Pumpkin Bride: Brides of the Hunt: A Brides of the Hunt Holiday Novel

by Jeanette Lynn

  My jaw slowly dropped as Mr. Not So Mysterious peeled back a few planks of wood like it was nothing and shoved his head right inside a broken window. What on earth was he...?

  Instinctively, I rushed closer, boots crunching loudly in the thick patch of snow I’d trudged forward and stumbled right into. My hand went for my phone as I opened my mouth to shout, to recall quite clearly I had forgotten it back at the cabin. The barked, “Hey! What are you doin’ over there?!” was out of my mouth before I’d had a chance to muffle it. Instantly, I recoiled.

  The tall figure in shadow jumped like I’d goosed them, then growled as their head smacked the top of the window sill. Someone seemed really preoccupied, distracted, even. Spinning around to face me, a growl on his lips, if I hadn’t have seen he was in fact a person first I might have thought him a bear or something. Eyeing him like I found him boring, playing it up hard, I caught a glimpse of the figure’s bright, flashing green eyes and long, pointy white teeth. Lord, they’d even added anatomically correct junk to their suit! I mean, assuming what Yeti privates looked like, but that went without saying. I wanted to blush just taking note of it as it more or less dangled there at half mast, poorly hidden by the thick fur surrounding it.

  A snarl rent the air. There were two of those weird snarling noises now, blending into one. He wasn’t alone. Yeti burglarizer came with backup.

  Crap.

  You know what, I’d give it to him, he was good, very convincing, had me shaking in my boots at his clever ploy and that well done makeup, even had the sound effects down, that Yeti getup was artfully applied, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “I’m onto you- you- Sir! We know all about you, uh-huh! Caught you red handed,” I blustered, flustered as he came into the light and his fur stood up on end. Okay, so it was a very impressive suit. Must have taken him hours and set him back a few hundred dollars. He was starting to look like someone had rubbed a balloon all over that clever costume, it was so puffed out. And, my, was he tall. Was he on stilts? It would be easier to trip his ass if he was on stilts. Why go to all that trouble just to spook the townsfolk and then rob them blind? Richie-Rich-ville, this little smudge waiting to be put on a map, was not. I highly doubted he’d break even scavenging these parts. Why the elaborate hoax? Why the abandoned spook house?

  Lifting my chin, puffing my chest out like that might put him off, I took a step closer, and closer, my chin lifting higher and higher until my hood fell back, exposing the angry look on my face. Witch, please, I thought with a wild cackle in my head.

  “There are cameras set up around here. They’re watching you. Been watching you, all of you.” My jaw jutted. What was he going to have to say about that? More importantly, I hoped I hadn’t played it up too much and he knew I was full of crap.

  Yeti impersonator got one look at my face and blanched, which I’d admit kind of surprised me and made me feel a little taller, to be honest—I’m really not that menacing to look at, too round in the face, soft featured. I was more likely to be picked to be mugged than stop a mugger.

  A strangled noise left the man. His hand shot out and he pointed, thick finger with impressive looking claws on it jerking towards me. Acrylics, had to be. His heavy mitt was shaking so badly he could barely contain it. “B-b-ba, b-b-baba, B-baba-bee-yagga!”

  My first thought was, huh? The second, Baba the what?

  My brow furrowed, expression pinching quizzically. “Baba Yaga?” I blurted on a sputtering laugh. Disbelief filled me. Was he serious? Wait. My green face and this pale orange mop of wants-to-be-strawberry-blonde but it just ain’t quite—he’s afraid of my costume? Something wasn’t adding up here. He’s Yeti-ed out and he’s afraid of a silly witch costume? Just who, exactly, was inside that costume? Surely a grown man wasn’t freaking out over some silly green makeup.

  Or was he playing me in this too? Hmm... “I mean, hey, the chicken legged house is just that-a-way if ya wanna follow me to it,” I responded casually, with a flippant look, “it’s runnin’ around the neighbors’ yards... Or how’s about you quit whatever nonsense you’re planning and skeedaddle before the authorities show up, hmm?”

  “Chimken feets... Smell no. Trickses... Babagaga... Bagayaga,” The Great Pretender blurted, stumbling back. God, was this one of those prank wars college things and a bunch of theater kids drove all the way up here to re-spook the gullible Yeti believers? His eyes were round as saucers, one of his hands flying back to reach for something behind him. Damn was I kinda buying the fear in his eyes.

  His pupils looked funny, large and almost oblong. Scratching at my head, I took another step closer. Was he high? Drunk? What made eyeballs weird, concussions aside? Shoot, he had hit his head on the sill... Judging by the eyes, I was going to go with all of the above, maybe?

  He’s being odd, but I could work with this if his fear led him to keep himself at a distance. Nodding slowly, lips slightly pursed, brow raised, I came to stop a few feet from him and just paused.

  “I’m magical, you know. I turn salmon into peanut butter cups for fun. Rots everyone’s teeth.” Holding the wrapper out, I made a show of waving it around.

  Was I being weird, yes, but if it kept me unharassed and whole, I’d play it up. Was there something going on with the nephew, son, whatever he was, if this was him, whomever this stranger was, and I was totally off base here? Was there more to this? Had someone put him up to this like a threat if he didn’t? He’d have to be desperate to go to such great lengths. Had that lady in town gossiping away about him neglected to mention something about him, going on with him? If so, I didn’t want to terrify the man over a misunderstanding and scar him for life if he already had demons chasing him. We could part our ways and I’d let the sheriff’s station handle this.

  At his what-the-heck stare and quick sniff of the air like he was checking to see if I was the one indulging in anything, I decided I would do what I’d been holding off on, a last resort, so to speak. But first, just to be doubly sure. “You okay there, buddy? Lost? Need help? Hit your head recently? Escape some sort of Halloween convention, or, uhm, hospital?” Institution for the criminally insane? I watched too many movies. Michael Meyers, this dude was not. Right? Right?!

  Mal, stop it, you’re freaking yourself out and resorting to convos in your head.

  “If you were smart, you’d take your friend and get out of here, before it’s too late.” My tone was bland, neutral. My face gave nothing away, expression perfectly blanked.

  “No lost, no need the help, no hopstickles,” he grumbled out, like he’d committed to this whole Yeti shtick and by golly he was going to see it through. “You go. Bad. Bad Yaggy bobo. Go to chimken feets hut. Go. No want furs balls. Go-go. No. No.” He actually grimaced, lifting a hand, leaning bodily away. Sr. Imposter winced as he limp-arm, floppy fingers, shooed me away.

  This whole mess was totally off. Scratching at my head, I glanced around. What the hell the heck-no was I missing? Gossip lady never said her nephew was a threat, more of a jokester good timer butt head who took things too far.

  “It’s not nice, what you’re doing, you know.” Lying, I added, “Saw you walking up the way. Just buying time. I watch the police cameras for them. They’re watching us right now, in fact.” Glancing at my wrist watch, I tapped it. “Should be here any minute now.”

  “Watches? Where?” When I didn’t answer, he let out a vicious snarl to rival anything I’d heard on Animal Planet. When I jumped and a startled noise left me, he scowled and started to approach.

  One of those insane snarls left him as he went to grab at me. Man, he was fast, but I saw him coming. Dodging, panicked, I tumbled to the snow with a barked shout. Reaching into my left pocket, fingers coming into contact with crinkling wrappers, I snagged them and yanked my hand free. With a bellowed cry, I threw my hands up and then boomed out, because I’m obviously as foolish as he was acting and needed any advantage I could get, “I curse you, mortal fool!” I had no clue what came over me.

  I did stupid
things under duress, which was exactly why I had chosen a mundane career with little to no chance of crazy. It was like a baptism of random crap—pocket lint, two of the three large candy bars I’d snagged on the way out the door, individually wrapped candies trash, foils of green, red, and brown littering him, along with some random pieces of loose candy.

  “Babooshka!” he shrieked as a silver wrapper covered log of caramel, peanuts, and nougat coated with milk chocolate hit his chin, a deep voiced, shrill scream erupting from him that pierced my ears as the other whacked his imitation Yeti wang. His hands grabbed at his chest as the loose candies peppered his abdomen and he stumbled back. Panicked shrieks left him as he slapped at his chest wildly. “Yagabba! Chimken feets comes next! Bauheg! It gets me!” he cried out, slapping at the loose stray bits of candy that had decided to attach itself to his coat. “It gets me!!”

  Dang. I must’ve had coat candy in there from who knew when. One glance down at my sweaty palm and the taste the rainbow dot art on it confirmed. I couldn’t recall my last Sweet and Sours binge. Whoops.

  The more he slapped, the more colorful his chest became. Someone else seemed to have slippery palms too.

  After about three minutes of his hysterics I actually started to feel bad. I’d scared him good. The man had some odd, childish fears festering and I’d just released those coated candies on him like I’d opened a can of witch scared worms. He was showing no signs of letting up as he whacked the crap out of himself and began to spin around. His mindless gibberish was even more disconcerting. He sounded terrified of the myth of Baba Yaga.

  Now I was just starting to feel like a heel, even if he had been acting like he meant to attack me and was a Yeti robber.

  “Hey,” I called out a moment later. “Hey, man, look, I was just messing with you. I was just kidding? You know, like you’ve been messing with everyone else? It’s just candy, man, not cherry bombs.”

  Nope. He wasn’t listening.

  When I hauled myself to my feet and cautiously ventured closer to him, he froze and his shrieks cut off.

  “No more curses.” Thrusting his long arms out, hands waving, he held me off. “Rek be good. Rek good. No tricks and feets. Only treats. Happy wieners!”

  “Oh my god, what?” I burst out, gaping up at him. I wasn’t painfully short, more so tragically average in the height department. This Rek character was given extra when they handed out towering forms. I had to crane my neck to squint up at him.

  “Happy wieners! No feets! Only treats!” he garbled out. He was so quick to try and get away from me he tripped over the snow pile that’d gotten me earlier, flopping backwards to his ass into it.

  A rumbling grumble of noises behind me had me spinning around to spy another Yeti man climbing out of another window to the boarded up house, a smallish bag full of goodies following as he tugged it out after him. He was even bigger and wider than candy freak out behind me.

  Jerking a hand towards the other Yeti burglar, I waggled it at his form and then this Rek. “Oh, you piece of work,” I told this “Rek”, if that was even his real name. Sounded like a stupid code name to me. Who called themselves Rek? “You really had me fooled, you know that?! And to think, for a moment there I was about to jump on helping you. You actually made me feel sorry for you! What a cree-eeep!”

  My rant ended on a shout, an even louder one leaving me as thick arms banded around my waist, coming up on me from behind, and I was hauled up into a thick, rock hard slab of muscle.

  “No,” Rek the Yeti burglar shouted at his accomplice. “She curse! Yagababoo!” His hand slapped his sweat melted candy coated colored chest smears in his pristine fur as if to offer up proof. “Joansie say wishes roamed on Happy Wieners! Babagoyogi! Wish! Bad wish! No touch! Bad. Curse. Curse and bad. Put down.” Rek was acting like he was talking me down, speaking for my benefit, while waiting for his friend to comply and hopefully no curse would befall his comrade.

  Alright, they were totally on something, that was the only explanation I was going to buy at this point. Homeboys were here enough to know exactly what they were doing, yet on another planet. Beastie boys’ lights were all on in the house but ain’t nobody pickin’ up the phone.

  The thick arms banding around me loosened. “Wishes?” a disgustingly deep voice rumbled, his thick voice rattling me as that word vibrated my chest.

  They were totally spooked by witches, huh? That godawful bad? I chose my moment and made my move. “Curses on you all!” I bellowed, and threw my hands up and back to slap at Rek’s friend’s furry masked, and quite convincingly so, face. They were using some fancy schmancy special effects stuff—probably also pilfered. Someone’s shop had gotten robbed, a specialty Halloween store, that’s what it was. Totally made sense.

  One of my flailing hands found purchase. The fingers of one hand shoved up a wet orifice, the other, jabbing backwards, poked what felt like an eyeball, I was pretty sure. Beast burglar restrainer yelped, growled, then barked out a pained shout as my fingers once more met slimy wetness. His nose. I’d just totally forced my finger up a moist nostril. Ugh. Gross.

  Desperate to be let go, I grasped that hooked bit of cartilage and yanked upward. A squeal of a shriek left me, my legs kicking out at him as I began to fight in earnest. It was not all for naught. Seconds later the man dropped me like a hot potato and my bum went tumbling to the ground.

  “Bog!” I thought I heard Rek shout over his shoulder, already hightailing it like his butt was on fire. The witch was loose. Ooooh! Boo!

  Glancing up to spot this Bog, one hand clutching his nose, his poked eye squeezed shut, he had the forethought to reach out with his free hand and pick up his bag. Garbling out growling sounds, he made to take off. Standing there, the lone victor in this odd turn of events, I was feeling mighty bold, my big girl panties hiked up so damn high I could taste them.

  But, and I say this most emphatically, I just couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I called after him, lunging to grab the butt end of the bag.

  Bog looked like he wanted to jerk the bag to his person but was afraid I might curse him again. His gaze kept darting from me glaring at him from my seat on the ground, hand clutching the bag, heels digging in, to Rek, his form disappearing in the snow starting to dust the already ghost white blanketed ground.

  My hood had fallen over my face at some point, masking the vitriol I was sending his way. If looks could kill and he could glimpse them, he’d at least be writhing on the ground—I mean, I’m not a total monster. Marshmallow Monster Mallory—that was me. Even now I still held a smidgeon of pity for this pair of idiots. It was pathetic, really.

  “Drop the stolen goods and nobody gets hurt!” I snarled, digging my feet into the muddy ground beneath all that snow to firmly tug the bag towards my person.

  Taken by surprise, sending him off balance, Yeti suit came tumbling down towards me. Scrambling, trying to scuttle away, there was no time to react. With an “Eeep,” that couldn’t have prepared me for just how heavy he was, the tree of a male came crashing down. The behemoth was headed right for me. It was like watching a crash in slow motion. Even my heartfelt, “Noooo,” felt like it was slow-mo leaving my lips.

  And then he crashed down, and there were a few moments I couldn’t breathe. “Crushing... me,” I gasped out, relieved when he gathered himself enough to lift up a little.

  Flat atop me, still squinting through the one good eye, Bog stared down at me. Our faces were inches apart. Hot breath coasted over my face, a strange, herbal, minty smell on his breath.

  “Ow,” I huffed, green eyes narrowed and glaring, hoping the idiot got the message.

  He was acting like he’d never seen a damned woman in a Halloween costume before.

  “You can get off of me now,” I grumbled, lifting a hand to push at his shoulder when we just laid there.

  When he didn’t budge, the suit so lifelike it felt as if I was touching his actual skin, if generously furred, I coul
d only sit there and watch as he lifted a hand up. It came towards my face, but he had me pinned in place. Scowling up at him fiercely, I watched him press a thick finger to my cheek in an odd poke. Pulling his finger back when I bared my teeth at him, he gasped when his fingertip came away green.

  “Cursed,” he whispered, his heart starting to thunder heavily, beating wildly against my chest. “Cursed. Babogi cursed...” His heart sounded like it was going to explode as the green makeup smeared on his fingertips, staining them, spreading it, and he couldn't swipe it away. “Cursed,” he called louder, like a green fingered, one-eyed pirate Yeti burglar.

  Stumbling to his feet, leaving me to wonder if I could move, or even should try to move after all that, taking his warmth with him, he snatched the bag of stolen goods up and started to run. He was in such a hurry, muttering about curses, glancing around like he thought the chimken hut might come crashing through the trees and take off after him, he kept stumbling over his own big feet. I had to shake my head at that nonsense.

  And when a normal person would have called it a day, like hell was I finished with this. I wasn’t done. Oh no, this was not over, not yet.

  Rushing back to my place, one quick call to the sheriff’s station to let them know what was up, leaving a message on their emergency line, I grabbed my phone, a flashlight, my bug out bag, winter gear, and rushed back out. My mind raced. I hoped they hadn’t gotten too far.

  I’d let so many things just slide in the past, turned the other cheek, gone about my business, let fear and the need for safety rule me. Well, not anymore. Something snapped inside me. I couldn't just let this go, even if I really, really wanted to. Those fools needed to be found and arrested, the stolen goods returned to the rightful owner. Those creeps needed to learn their lesson.

  I was on my own Yeti hunting expedition and I’d be damned if I was going to give up and come back empty handed. A groan left me. I was especially not ready to come back, tail between my legs, shuffling in defeat, after the crazy message I’d left with the sheriff’s station.