Pumpkin Bride: Brides of the Hunt: A Brides of the Hunt Holiday Novel
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Pumpkin Bride
Brides of the Hunt: A Brides of the Hunt Holiday Novel
Jeanette Lynn
Jeanette Lynn
Copyright © 2020 Jeanette Lynn
Pumpkin Bride
© 2020 Jeanette Lynn
All Rights Reserved
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It is the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and or distributed for commercial or noncommercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked ownership of all trademarks and word marks mentioned in this book
Dedicated to Peanut Butter Cups
Like my Neanderthal, I love you dearly but sometimes you give me heartburn.
Hah!
This one's for the spooky season, Halloween candy, and all you fabulous, crazy witches out there!
Mwah!
Pumpkin Bride
Witches & goblins and ghoulies, things that go, "EEP!" in the night. It's Halloween! Mallory couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten all dolled up and loaded up on candy, embracing the spooky season spirit.
There were just a few problems with her getting her candy giving groove on.
One, the apparent lack of trick or treaters this chilly, winter wonderland living night.
Two, the guy parading around in that funky suit acting like he was going to cause trouble.
Three, if someone didn't take this candy away from her soon there might not be any left to hand out!
The curvy, costumed witch isn't quite ready for the town's tales of things furry that roam around these parts to be put to the test.
One well aimed pocket full of candy, a pair of bumbling furballs, one gross misunderstanding followed by another, and Miss Mallory Allegra Bute finds herself on a one-way trip to a strange place, a land of ice and snow and beasts, colder than the small mountain town she resides in.
The Pumpkin Bride, a Lo denaii Happy Halloweenie!
In the words of a few tragically confused Lo denaii, "Tricksies and Treatsies, no chimken feetsies!"
Chapter 1
Was I crazy for standing out here waiting for the few stragglers for trick or treaters desperate enough to venture out into the cold and gloomy for a few measly pieces of candy per house on this quiet, wood cabin lined lane? Yes. Most definitely yes, I was. And my butt did not skimp this year with the Halloween treats. Full sized candy bars, two per trick or treater, and none of that cheap stuff. I’d splurged. May this be the house that is fondly thought of come next spooky season. It was my day of birth, after all, I could pass out candy and freeze my butt off if I wanted to.
This was the first Halloween I’d had off in... Geesh, I couldn’t remember the last holiday I’d had off in years. And considering that meant I hadn’t really celebrated my own birthday in so long I’d felt a bit lost at not just picking up takeout, a random book from the slim pickings at the supermarket book aisle that looked enticing, and a small cheesecake just for me, my befuddled supermarket fumbling and overindulgence in all things sweet, salty, and or cheesy and carb loaded, and fat stack of half-naked man on the cover reads this year, spoke volumes.
Taking in a deep breath of crazy cold mountain air, a small smile tipped my lips. The long hours, canceled weekend plans because something came up, all of that’s changed now after my recent venture into the suddenly unemployed. It was okay, I had a bit saved up, even after I’d bought this rusted metal roofed, crumbling wood cabin and made it livable. I was fortunate to have worked all those years and actually have something to show for it. I’d have to get a job eventually, by the beginning of next year for sure so my Oh Crap fund was not completely depleted, but it would be alright. I still had the portion I’d inherited from the sale of Mom and Dad’s place after they’d passed, and what I’d socked away little by little over all those damn years scrambling at the office.
This was... different. Cleverly hidden nook of a town, back to nature type backwoods living in a cabin in the middle of nowhere was nice, quiet. I felt like I could think.
Who was I fooling? I was still scared. Who wouldn’t be in my shoes? I’d been thrust into this new existence, this state of joblessness, with next to no notice. I’d had absolutely no idea the company was going to go under. It had come as a bit of a shock. One day I was working too much and wondering if that pit in my stomach was heartburn, cramps, the beginnings of an ulcer, too much coffee, that onion bagel I’d eaten hours before, or what, the next I was staring at the empty seat in my tiny nook of a kitchen in the apartment I was paying way too damn much for, wondering just what I’d done with my life other than work, work, work. Savings aside, what else did I have to show for those years wasted?
A noise to my left had me glancing up. Perking up, tipping my wide brimmed black hat I’d crocheted myself with my recently acquired hooking skills, ahem, thank you very much, I couldn't say who was more excited at the thought of a gaggle of costumed cuties with sweet voices requesting a free sugar high to chuck candy at scrambling up my porch.
Nothing.
A part of me slumped inside. Phooey.
Just the wind, or maybe some critter or such. I couldn’t be sure and wasn’t up to snuff on all the things rummaging around in the foliage in these parts. I had a few books on the area but had yet to crack any of them open. Aside from working off the pattern for my hat and the agreement on the cabin, I hadn’t read anything else in weeks. This small rebellion made my lips twitch.
Yep. Not trick or treaters, just the wind blowing stuff about. Disappointment filled me but it was momentary. It wasn’t too late, not just yet. There was still time left to foist the half bowl of treats in my lap on some poor, hapless adult chaperoning rambunctious minors. Seriously, they’d be doing these thick thighs and bigger bottom of late a favor. I’d probably eaten my weight in candy already and it was starting to show. Ugh. The fun side effects of overindulgence. I missed the days of a fast metabolism and sticks for stems. Honestly, really, where the hell had all that time gone? If I could turn the clock back, I’d be doing a lot of things differently.
Another gust of wind blew past and I shivered a little.
Part of the appeal around this tiny little cold weather town was the fact it was out in the middle of nowhere, possibly not quite yet even a blip on a map. Just, you know, not so fun waiting around for naught for someone to come begging for sweets on Halloween. This was candy time. Come, heathens, take these damned treats, I thought, snagging up another Franken-peanut butter cup thing to slowly unwrap it and pop another creamy cup into my mouth. Oh my god, yum.
A soft sigh left me as I chewed.
Mm. Mm. Mm.
I wasn’t getting any younger, sad to say, ugh, and I’d be paying for my candy consumption this night, totally and completely and I knew it but, one, my birthday, and, two, trick or treat, and, three, smell my feet you looming ten more extra pounds to top me off.
“Werf it,” I mumbled around a mouthful, then snorted out a laugh. Big bottomed girls would not have a song if someone out there wasn’t interested in a lady on the more junk in the trunk, generously proportioned side.
One peek down at my fingers, all those years of day in an
d day out holed up inside an air conditioned building, the ghostly pale, disgustingly soft skin I had to show for it, I could have been a ghost, no costume needed. Fingers wiggling, I was glad I hadn’t painted the rest of me green like my face. Who wanted to taste body paint with their sugary goodness? Blech. The green stuff caked on my mug, gunking up my face, was quick to smear. On my hands, I’d be painting everything witchy green with it.
Another noise, the snap of a twig and something more, absent of that satisfying crunch of little snow boots hurrying down the dirt trail that served as a sidewalk, rent the air and I stilled. More silence. Licking the chocolate evidence from my lips, careful of the face paint lining the edges of my mouth, I grunted, frowning in dismay.
Seriously, I might just end up stuck with all this loot. As if to prove my point, I shook the bowl. And the need to buy bigger pants.
Maybe if I’d settled down and had a few kiddos of my own they could help me with this bowl of temptation, but Mr. Right had just never come along. Grimacing, I folded the half of the wrapper over the remaining peanut butter cups in the package and set them down on the small patio table I’d set up next to my chair for my cell phone and glass of tea. What a depressing thought—I’m all alone.
I supposed I’ve always been alone, though now I was just... feeling it. Even when Mom and Dad were alive, the second I reached adulthood I was more or less in this with just lil ol’ me. One quick peek down at my candy and my sugar filled gut churned a little. Wouldn’t be finding a Mister if I kept stuffing my face. Was that not Mother’s shtick? No one wants a bigger girl, hun, slow down. The urge to finish the already opened candy and then another just to spite her, god rest her soul, hit me hard. Just say no, Mal.
A series of grumbling grunts, low but loud enough it drew my attention in the quiet of this eerily bleak Hallow’s Eve, had me glancing up to watch a rather tall, dark figure with a thick jacket on and fuzzy looking pants this far out traipse across the way.
It was kinda spooky out, as if to set the mood for this exact moment. It’d grown dark fast in the last hour, but I could still make out a shadow of a figure.
A weird noise sounded, making me jump slightly, but it was the flash of fur that had me pausing, glancing up absently once more as I caught that hint of a peek of fluff puffing up and out. Someone was walking around wearing a fluffy fur coat and pants? My gaze darted about in search of something to wipe my chocolate sticky index finger and thumb on and shed some light on the situation. Not only was I napkin free but I’d forgotten to bring my trusty flashlight out with me. As far as I’d been aware, I hadn’t seen a need to bring a light with.
There’d been talk of happenings around here. I had no doubt that was in fact a grown man playing childish games. Or perhaps a woman—we were known to cause our own share of ridiculousness—who was I to just presume. However, knowing what I did about the goings on around these here parts, and given the insane height and build of the interloper, I had my money on a dude. Gossip held well no matter where you went. This little hole in the middle of nothingness was no different.
People went missing, unexplained occurrences. Uhm, hello, middle of nowhere in the snow, people. Crap could and just might happen. The typical Big Foot, Yeti hype hung around. Though I dismissed it for what it was, I thought that part of it charming. I’d picked this place specifically for the frequency of beastie stories and the hokey tales. It was kinda kitschy yet whimsical. I was a bit of a Cryptid lover, truth be told, if a closeted one. I had a shelf full of paranormal, anthropomorphic beastie romances stowed away towards the back of my varied romance novel collection and a few Sasquatch plushies and Yeti dolls to guard over my loot. It was all just so fascinating, the very idea of it, and in my opinion, fun to daydream about. A big bad possessive man-beastie scooping me up to take off with me, claiming me all for his own, cherishing me above all else. Yeah, it was kind of caveman-ish yet hot. I was totally down for some of that.
But, uhm, yeah, no one wanted to hear about that lady in the old Wickham place and her odd love of things furry or folklore-mythical—I’d sound as silly as the gossips at the local shop did, as kooky as the tourist peddlers. So, I’ve kept mum, and simply enjoyed my reading and the odd documentary that catches my eye.
I was pushing forty and the give a damn was starting to bust—no reason I couldn’t love what I did, fly that freak flag—I just chose to do so in the privacy of my own home, because I was loath to hear crap about the things that made my little heart sing. I just wanted to like what I liked and be happy. Everyone else could go tend to themselves by themselves and leave me to my little self in peace. You do you, sirs and madams, and I shall do me. And that was just the way I liked it.
And speaking of Yetis and dark figures flashing fur and totally not minding my own business here, I’d heard all about that lady down the way and her, erm... nephew, was it? Son? I couldn’t remember—I’d just about tuned it all out to hear it until I’d caught on to the part about the little punk dressing up in a white ghillie suit type thing he’d constructed himself, painting a cheap gorilla mask, and running around wreaking havoc—a masked snow Yeti man. He’d terrified half the town and sent the sheriff’s station on a wild goose chase to catch him. He was a wily one, his relation’d gone on, claimed he knew all the ins and outs of this town like the back of his hand. Now, that was the kind of tricks over treats mentality I wasn’t down with. Was that why there were so few trick or treaters tonight? They were afraid of the snow monster this guy’d cooked up? It had been a hell of a thing before his relative had outed him, to hear her tell it, hoping it would put a stop to his antics. I had to wonder, had the damage he’d intended to cause already been done?
And he thought to pick right up where he’d left off, but instead of Christmas Eve he was going to ruin Halloween this year? Oh... crooked toothed jack-o-lanterns, like hell he would.
“Well, we’ll just see about that...” I grumbled under my breath. “How would he like a jump scare, hmm?”
Slipping into the house, I quietly, quickly grabbed my fuchsia, so ugly it hurts but damn was it warm and a steal of a deal, coat by the door, and traded my pointy witch hat for the fur lined hood of my jacket. Leaving the bowl of treats on my chair with a scribbled note to Go Nuts! Happy Halloween! I twisted to turn off my porch light and slipped back out.
Watching that figure streak by and down the way, still within my sight but just barely, I had a pretty good idea which way he was headed. If he thought his reign of terror—because that’s exactly how it sounded, hearing what all he’d done, property damage, scaring the life out of the townsfolk, even going so far as to set up speakers and play wild animal noises—was going to continue this night, he had another think comin’!
Chapter 2
Rushing back in at the last moment, I grabbed my opened PB cups I’d left forgotten next to my winter beanie on the end table just inside the door, and a few sweets for the road, hurrying back out to scramble after the furred menace threatening to ruin my favorite holiday and first happily celebrated birthday in years. Like hell was I just going to sit by idly. Not on my damned watch.
Had I the forethought and brain cells, I’d have grabbed my cell phone instead of leaving it on the patio table like the befuddled candy whore lovin’ Yeti impersonator hunter I was.
By the time I’d realized my mistake, the Halloween ruiner was right up the way and I was hot on his trail.
Mace. That self-defense keychain thing I kept on my house keys. Oh, the things I did not think to think. A stick... Was there not a random fat stick I could wield if necessary? The snow surrounding me told me no such luck unless I wanted to go digging.
Maybe no jump scares, I amended, on defenseless me’s second, third, and fourth thoughts. I’d just follow him, no need to go jumping all up at him, especially considering I was unarmed. God, why did I do this? What the heck had I been thinking? This semi state of temporarily retired life has turned me into a menace. I was chasing goons for thrills now, was it?
Tugging the yummy treat from the aforementioned pocket, I pulled one out, peeled back the wrapper, and took a big ol’ satisfying bite out of it. Oh, yes, you shall be mine. All mine. Glancing down at my hand as the wrapper crinkled, a peek of the last cup showing, I shrugged. To eat the last one, or not to eat the last one? It was more like, shall thou ass jiggle a bit more for a week, or shan’t it? “Don’t mind if I do,” I whispered, and finished off the first cup to prepare the last one for decimation.
My thoughts stalled, candy wrapper crinkling in hand as I balled it up, as a tall figure cast in shadows hunched, glancing around, to creep up to an unlit house that looked shut up, several of the windows boarded up. Going to one of the unbroken windows, shadow man tried to peer inside. That was one of the story houses, a weird one. A woman had come up and rented it, asking a lot of odd questions at the local gas station/quick mart, peppering locals with questions about the women who’d disappeared en mass, then the woman’d kinda, sort of just vanished completely without a single trace.
Quite a few women had gone missing around that time, some local, others visiting. The way the investigators that had looked into it back then figured it, according to Hali that ran the diner, the forest ranger that’d gone missing with them must’ve been taking them all out and they got lost, or gone to look for them or something upon hearing they’d gone missing or some such, and they’d all succumbed to the elements. It was all a bit weird and the stories were patchy and changed from person to person, but those main details remained the same: Several women had gone missing, then the one that’d been staying in that house. And then nothing.