by Kat Quinn
Recap: Dizzy's story so far
In book one, “I’m Cursed,” we meet our charming, completely sane, and not at all a Disaster Zone Jones heroine, Dizzy. While just minding her own business, trying to eat a turkey club at The Wood Liquor (the pub where everybody goes to do pub stuff), some kind of crazy nonsense happens. She slams down face-first into that tasty sandwich (Luckily, Lilly, the bartender, total babe, and occasional “giant parakeet named Duke,” didn’t seem to mind much.), and gets the heck out of dodge to throw herself a pity party.
After all, having your hotel burned down, then getting your tits doused with hot coffee while breaking some old lady’s walking stick, THEN getting those coffee-burnt tits sunburnt, AND having to fight off some random asshole’s misplaced curse is already a bit much for one day. Add to that not getting to eat a proper meal and you can’t blame a gal for giving up, right?
So, out the bar she goes!
But of course, Dizzy, beautiful creature fully in control of all her limbs and brain squiggles that she is, doesn’t leave alone. A man wearing a unicorn-themed polo starts cursing up a storm while getting dragged behind her! And he brought friends! Gosh. What a day. Potentially getting stabbed to death by a whole herd of homicidal hunks. Really the proverbial maraschino cherry on top of this whole sucktacular sundae of life. Except if it WAS a maraschino cherry, Aria probably would have swooped in and eaten the darn thing.
Oh, did I mention Aria? Aria is Dizzy’s constant companion and literal best friend for life. She’s but a wee thing with a long, slender, ferret-like body, big poofy tail, fox-like face, and bat wings. Oh, and she’s completely pitch black. She also likes to sing and hum and squeak a bunch.
Anywho, Dizzy and Aria are immediately taken in by the herd of hunks, who all turn out to be pretty swell guys!
We’ve got Monty, defacto leader based entirely on his big brother nature and incessant need to feed people. As the caretaker of the group, he’s also their healer, manning a clinic inside the shop they run together, The Tea Kettle and Cauldron. Monty’s also big on plants and has some naturalism abilities, allowing him to tend to and identify plants and their uses instinctively. Oh, and he is physically tethered to Dizzy, hence being forced to follow her as she fled the scene of her turkey club crimes. Monty’s also pretty close with the group’s dog, a little white French Bulldog named Colonel Stubbs.
Zeke is the resident genius, able to Frankenstein any kind of magic together to make something new and unexpected. He’s the one who accidentally made the charms that somehow tied the whole group to Dizzy, initially. Zeke is a man of few words, but you’d better follow his instructions if you want to be called a good girl. Interestingly, the man who speaks very little is now constantly barraged with the endless and absurd stream of thoughts Dizzy can’t stop herself from having.
Lin, mischievous scoundrel and incorrigible flirt that he is, seems to be quite taken with our bizarre and uninhibited heroine. Beneath his wicked facade, Lin really does have mostly okay intentions, using his ability to seek out the truth as a way of finding people most in need of assistance. There’s also just the teensy little issue that Lin shares all of Dizzy’s physical sensations, which can be a bit troublesome when she decides to get a bit frisky with Zeke and Monty, sending Lin into a near-orgasmic coma while Connor gets stabbed in the guts.
Speaking of, Connor is just the sweetest little cinnamon roll in all the land, as well as Monty’s younger foster brother. Poor little angel baby has real bad PTSD from a childhood filled with abuse, and a body full of the scars to prove it. He saw his father kill his mother right in front of him after they got high off some kind of drug, and Connor was unable to hold back the nightmares inside him; unable to stop them from ripping his crazed father to shreds. Connor has impeccable control of illusion, so much so that he is sometimes able to make things truly real, and has mediocre telekinetic capabilities. Sometimes his eyes go pitch black and he gets kind of spooky, but never mind that, he’s still our little cinnamon roll.
Last up, we’ve got Kieran, a half-breed wolf shifter with alchemical abilities and a penchant for wearing kilts full-time. If you need to shape metal in a flash, or, for instance, use metal to create a flash, he’s your guy. Kieran tends to run a little hot under the collar, unable to control his emotions even before he was saddled with sharing Dizzy’s, but he’ll always defend his pack ferociously. When he shifts into his wolf form, it’s at least 4 feet tall and covered in red fur, quite unusual for any wolf, shifter or not. It’s even more unusual that he is both a shifter and has magic; even magic that he can use no matter what form he finds himself in.
Together, they take Dizzy under their wing when they realize she’s basically a victim of constant assaults via absorbing errant curses intended for other targets. Oh, and because David comes out of the woodwork and tries to kill or capture her (his goal isn’t entirely clear.).
Did I forget to mention David?
Yes, David is a shadowy dude with glowing red eyes and penchant for being the disturbing kind of crazy whose thoughts are broken and full of malice. He’s been stalking Dizzy for a while, bent on keeping his promise, darling. David’s the one who stabbed our poor little Connor, and he’s also the bad bad boy our ragtag gang of heroes battled and confronted at the end of book one. Thankfully, Lilly (that aforementioned bartender and total babe) and her grandmother, Miss Fern (A psychic, of sorts) gave them a stone to make a light barrier to keep that shadowy David inside. Unthankfully, David got out and escaped to come back another day.
But it seems like maybe David is a victim, too, as we learn through some strange dreams Dizzy has of David’s memories. Right at the end of book one, we’re given a glimpse into his life as a still fully-human teen, where David’s mother somehow forces his body to lock up so bad that he’s unable to breathe, before breaking his arm and forcing him to stay locked in a basement.
Before Dizzy went on the run, David was her only friend. On the night of her sixteenth birthday, though, things went terribly wrong and, true to her full name, became a real disaster. David ended up in a coma, his greenhouse went up in flames, and David’s mom tried to lock Dizzy away.
Now that he’s a semi-psychotic shadow, it seems like every time he shows up, something bad happens. And anyone who happens to get slashed by David is infected with some sort of black sickness, which only Dizzy and Connor are able to detect and eradicate. We don’t know what would happen if they were too late, but the consensus so far seems to be “nothing good.”
But never mind that, because book one ended happy! The gang used some of Lin’s ill-gotten intel to help spruce up a blank slate (non-magical) clinic that was in jeopardy of being shut down, and quite a few of them got their groove on in one way or another. Everyone, actually, except for Monty.
Now on to book two!
Contents
Recap: Dizzy's story so far
Copyright Kat Quinn
Dedication
1. Dizzy
2. Dizzy
3. Monty
4. Connor
5. Lin
6. Dizzy
7. Dizzy
8. Monty
9. Dizzy
10. Kieran
11. Lin
12. Lin
13. Zeke
14. Monty
15. Monty
16. Lin
17. Dizzy
18. Dizzy
19. Connor
20. Lin
21. Kieran
22. Zeke
23. Monty
24. Connor
25. Dizzy
26. Dizzy
27. Lin
28. Dizzy
29. Kieran
30. Monty
31. Dizzy
32. Monty
33. Di
zzy
34. Kieran
35. Monty
36. Dizzy
37. Kieran
38. Monty
39. Monty
40. Zeke
41. Connor
42. Dizzy
43. Monty
44. Dizzy
45. Monty
46. Dizzy
47. Monty
48. Zeke
49. Kieran
50. Dizzy
51. Dizzy
52. Lin
53. Zeke
54. Dizzy
55. Zeke
56. Dizzy
57. Monty
58. Lin
59. Kieran
60. Dizzy
61. Zeke
62. Kieran
63. Lin
64. Kieran
65. Monty
66. Zeke
67. Kieran
68. Dizzy
69. Dizzy
70. Dizzy
71. Dizzy
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Afterword
About the Author
More Books by More Authors
More by Kat Quinn
Copyright Kat Quinn
Copyright © 2020 by Kat Quinn
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For more information:
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[email protected]
Interior illustrations created by Kat Quinn
Cover artwork and design by Kat Quinn
This book is distributed exclusively via Amazon. If it was acquired by any other means, it was done so illegally. Please support creators and purchase our work, or we won’t be able to continue making it.
Dedication
For the assholes in my family that think I’m an incompetent fuckup and refuse to understand that I just see and nurture a different kind of beauty in the world. Spite fuels me to prove you wrong, even though you endlessly ignore it. Fuck you all.
Also, this one goes out to tacos, without which I would cease to exist.
1. Dizzy
Lin languidly slides his hand up along the exposed skin of my side, keeping me pinned under his weight, my legs trapped between his. Sweat glistens lightly on his bare chest, my eyes caressing every angle of his chiseled body. Like shimmering, milky candy on a yellow string, the necklace that helps keep him grounded in his own mind when our physical link tries to take over, dangles temptingly.
“Too slow again, Love,” he taunts. Somehow, getting teased by a cheetah for being a slug doesn’t seem so bad if the punishment is a hotty hot McHotterson all mashed up on my body like a double heap of creamy dream potatoes. Mmm, potatoes.
Then the dingus licks my fuckin’ nose and EW. NO THANKS. Boys are gross.
Lin gracefully jumps to his feet and prances away to a distance safe from any revenge I could quickly cook up. Unfortunately, that recipe seems to be in my other jacket and there aren’t any instant ramen vengeances conveniently lying around. My payback will just have to wait!
“AGAIN,” Kieran roars from just outside the sparring area.
“Uggghhhhh,” I groan. My joints groan, too. “If I pretend to be dead, can I just lay here for like five minutes?” From behind scrunched-up eyelids, I can just barely see the agitated displeasure of my keyed-up wolf shifter.
Ever since we were attacked a couple of weeks ago by my apparently-not-in-a-coma-and-possibly-also-trying-to-kill-or-kidnap-or-who-knows-what former neighbor/ex-almost-first-boyfriend, Kieran’s been crazy about making us all practice self-defense. Every morning before breakfast, every evening before dinner, any spare moment in-between...the man’s obsessed!
And I’m terrible.
“Get up. Run through it again!” Kieran gives no quarter. “If David comes back I will NOT have any of us blindsided again. Now get up, Fireball, or I’ll get you up.” He pauses, “Do it while I’m still asking nicely.”
I heave a sigh, but accept defeat and crack both eyes open. Last time, he sprayed me with the hose. While it’s only just barely autumn, it’s definitely chilly enough that I’d prefer not to keep getting my ass handed to me while soaking wet.
Ever the gentleman, Lin steps forward and offers his hand to help me to my feet. Ah ha! My revenge! I yank myself up, quick as a slingshot full of firecrackers, releasing my tongue to slobber on any inch of skin it can reach. Just so happens that ends up being basically all of his neck and part of his cheek, thank you very much. Unfazed by this assault, Lin reaches his other arm around my back and pulls me in close, whispering seductively. “Promises, promises, Love.”
And then the fucker sticks his whole goddamned tongue right in my ear.
“Get back here, you scoundrel!” I yell as he darts away, cackling at his skilled rebuttal. It suddenly doesn’t seem like such a hassle to try and launch another attack at my designated foe as I prepare my legs for a leap towards the enemy.
“ENOUGH.” Kieran demands, crossing his thick arms, “Get your fucking shit together, both of you! This is not the time to fucking play!”
“Oh, lighten up, sourpuss,” Lin rolls his eyes, “taking thirty seconds to lift our spirits won’t hurt anyone. We’ve been at this for aaaaaaages already!” He drolls.
Kieran glares at Lin, arms still crossed.
“Yeesh, fine,” Lin relents, hands raised in surrender. He looks back to me, “Ready for another go, Love?”
I shrug reluctantly. “No, not really, but it doesn’t look like high lord butt kick beefcakeington is gonna let us off the hook til I land a hit, so we might as well keep at it or suffer his wrath.” We both know I’m not landing a single hit, though.
Just like they taught me, I raise both fists to protect my face. Always protect the face, they said. And then they kept saying it again and again until the never-ending stream of pinches and flicks and pokes finally drove it home. My upper thighs burn just slightly as my knees bend to lower my center of gravity, lending more stability in case they try to knock me down for the billionth time. Yes, some lessons apparently need to be learned the hard way.
Instinctively, I shift my weight to the right and block to the left as Lin bounds forward and aims a punch where my gut just was. Light on my feet, I dodge a step backwards, avoiding his follow-up kick to my shins. By Kieran’s logic, if Monty can heal it, punches aren’t worth pulling since they won’t be pulled when the fights are real. If the fights get real again.
Lin’s moves are fluid and seamless, flowing one into the other with the grace and coordination of a practiced prize-winning ballerina of butt-kicking. Still, at worst, he only barely manages to graze me with any of his attacks.
“FIGHT BACK, DIZZY,” Kieran demands. I glare at him from the corner of my eye, still managing to lean back at exactly the right moment to avoid a cheap swing from my opponent. It doesn’t matter how many times they make me practice, this is always where it goes wrong and he knows it. “YOU TOO, CONNOR,” he shouts at the other pair, Zeke and Connor, sparring on the other side of the lawn. Monty got released early for breakfast duty, per usual, which would be totally unfair if his food wasn’t so darn good. I consider Monty’s tasty choms an adequate apology for having to go through this fight junk every day.
Knowing how it’s all going to end up anyway, I still look carefully for an opening. Dodge, block, block, dodge, spin; a few more moves and a window appears when Lin kicks out and becomes a flamingo relying on only one leg to stay standing. My side-step is perfect, so much so that I manage to almost effortlessl
y glide all up in his business without resistance. Don’t think about it Dizzy, just do; let the movements be what moves you.
Instinct kicks in with my kick, which I’m hoping to land on the back of Lin’s knee so he ends up on the ground instead of me.
But it doesn’t happen; it never happens. I’m barely inches away from him, eyes decidedly on the prize, but something still goes wrong. Miraculously, I manage to slip on the completely un-slippery grass, knocking the wind out of myself as my back, yet again, power high-five’s the ground like they’re best fucking friends.
Time to half-fill some balloons and string up some damp streamers; it’s pity-party o’clock! My hands and feet slam up and down against the ground as I throw myself a nice little temper-tantrum; oh, sure, NOW my hits land. Of course.
The world is drenched in a growling darkness that suits my mood. No, wait, that’s just Kieran, standing over me and blocking out the sun.
“Get up. In an attack, no one will stand by and wait for you to be ready, so GET. UP.”
“No, fuck off!” I growl right back, “I’m done with this!”
“GET UP!” Kieran yells again.
I swing a fist in his direction, and despite him literally hovering right over me, I manage to punch myself in the face instead. “THAT’S IT. FUCK THIS!” Furious, frustrated, and just fucking tired, I stomp to my feet and fling both hands forward in an attempt to push Kieran down. It doesn’t work, and I face-plant in the grass again.
Resuming my temper-tantrum, hoping that wild flailing will somehow win the day, the only damage I manage is to my ankle as a particularly hard kick to the ground results in pain jolting through it. “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANY MORE!” Hot tears spring up in the corners of my eyes, “I’m trying. I’m really trying, I promise, but this is stupid and I hate it and this is clearly impossible. I can’t even hit one of you by accident!” Defeated, not even enough fight left in me to keep screaming, my tone becomes blunt. “I’m done. Fuck off.”
