Everybody Wants to Rune the World
A Happily Everlasting Series World Novel
Mandy M. Roth
Everybody Wants to Rune the World: A Happily Everlasting Series World Novel (Bewitchingly Ever After) © Copyright Feb, 2019, Mandy M. Roth
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This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence. The book is fictional and not a how-to. As always, in real life practice good judgment in all situations. Novel intended for adults only. Must be 18 years or older to read.
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Contents
Blurb
Bewitchingly Ever After Series
FAQs
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
About the Author
Blurb
Everybody Wants to Rune the World (Bewitchingly Ever After, Book Two)
Welcome to Hedgewitch Cove, Louisiana, where there's no such thing as normal.
Sigmund Bails ran from his past straight to a supernatural Louisiana town after coming into his shifting abilities later than most, to dire consequences. With help from the colorful locals, the were-kraken has been working hard to gain some semblance of control. Unfortunately, the dead bodies turning up around tiny Hedgewitch Cove seem to point to the fact his kraken side is running wild again. It’s bad enough he has to hide from a part of himself; since moving down south, he’s also been avoiding the one person every shifter hopes to find—his true mate.
Despite being part witch, part siren, and part hunter, Virginia Peugeot has shied away from her supernatural side ever since a frightening childhood incident. Which gives her plenty in common with Sigmund. Their sizzling attraction is just icing on the cake…or would be, if the man didn’t make an Olympic sport out of sprinting in the opposite direction every time he sees Virginia coming. There’s only so long a woman can wait, especially when she’s caught the interest of another eligible alpha male in town.
If Sigmund won’t make the first move, maybe his kraken will. If an old enemy doesn’t claim his mate first…
Dedication
To Mr. Mandy, Big Roth Boy, Middle Roth Boy, and Little Roth Boy. The Roth house runs off humor and I’m thankful every day for that and all of you. To Hercules for chasing rays of light and for barking at the moon. To Persy, who would totally steal Hank’s head and eat dried werewolf toes.
Bewitchingly Ever After Series
Don’t Stop Bewitching
Everybody Wants to Rune the World
with more to come…
FAQs
Q: What other characters will Mandy be writing about from the Everlasting/ Bewitchingly Ever After worlds?
A: The ones she created: Leo, Petey, Luc, York, Louis, Blackbeard, etc. These books will be part of Mandy's spin-off series from Happily Everlasting--Bewitchingly Ever After.
Q: Will Mandy write other cozies that are not part of the Everlasting world?
A: Yes. She's working on a few series right now and will notify her mailing list when more information becomes available.
Q: What series are related to Bewitchingly Ever After?
A: The Happily Everlasting Series
Chapter One
Sixteen months ago…
Virginia Peugeot parked her car out in front of Hells Gate Inn, a bed-and-breakfast that was as haunted as it looked. It was also run mostly by demons and owned by the devil himself. Not that any of that would keep her from going up to the front door. No. She’d been born and raised in Hedgewitch Cove, Louisiana, so demons didn’t scare her. Neither did the devil.
He was actually a pretty nice guy, all considering.
The devil lived part of the year in Hedgewitch Cove, and had since long before Virginia’s birth. He wasn’t at all what one might think him to be—horned, red, and with a tail. Though one Halloween, he had worn a red devil costume and sat on his porch, passing out candy to local children. That had been something to see.
He was actually incredibly good-looking.
And apparently, he was in need of something from Virginia, her mother, grandmother, and younger sister. That was odd. Lucifer (Luc) Dark was normally the one helping others with their problems. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she’d been called on to help him with anything. In fact, she wasn’t aware the man had ever needed help before. He was somewhat of a mystery to most.
She had been on her way back to town from New Orleans when she’d gotten the call from her little sister, Mississippi (Missi), saying that their mother and grandmother needed their help and to meet them at Hells Gate. That had been nearly fifteen minutes ago.
She hoped that whatever had prompted the request wasn’t time sensitive. As it was, she’d broken a few laws on the way into town in regard to how fast she was driving, and she didn’t want her father or cousins to find out. Her father, Walden Peugeot, was the parish sheriff, and six of her male cousins were deputy sheriffs who served under him.
One of her cousins was totally by the book. He hadn’t ever met a rule he didn’t like. And another had yet to come across a rule he hadn’t broken. The others were shades in between. All of them would have hassled her to some degree about her speed. The wild one would have demanded she drag race him or something.
“The end is near!” said a man walking down the sidewalk. He was wearing a dark rainslicker and matching surrey hat. Despite the fact that the day was clear, not a raindrop in sight. None of that mattered to Arnold. He could make the cheeriest of days melancholy. It was something of a gift. One that he prided himself on. He was a drama king, as noted by the sign he was wearing that read “Countdown to the End.” He even had a bell and was ringing it as he walked, so that no one would miss him.
Not that he was easy to miss or anything.
He was a regular when it came to shouting about the end of the world. The sign’s message changed often. The outfit and the man’s general demeanor never did. The bell was a new touch. It was also incredibly obnoxious, so she had little doubt it wouldn’t last long. There would inevitably be a town meeting held to discuss said bell. A vote would be taken, ballots would be counted, and the bell would more than likely end up being relinquished or forcibly taken if need be.
Until that happened, it was good to see Arnold getting out of his comfort zone. Of course, he could have picked a better l
ocation to flex his newfound bell muscles. Doing so in front of Hells Gate would lead to nothing but issues for the man.
“Arnold, you know if Luc sees you out here, he’ll be less than pleased,” she said, meaning every word of it. Luc had a short fuse when it came to Arnold and his behavior. “What did he tell you about heralding the end of the world in front of his place?”
Apocalypse Arnold, as he was affectionally known around town, met her gaze, his expression forlorn. “That just because I nearly ended the world more than once in the past, history is not destined to repeat itself. And I am not the harbinger of the end, no matter how much I want to be or how many times I try to be.”
The way he said it all made him seem very childlike.
“And?” asked Virginia, putting a hand on her hip, wanting to laugh at the man but holding back. It was difficult.
He let out a long, unenthused breath. “And I’m not allowed to spread omens anywhere near Luc or Hells Gate.” The man, who never seemed to be galvanized about much, cast her a somber look. “He’s not in town so he won’t know, and this is kind of my thing. What I’m known for. People would be disappointed if I stopped. How would they know the end might one day happen? I’m pretty much a superhero in disguise, if you think about it. That’s what Ms. Cherry told me. The women from your mother’s bridge club agreed. One even suggested I look into tights and a cape.”
“Was that someone my mother?” asked Virginia, already knowing her mother well enough to suspect she’d have put the superhero bug in Arnold’s ear.
Arnold inclined his head, doing the closest thing to a smile the man had to offer. “It was. She even offered to make the outfit for me.”
Virginia shook her head. Her mother got too much pleasure out of stirring the pot. “Well, whatever suits your fancy, but if I were you, I’d hold off on a costume and a superhero name just yet. People might be disappointed if you stopped wearing your sign. You know how much they look forward to reading it.”
No one did, but the last thing she wanted was the man running around town shouting about the end of the world dressed as a superhero. “Good thinking. Thanks for looking out for me, Virginia,” he said, and then began to ring his bell once more.
She grabbed his hand, silencing the bell in the process. “Arnold, Luc is most certainly in town. I’m waiting for Missi to get here. He needs help with something,” said Virginia.
Arnold’s eyes widened. “He’s home?”
“He is.” She tried to hide her amusement. “I really hope he’s not looking out of a window right now. If he is, there is a high likelihood he’ll be heralding your end. If I were you, I’d hightail it out of here.”
Arnold turned and ran as fast as he could in the other direction. His sign flapped and his bell dinged wildly as he went. He nearly collided with the mailman in his haste.
Barnebas Cybulski caught his mailbag and held it tightly to his body as Arnold sped by. The mail carrier was in orange shorts and a red Hawaiian shirt. A blue baseball cap was on his head, announcing his love of the local high school baseball team. He coached little league during baseball season and took the sport very seriously. Almost as seriously as football was taken by everyone else.
It was the south, so football was just shy of being labeled a religion. Twice in her lifetime, the town council had met to hear arguments on actually getting the sport labeled a religion. The vote had fallen short, barely.
There seemed to be a town meeting on just about everything. In fact, they were set to have a town meeting about the number of town meetings next month.
“Virginia,” he said, with a tip of his head.
Barnebas, like a fair number of residents in the town, came from a long line of Cajuns. Virginia’s father was a proud Cajun and would shout it from the rooftops if her mother would allow it.
“How’s ya mama an’ them?” he asked.
She smiled. “Momma is good. I’m meeting her any minute. I’ll let her know you asked about her. How is your momma doing?”
“Good. She’s cookin’ some gator this weekend,” he said before lifting a hand. “But don’t go tellin’ your daddy.”
Virginia laughed. There was no way she was going to tell her father—who was part were-gator—that Barnebas’s mother was serving up alligator for dinner.
Barnebas had on white tube socks and a pair of Pumas, clearly a trendsetter in the what-not-to-wear fashion look of the season. Fall in southern Louisiana was chilly, not as bad as up north, but it wasn’t exactly shorts kind of weather. That didn’t matter to Barnebas. In the dead of summer, he was known to deliver the mail without a shirt on at all. She’d heard tales of a time when he’d tried delivering the mail in his underwear and nothing else. Thankfully, she’d been away at culinary school when that incident occurred. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to un-see it. The man was attractive, for someone with the fashion sense of Magnum P.I., but that wasn’t the point.
There had been a town meeting about his underwear deliveries. He’d been permitted to plead his case. Apparently, he’d done so in underwear, which did not help his case any. The decision was made to let Barnebas wear anything he wanted, except just underwear, while delivering the mail, just so long as he was indeed wearing something.
He glanced back in the direction Arnold was running and ringing. “Who let Arnie have a bell, and why’s he runnin’?”
Virginia smiled. “He didn’t know Luc was home, and I have no idea where he got the bell. We should be glad Ms. Cherry hid his megaphone.”
“Luc’s home, and Arnie was doom and gloomin’ out in front of Hells Gate again?” asked Barnebas, shaking his head. “The last time Luc found him doin’ dat in front of the inn, we had to have an emergency town meetin’ to vote on if Luc should be allowed to take Arnie to the pits of hell for a week or not. Sure glad dat vote went the way of no. Arnie did have to work in the mobile familiar groomin’ truck for community service though. For the best. I’m not sure Arnie could handle the pit of anythang. He lost at poker the other night and has been downright inconsolable.”
Virginia lifted a brow. “Uh, is he ever happy?”
“Not really. He has levels of despair. Losin’ at poker took him to a new one. You wouldn’t know it lookin’ at him but he’s very competitive. Dat boy ain’t never met a challenge he didn’t want to win. You know Luc tellin’ him he’s not gonna end the world means Arnie is gonna try to prove ’em wrong,” added the mail carrier before he eyed Hells Gate warily. Sweat appeared on his forehead, and he looked to be mentally preparing himself to deliver mail there.
She knew why.
The inn was the bane of the mail carrier’s existence.
Between the mischievous spirits who haunted the place and Furfur, Luc’s pet hellhound, who just happened to look like a boxer dog and had a thing for chasing the mailman, Barnebas couldn’t win.
“Bob and Howie still giving you trouble?” asked Virginia, already knowing the answer to her question. She’d laid witness to their shenanigans just last week.
Bob was one of many Earthbound spirits who called Hells Gate Inn home. He died when he was in his late sixties and had always been ornery, from what Virginia had heard. Being dead hadn’t slowed the man one bit. He was confined to Hells Gate’s property, unable to ever leave, meaning he often got bored. A source of amusement for Bob was to harass Barnebas during his daily mail delivery. The spirit was known to team up with one of the many demons who worked at the inn.
Howie was a favorite choice. The demon, by all outward appearances, looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He had spiked, bleached-out blond hair that he often changed the tips of by adding dramatic splashes of color. He was tall and rail thin, with a thing for hard metal band T-shirts, black pants, and silver chains. More than once she’d seen him greeting guests at the counter wearing a spiked leather dog collar and black lipstick. For as Goth as Howie seemed, he had a major Achilles’ heel.
Happy things terrified him.
He was a
lso fairly easy to manipulate. Which was why Bob recruited him the most to help with pranks.
The pair had put Barnebas through the wringer the week prior. He was clearly still traumatized by the ordeal. Sadly, the mail carrier was not the only victim of Bob’s antics.
The ghost liked to get the people from the utility companies as well, whenever they came to read a meter. And the pizza delivery boys. The list was nearly endless.
There was talk of some residents forming a local support group for those who’d had bad run-ins with Bob. Virginia didn’t understand all the fuss. Bob was just bored. He wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.
The same could not be said of all the inn’s residents. Howie was gentle natured but there was a dark past behind him. One that left others whispering, never really divulging all the details.
Virginia didn’t care what the demon had done in his past. He’d been there when she’d needed help, and she’d never forget it. As far as she was concerned, Howie was good people.
Putting her hand on Barnebas’s shoulder, Virginia gave him a serious look. “Want me to take the mail up when I go in?”
“Ohmygod, yes!” he exclaimed loudly before clearing his throat and doing his best to appear aloof. It didn’t quite work. “If you wouldn’t mind, since you’re goin’ dat way an’ all.”
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