge of a shift. His shark side wanted to locate Morgan as much as he did. It took him a second to calm himself enough to think rationally. When he did, he remembered having Morgan’s billfold in his back pocket. He withdrew it and looked at the address listed on the identification.

  He then stepped out in front of a man in a business suit, who was on an obscenely large cellphone, his arm outstretched, with a hard-shell briefcase in his hand as he tried to hail a taxi.

  The minute York stepped out and into the street, an oncoming taxi came to a dead stop. The man with the phone tried to get in but York growled, his shark side still there, just below the surface. Whatever the man saw made him think twice about pushing York.

  Instead, the man nodded and stepped back. “It’s all yours, buddy.”

  York got in and showed the identification to the driver and then pulled out his own wallet and withdrew a large bill. “Can you take me here?”

  “I can, but I don’t take funny money,” said the man.

  “Funny money?” asked York.

  “That’s no real hundred-dollar bill,” said the cab driver.

  It was.

  York looked at the bill and realized it was a newer one-hundred-dollar bill. Something that wasn’t in circulation in the ’80s. To the driver, it probably did look a lot like money that came in a board game, not real. Quickly, York looked into Morgan’s billfold and found more than enough money there. He pulled out a hundred from hers and held it up. “That work?”

  “It does,” said the man with a grin. “I’ll break every law to get you there in record time for that.”

  “Good. See that you do. A life depends on it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Morgan walked at a brisk pace on the sidewalk, tears stinging her eyes as she tried and failed to make sense of what was happening to her. It began to drizzle
, and she came to a sudden stop as the water brushed her skin. It was something she’d not felt in thirty years.

  As much as she used to long to feel rain and heat and anything, having it all happen at once, without an understanding as to why, was too much. Everything she’d come to know as her reality had been turned upside down. A deep nagging told her this was serious. Life-or-death kind of serious, and since she’d been dead to start with, that was worrisome. As the light rain continued to sprinkle down upon her skin, she stopped long enough to take inventory of her situation.

  The longer she stood in place, the more she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t the same existence she’d been living, for lack of a better word. This was different. This was like when she was alive. A sure sign she was right came when her stomach rumbled loudly. Hunger pains weren’t something she’d experienced in thirty years.

  She’d worry about eating later. For now, she needed to find a way back to the time she’d left. Back to Hedgewitch Cove. If she didn’t, she had a sneaking suspicion history would repeat itself and she’d die all over again tonight.

  No one in their right mind looked forward to that. While her previous death had been relatively painless, she knew that had been Luc’s doing. That he’d intervened to save her that pain. Her gut said Luc wouldn’t be there to help this time around.

  His words about the contract her parents signed continued to play in her head. Those words were the only thing keeping her going. All she wanted to do was find a small out-of-the-way spot and sob.

  That wasn’t like her.

  She wasn’t a lick-her-wounds, cry-over-spilled-milk kind of girl. Yet that was what she’d been reduced to. That served to drive her, to make her want to push forward and figure a way out of her current predicament. She just needed to figure out what, exactly, had occurred.

  She thought about the last thing she could recall. The antiques shop and Betty popped into her mind, as did the brooch and the coin. Both items were still tucked safely into the small pocket of her skirt. There was little room for doubt. They meant something. She just wasn’t sure what.