Hexing with a Chance of Tornadoes: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Grimm Cove Book 2)

by Mandy M. Roth

  Her ability to find dark humor during a trying time made him smile. The next he knew, he was kissing the top of her head and then closing his eyes, continuing to hold her tightly to him.

  He felt the weight of someone’s stare on him and opened his eyes to find his best friend looking dumbfounded. Brett was standing there, his mouth agape as he blinked at Jeffrey.

  Stratton strolled up alongside Brett. “You look thunderstruck.”

  “I am,” said Brett. “Never seen him behave this way over a woman before.”

  With a shrug, Stratton bent near a dead body. “He’s not acting out of line for a shifter whose mate was in danger. I’m more shocked that he hasn’t tried to club her over the head and drag her off to a wolf den while shouting ‘mine.’”

  Jeffrey stiffened, jerking Dana against him harder.

  She grunted.

  His mate?

  No.

  That couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  He thought about the overwhelming urge he’d had to get to her. How his sole driving force was protecting her. Then he thought about what it had felt like when he’d first met her—when she’d punched him in the face. And how he’d spent two days basically begging her to go out with him.

  His eyes widened, but he didn’t release her even as the realization that Stratton’s words weren’t misguided struck him. They were right. The woman before him was his mate. It was the only thing that made sense.

  Brett blinked several times. “Is she…?”

  “Am I what?” asked Dana, easing back from Jeffrey somewhat. She glanced at his arm. “I got blood on you. Sorry.”

  He’d have focused more on the mate thing, but worry for her took root in him once more. He reached for her injured arm to assess the damage. What he found confused him. “You were hurt a minute ago. I know because I saw it with my own eyes.”

  She nodded. “Yes. The not-exactly-a-zombie ghoul thing slashed my arm open.”

  He ran his thumb over her upper arm. There was nothing there any longer. No torn flesh. No sign, other than blood, that she’d ever been injured. “Look.”

  She did. She then whipped around to face Brett. “Ohmygod, am I a ghoul now? Am I going to smell like that? Will I look like that?” Dana nudged the body of the ghoul closest to her with her foot, her nose wrinkling as she did. She also stared harder at the ghoul. “Is it me, or is it kind of greenish? Ohmygod, I’m going to turn into the Wicked Witch of the West!”

  Brett appeared confused as he shook his head. “What? No. You’re not a ghoul. Why would you think that?”

  “Because I’ve seen movies. Get bit by a vampire, you’re a vampire. Get bit by a werewolf and the next full moon, you can lick your own butt. I got scratched by a ghoul. I think one drooled on me too. Therefore, I’m a ghoul now.”

  Jeffrey nearly laughed at the way her mind worked, but he reminded himself that she hadn’t grown up in Grimm Cove, where supernaturals were the norm. “Legs, it doesn’t work that way.”

  She pointed to her arm. “How did that heal so fast then?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m happy it did.”

  Brett cleared his throat. “Dana, did you heal that quickly after the vampire attack?”

  “I didn’t get hurt in the vampire attack,” she said.

  Stratton was still bent near one of the creatures. “How fast do you normally heal?”

  Dana was quiet a moment before she tensed. “I, um, have never been hurt before today that I can remember. I mean, I’ve stubbed my toe and done things like that, but nothing that would require stitches or something.”

  Stratton stood. His gaze set on her. “What are you? I sense magik in you. It’s faint but there. It’s not your strong suit. What is?”

  She scoffed. “I’m human. Unless you believe Marcy, who claims my grandmother is a witch. Which is totally and completely absurd.”

  “Is it?” asked Stratton. He motioned to the bodies littering the ground. “How do you explain this? Humans can’t kill a ghoul with any kind of ease, on a clear day, with perfect conditions. When we got on the scene, there was dark magik coating the area. It was pitch black. We couldn’t see anything. Could you?”

  “No,” she said. She then stepped closer to Jeffrey once more.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “What is it, Legs?”

  “But I kind of sensed things. I just felt something coming at my face, put a hand outward, and caught a fist before it hit me,” she confessed. “That was odd. Are we sure I wasn’t infected with ghoulishness?”

  “We’re sure,” said the men together.

  Jeffrey rubbed her shoulder. “Legs, I’m not so sure your grandmother’s claim of being a witch is absurd. Do you know anything about your grandfather? Or your father?”

  She was quiet a moment. “Nonna doesn’t talk a lot about my grandfather. I never knew him. All I know is, he apparently liked to hunt a lot. She’s mentioned hunting a number of times over the years. That’s about it for him.”

  Jeffrey’s gaze snapped to Brett’s.

  Brett shook his head faintly. “You don’t think her grandfather was a hunter, do you?”

  “I already said he liked to hunt,” added Dana, sounding exasperated.

  Jeffrey drew her closer to him. “Legs, he means hunter as in slayer. The terms are often interchangeable. A slayer is someone who is born with the ability to stand against the supernatural. To go toe to toe with us. To police us, if you will.”

  “Dragos said something about slayers,” she said, her voice low.

  “Who?” asked Jeffrey.

  “Some creepy dude with a campy voice. He was here, telling that Abraham guy he’d rue the day he interfered in a feud that wasn’t his own. He even accused the guy of summoning me to Grimm Cove months ago,” she said with a shrug.

  “Others were here?” asked Jeffrey, looking at Brett. “Did you sense them?”

  “I couldn’t sense or smell much when we got here,” admitted Brett. “The stench from the ghouls was overpowering. But I didn’t hear anyone else either.”

  Stratton examined another body. “There was at least one vampire here. I can sense it. Maybe more. The other kill back that way was from a shifter, but I don’t think it was you, Jeffrey. I think another wolf-shifter was here. I noticed paw prints that way too, but they don’t match yours.”

  Dana lifted a hand. “The black wolf? Where is it? I hope he wasn’t hurt. I ran after him but lost sight of him when the darkness came. Then everything happened so fast that I forgot about him. I’d like it noted I’d make a horrible pet owner. I can’t keep anything safe and alive. I need to find him.”

  She went to move away from Jeffrey, but he caught her, keeping her close. “Legs, there are no other wolves here except for Brett and me.”

  She faced him fully. “There was a big black wolf here. It was here before the darkness came. I think it was trying to protect me—maybe even warn me away from the area.”

  “None of our pack was near here recently. I’d know,” said Jeffrey, and he would. As alpha, he was very aware of his pack members and could sense them with ease. “Anyone know a Dragos or an Abraham?”

  “No,” said Brett.

  Stratton checked another body. “I’ve heard stories about them. So have you. I thought they were myths.”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “I don’t know of any myths about them.”

  Stratton retrieved something from the ground near the closest body. “Sure you do. Stoker wrote about it. Well, kind of.”

  Jeffrey’s mind raced, and he snorted. “Bram Stoker? Dracula? Are you telling me Stoker’s story about Dracula was real and that the famed vampire is here in Grimm Cove? I can turn into a wolf, and I have trouble believing there is a real, honest-to-God Dracula.”

  “Not exactly,” said Stratton.

  Dana huffed. “You people like to give that explanation a lot.”

  “Us people?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Grimm Cove people. That
is the second time I’ve heard it this morning.”

  Stratton didn’t seem fazed. “About Stoker, he didn’t tell the entire story. And he dressed it all up as fiction. In reality, there was a chunk of it that was true to some extent. Other parts were wrong. From the way I heard it said, this was done on purpose. For instance, the part about how Dracula, or Vlad, came to be a vampire. From what I was told, it wasn’t from turning against God. It was because he and his young wife were attacked by a demon. A demon that lived off blood. One with the power to call forth other demons to serve him. Mindless hordes whose stench could be smelled for days later. Dracula survived—if you can call it that—ending up a vampire. His young wife did not live.”

  “Are you saying the demon who made Dracula is here?” asked Jeffrey, wanting to be sure he was following the man’s wild logic. “That it and its smelly horde are in Grimm Cove, and that they attacked Dana?”

  “I’m saying it’s a distinct possibility. Dragos’s name has come up more than once in various stories of the supernatural I’ve heard over the years. If they’re to be believed, he is powerful, feeds off blood, has minions he controls, and possesses dark magik.”

  That caught Jeffrey’s attention. “Enough to blanket this area in darkness?”

  “Yes,” said Stratton.

  “Shit,” whispered Brett. “I’m almost afraid to ask who Abraham is then?”

  “You could ask Austin,” said Dana matter-of-factly. “He knows him.”

  “What do you mean?” questioned Jeffrey, wanting to know what the manager of his bar had to do with it all.

  “Austin was here too. So were some other men,” she said, touching her chin. “Let me think. Um, Elis, Harker, and Brian? I think those were the names Abraham said.”

  A smug smile appeared on Stratton’s face. “Believe me now? Or do you think it’s coincidence that three Van Helsings just happened to be here as well? And if you read Stoker’s story, you’d recognize another surname too. Harker. In the story, Professor Van Helsing’s first name was—”

  Dana sucked in a big breath. “Abraham.”

  “You’re familiar with the story then?” asked Stratton.

  She nodded. “I got teased enough about it growing up because of my last name. It was really bad when I started dating a guy with the last name Harker in high school.”

  Jeffrey looked to Brett for clarification. While he’d been hot to trot for the woman, Jeffrey had not actually bothered to ask her surname. Didn’t seem imperative.

  Now it did.

  “Wait. There were three Van Helsings here?” she asked. “Who was the other one?”

  “You mean other two,” corrected Jeffrey.

  She shook her head. “No. Austin is one. I’m the other. So, who was the third?”

  Jeffrey took a giant step back from her. “What do you mean by you’re the other?”

  She pointed to herself. “Me. Dana Van Helsing.”

  “She’s a Van Helsing?” demanded Jeffrey of Brett.

  Brett came at him fast. “Calm down. I didn’t know. Poppy never mentioned her last name to me, and I didn’t think to ask.”

  “Guys?” asked Dana. “Why is this such a sore issue?”

  “Because I hate the Van Helsings,” snapped Jeffrey. “Every last one of them.”

  Her posture went rigid, and her green gaze hardened on him. “Is that so?”

  Jeffrey opened his mouth to speak, but Brett stepped between him and Dana. He stared at Jeffrey. “Brother, think hard before you open your mouth here. She strike you as the forgiving type?”

  “If by ‘forgiving’ you mean ‘has an air about her that says she could rip vital pieces off him,’ then yes,” said Stratton. “Want proof of what she’s capable of? She killed two of these ghouls. The rest have indications of large males being responsible or vampires and wolf-shifters. But two have markings on them that said someone with smaller hands than the others did it.”

  “I’d say I feel bad about doing it, but that would be a lie,” said Dana. “Now, Brett, kindly step aside. I very much want to hear all about how much Jeffrey hates every last Van Helsing.”

  With a sigh, Brett moved to the side.

  Jeffrey was all set to let her know just how much he loathed the Van Helsings—when he remembered how desperate he’d been to get to her. How worried he’d been that he’d be too late. And how it had felt seeing her arm ripped open.

  If he had any doubts as to who she was to him, they vanished. The truth settled over him, and for a split second, it felt like an albatross around the neck.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” he shouted. “My mate is a Van Helsing?”

  Dana recoiled. “Mate? Like what Brett and Poppy are to each other? Uh, no. I’m not your mate.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be the case,” said Jeffrey, the words coming out snider than he’d intended.

  Thirteen

  Jeffrey

  “Dana is Jeffrey’s mate?” asked Poppy, drawing a round of surprised gasps from every party present.

  Jeffrey hadn’t heard anyone approaching. That said something in itself. He’d been so fixated on Dana that he’d let his guard down.

  Brett’s eyes widened. “Poppy-seed, what are you doing out here?”

  Poppy and Marcy were just outside of the area where the darkness had been, staring in at the carnage. Poppy appeared stunned and sick to her stomach. She gulped as she stared at the bodies of the ghouls on the ground, and then stepped over one in a way that looked as though she was worried it might come back to life and grab her.

  Marcy pinched her nose, stepping over the ghoul as well, staying close to Poppy, their arms looped around one another. “They aren’t the best-smelling things, are they?”

  Brett leaped over two ghoul bodies at once and raced to his mate. He tried to usher her away from the area, but Poppy wasn’t having any of it.

  She artfully maneuvered out of her husband’s hold and went right for Dana. “You’re bleeding!”

  Dana tensed. “Um, not really anymore.”

  Poppy got to Dana and grabbed her, hugging her tight. “I was so worried about you. What happened? You’re hurt?”

  Dana had to practically pry Poppy from her just to answer. “I got a little turned around on my run, came across a black wolf, freaked out a bit but realized it was a shifter, and I thought he was one of Brett’s pack mates.”

  “He wasn’t,” said Jeffrey and Brett at the same time.

  Dana shot them both dirty looks.

  Brett put his hands up. “Sorry. Continue. When you’re done, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind about coming out here when she knew damn well there was something dangerous out here.”

  Marcy went to Brett and pushed lightly on him, pointing to one of the dead ghouls. “What is it?”

  “Ghoul,” said Brett.

  “Do they always smell like a mix of sulfur and rotten eggs?” she asked. “I once knew a man who lived two apartments down from mine when I was calling San Francisco home. He smelled the same. He didn’t really converse so much as he moaned and grunted. Think he was a ghoul?” she questioned, clearly keeping Brett occupied with questions while Poppy spoke with Dana.

  It worked.

  Marcy perked, seeming excited. “A worm just crawled out of that one’s eye.”

  Just then, the same bluebird she’d named on the porch of the Proctor House, the one that had whistled and walked back and forth, came swooping down. It grabbed the worm and took flight again.

  Marcy smiled. “The ghoul is giving back to nature. That was sweet of him. Rogelio deserved a treat for letting us know Dana was in danger. It was really nice of the ghoul to give him one. When I was younger, I’d keep worms in my pocket for birds but once I forgot about them and they went through the wash. That didn’t turn out well.”

  Brett glanced at Jeffrey and quirked a brow.

  Jeffrey shook his head. There was no figuring the woman out. She clearly lived in her own version of reality.

 
“Where are you hurt?” demanded Poppy of Dana.

  “I’m not hurt anymore,” returned Dana cautiously.

  Poppy tipped her head. “I don’t understand. That isn’t your blood all over your arm?”

  “No. It’s my blood,” said Dana, swallowing hard. “I just, well, I was hurt but now I’m not. One of those smelly not-exactly-a-zombie things ripped the heck out of my upper arm, more than once. But then it just sort of healed over instantly, pretty much.”

  Poppy grabbed Dana’s hands while she looked to Brett. “Ohmygod, is Dana infected with ghoul?”

  Stratton laughed and tried to hide it with a cough. “Don’t mind me. Easy to see why they’re friends. They think alike.”

  “Is she?” asked Poppy, her voice rising two octaves.

  “She’s not,” said Jeffrey before Brett could get the chance. He was still being tugged and pushed away from Poppy by Marcy.

  Jeffrey had to hand it to Marcy, she was handy at diverting the man’s attention.

  Poppy stared at him. “Why do you look mad about the fact she’s not infected with stinky ghoul?”

  “He apparently hates all Van Helsings,” answered Dana, the fight leaving her voice. “Me included, since I’m one.”

  For some reason, that bothered Jeffrey more than it should. He didn’t like knowing she didn’t care enough to snap back at him. If that fire in her wasn’t burning, did that mean she was indifferent to him?

  “I don’t understand. If you’re her mate, how can you hate her? And can I just point out how much you didn’t seem to hate her when you were at the house, doing your best to pry information out of me about her?” Poppy questioned, sounding as if she’d caught all of Dana’s inner fire and was now directing it at Jeffrey. “And why are you wearing nothing but a…is that a skirt?”

  “It’s a shirt.” He exhaled slowly. “And the rest is complicated.”

  Poppy stared harder at him. “Seems simple to me. Is she your mate or not, Jeffrey?”

  “Not,” said Dana, her voice barely there.

  “She’s my mate,” said Jeffrey evenly.

  “I’d argue with you, but I’m exhausted. I need to wash ghoul off me, and then I need to figure out who Abraham is, because his voice was kind of familiar to me. I can’t place it, though. Plus, he acted like he knew me. Said he was proud of me, even. And he was really worried about me getting to safety and Dragos staying away from me,” said Dana, making a move to walk away.