Don’t Stop Bewitching_A Happily Everlasting Series World Novel

by Mandy M. Roth

  Hugh grumbled. “Fine. Have it your way, you old grump.”

  Just then Hugh’s arms went out and he twisted fast, hugging Petey in place of Wilber.

  Curt couldn’t breathe for a moment as a bout of laughter overtook him.

  “Grandpa,” said Penelope. “Be nice.”

  Wilber rolled his eyes and thrust the crate at Hugh. “If you can find time in between holding Petey, you can carry this. Try not to drop it. You could start the apocalypse if any of the artifacts in it break. If that Destiny Vase so much as cracks, we’re all screwed.”

  Hugh ended up having to pry Petey off him so he could take the crate.

  “End of the world,” said Curt with another laugh.

  Wilber didn’t join in.

  Curt’s eyes widened. “For real?”

  Wilber gave him a look that said, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “This is going to be great. Just great,” said Curt as he followed Jake’s previous steps to secure his luggage to the rack on top of the van. He put his hands out to Hugh, waiting as the wolf-shifter handed him the crate.

  “Are you crazy?” shouted Wilber, causing Hugh to fumble, drop the crate, and then dive down in an attempt to break its fall.

  Curt did the same, throwing himself to the ground and sliding his hands under the crate to try to stop a possible apocalypse.

  The two alpha males ended up side by side, on the ground, basically holding hands under the crate, their faces pressed to the bottom portion of the van.

  “Oh, look at that. They’re getting along great. Potion worked like a charm,” said Petey with a grin as he walked towards his pickup truck.

  Curt got to his feet and helped Hugh to stand, each babying the crate and sharing a look between them.

  Wilber strutted past, took the crate, and put it inside the van. “Want something done, you have to do it yourself. Shifters. Good for nothing.”

  Penelope cleared her throat.

  Wilber sighed. “Fine. They’re good for something. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head right now, but I’m sure there is something. Oh I know. Their pelts make warm coats.”

  “They do,” said Leo with a nod.

  “Oh yeah. This trip is going to go over great,” said Curt with a shake of his head.

  Chapter Three

  Three Days Later…

  Missi (Mississippi) Peugeot put the last of the new shipment of candles in the display holders at her magic shop—Charmed Life Magik Shop. She’d come in early to get a head start on inventory for the month and to restock anything she was low on. Since she’d been busy helping with preparations for the upcoming town Founder’s Day Celebration, her time had been split between the shop and planning duties. While she wasn’t the best at remembering things like her shoes, or where she left her bicycle, she was good about keeping her store stocked with goods.

  Two high school students worked for her during the summer months and would be in for work in about an hour and half, when the shop actually opened for business. She’d yet to train them to do inventory. It was on her ever-growing to-do list. First up, it was get the shop’s inventory restocked and order anything she might need and then it was time to finish making the decorations for the town square.

  This year’s Founder’s Day motif was shifter themed, so they were making cardboard cutouts of various animals, covering them in glitter, and then stringing them from lampposts around town. It hadn’t been her idea, but she’d somehow gotten stuck doing the work. Last year they’d featured the vampires and the year before that it was the spirits so the shifters were feeling a bit left out.

  She didn’t think glitter cutouts would make them feel included and valued, but she’d been outvoted.

  The Founder’s Day celebrations were getting ready to kick off, meaning there would be a month of fun, food, games, spells, and general supernatural mishaps and hijinks. That wasn’t the slogan, but it should have been.

  Missi reassessed the candle section, which took up an entire shelving unit, noting that the ritual candles were still low even with the new stock put out. It was painfully clear she’d not ordered enough. She pulled her small, ever-present notepad from the pocket of her long skirt and jotted down a note to call her cousin for more.

  Her cousin was a local candlemaker. Beatrice sold candles globally, thanks to the World Wide Web, and was in high demand. As a natural-born witch from a powerful line, Beatrice was able to create candles infused with actual magic, increasing their effectiveness tremendously. That also increased demand for her product. It was next to impossible to keep the shelves stocked. The time was fast approaching for Beatrice to expand her operations to something larger than the back of her house.

  Telling that to Beatrice was easier said than done.

  Missi had always seen herself as stuck in her ways. A creature of habit. Beatrice made her look downright free-spirited and up for anything.

  “Call Bee and get more chime candles,” Missi said, unconcerned with the fact she was talking to herself. “Check in with Mr. Flanks about his fall line of cauldrons.”

  She sighed, adding that to her notepad as well before shoving it back into her oversized pocket. Her list was always growing.

  Missi lifted the crate that the candles had come in and took it behind the counter to give to her cousin later. Both women were big into reducing waste and avoiding things such as single-use plastics. Neither drove a car to cut down on emissions, and Beatrice went as far as to have solar panels on her small home, serving as her only power source. The effort would have been great if not for the fact that Beatrice lived on the edge of the forest and had a semi-shady lot. Ironically enough, she often had to use her own candles to see by when it got dark and she was out of stored solar energy.

  No thank you. Missi would stick with the modern convenience of electricity.

  Missi went to the counter and gathered the newest white sage bundles and took them to the three-tiered basket that sat off to the side of the front register. The bottom basket was the largest and held the biggest of the bundles. The next level up held the medium-sized ones, and the top basket held the small bundles. She never quite understood what the point of the smallest ones were, but they sold well. She finished refilling the baskets and then stepped back, surveying her handiwork. It looked perfect.

  The shop had once been run by her mother, as it had been in her family for generations. The torch had passed to Missi almost two years ago and while she’d been reluctant to take the reins, fearing the townspeople would balk at change, she had to admit that her mother and grandmother had been right when they’d insisted she take over.

  It had become an unofficial town landmark because it was sort of hard to miss.

  It was large and round.

  A perfect circle that sat nestled in the middle of the French and Spanish-inspired architecture that was common to the region. Like the French Quarter in New Orleans, which was just a short jaunt down the road, Hedgewitch Cove had a certain old-world charm, from its European influences to its emphasis on community.

  The shop had become a part of her. An extension of herself. She couldn’t see herself doing anything else. Though, like the rest of her siblings and cousins, she still pitched in where she was needed at the various businesses her family owned around Hedgewitch Cove.

  Both sides of her family could be traced back to the start of the town; each were part of the founding families. On her father’s side, the Peugeots had long and proud Southern roots, deeply ingrained in Louisiana. Her mother’s side, the Caillats, could be traced back to France and had roots in witchcraft.

  The Caillats, along with three other powerful lines of witches who called the town home, had combined their efforts at the town’s creation and made sure it was a safe haven for supernaturals. The spell they’d worked kept almost all humans out. It compelled anyone without supernatural blood in them to keep on moving. To not notice the town, or the signs for it. To not see it on a map.

  Yes, hum
ans tended to wander in every now and again, but by and large, Hedgewitch Cove was mainly filled with supernaturals. The few humans who got lost and somehow managed to circumvent the wards didn’t stay long and once they left, memories of the town and its inhabitants left them.

  There were many towns like Hedgewitch Cove all over the world. They were safe havens for those who were different.

  Like she was.

  And she loved it.

  Missi loved everything about Hedgewitch Cove and every eccentric member of it. There was no other place she could see herself calling home. Unlike some of her siblings and cousins, Missi didn’t long to explore the world or put down roots somewhere new.

  No.

  She loved the security blanket the town provided. Loved being able to set her watch by the actions and workings of the town. Even if they weren’t actually all related to her (though it often seemed they were), they were family to her and she cared deeply for them all. Even down to the crotchety old men who sat outside of the barbershop in the morning, reading their newspapers, sipping coffee, and commenting loudly on the youth today and how much humans were mucking up everything.

  They pretty much thought the world was going to hell in a handbasket.

  Since Hedgewitch Cove had an actual portal to hell within it, that wasn’t a stretch by any means. They had a portal to a number of magical realms as well, so no one really batted an eye about it all. Though they did have the occasional issue with random demons strolling through town square. Unicorns and pixies were a common occurrence too as it seemed the portal to their realm tended to open the most. Pixies got into more trouble than any other magical group she could think of.

  Such was the way of it in Hedgewitch Cove. It simply was what it was. She’d never actually lived anywhere else and always found it odd when she visited a town full of humans that they never seemed to see the magic and beauty that surrounded them. If they but stopped and glanced around, they’d see everyday wonders.

  “I’m so happy I’m not human,” she said as she grabbed a dusting cloth and cleaned the back shelf of dragon figurines.

  Humans had, at one point, tried a number of her ancestors for witchcraft. When she was little, her older brothers would tell her stories of humans and how they’d search out little witch girls, stuff them full of treats and sweets only to eat them. It wasn’t until Missi was in her teens that she found the fairy tale was actually a human one and in it, the witch was doing the fattening up of the children to eat them later, not the other way around. But two of her brothers, New York (York) and Louisiana (Louis), had found it much funnier to twist the tale and scare her. As the baby of the family, she tended to be the butt end of numerous jokes her siblings played.

  The bell to the front door chimed as it opened, drawing her attention. She never locked her door. It felt unwelcoming and wrong.

  “Blasted dog! If Luc doesn’t get you fixed, I’m gonna do it myself. That’ll teach you. Always diggin’. You get on now. Mississippi doesn’t want you tearin’ up her rosemary plants!” Cherry Corduas hurried in, shutting the door behind her, looking slightly disheveled before opening the door again, looking out and pointing. “Don’t go givin’ me that look, Furfur. You’ll be fur-less if you keep it up. I’ll be having words with your daddy. Devil or not, he’s gotta make his dog mind.”

  She slammed the door as best she could with a huff and then straightened herself. The woman, who was in her early fifties, wore a floor-length navy-blue skirt with small pink flowers on it and a bright pink flowing shirt. She had more necklaces around her neck than Missi could count, each representing about every religion one could think of, and had her blonde hair piled high on her head. Thick yellow plastic-framed glasses with small pink and blue polka-dots sat perched on the end of her nose.

  The woman had been offbeat ever since Missi could recall. Ms. Cherry had once dressed as an ornamental hedge for a town function. Missi had loved it. Though it had been a bit of an issue when a bird flew into the outfit and tried to make itself right at home.

  Ms. Cherry taught middle school English during the day, and in the evenings she taught drama classes at the small local theater. It was no secret the woman had dreams of one day being on stage, in front of the masses. For now, Ms. Cherry had to settle for Hedgewitch Cove, population too small to bother counting.

  She gave a wide smile and rechecked her hair with her hands before blowing out a long breath. “Mississippi, how’s your mornin’?”

  “Good, thank you for asking. I take it Furfur is getting into trouble again,” said Missi, already knowing the animal, who was actually a hellhound but looked like a boxer dog, tended to find mischief anywhere he could. He was basically harmless. Though he did have a digging fetish and was known to run off with important items only to bury them later. The town employed a man whose sole job was to go around Hedgewitch Cove searching for all the stolen items, uncover them, and return them to their rightful owners.

  Ms. Cherry scowled. “Luc had best do somethin’ with that mongrel. Obedience trainin’ or a leash. Somethin’. The boy needs to learn to control his dog.”

  Missi hid her laugh. Luc, the “boy” Ms. Cherry was ranting about, was actually Lucifer (Luc) Dark, otherwise known in most circles as the devil himself. “You know the saying, while the devil’s away, Furfur will play.”

  “Then the demons he has runnin’ his inn ought to take better care of the thing. I think it has fleas,” snapped Ms. Cherry.

  Missi covered her smile with her hand. “I’m sure Furfur does not have fleas.”

  She smoothed the front of her skirt and took a deep breath. “I’m a cat person myself.”

  “Yes, I know. How are Toil and Trouble? Did they love the new toys you got for them?”

  Ms. Cherry’s cats were somewhat notorious around town. She often walked them in a baby stroller and had been known to put tiny conical hats on their head to “protect them from the sun.” They were spoiled through and through. A sister and brother pair, the boy, Trouble, was all black with a white bowtie-looking mark on his upper chest. His sister, Toil, was reversed, all white with a black bowtie mark. Ms. Cherry would never admit to as much, but the cats were known to instigate poor Furfur.

  Missi had once caught them ganging up on the dog just outside of town square, in the wooded area that ran all the way back to Dead Man’s Creek. Furfur was surprisingly gentle with cats, more than likely because Luc had commanded it, so the dog made no effort to defend itself. Missi had brought Furfur back to the shop, tended to his scratched-open nose and ear, and then walked him back to Hells Gate Inn, the place he called home.

  Ms. Cherry’s smile widened. “Oh, they love the new toys. Thanks so much for getting’ them in. Not many magic shops bother thinkin’ about stockin’ items for familiars. You’re so thoughtful. You’re your momma up one side and down the other.”

  “Thank you. I’m an animal lover. Actually, I love everything to do with nature,” said Missi before pointing in the direction of the other side of the shop. “There are some new cat toys back there if you want to have a look.”

  Ms. Cherry’s eyes lit up as she hurried in the direction of the pet section.

  Chapter Four

  Missi pulled out her ledger and began to mark down what items she’d restocked thus far, what she still needed to put out, and what she needed to order more of. She wasn’t a fan of computers in her store and preferred to keep a written record. Her brother Louis wholeheartedly supported her decision as he was convinced technology was the devil. It was a wonder he permitted electricity to be in his home and the antiques shop he ran. Had the phone not already been installed, Missi wasn’t sure Louis would have allowed even that.

  She didn’t go quite that far.

  She had a business phone and a cell phone. Of course, she rarely remembered to charge her cell, which made it hard for her to be reached. And then there was the fact she often forgot her cell around town. People were used to her, and the phone always managed to find its way ba
ck to her one way or another.

  Missi skimmed her finger over the ledger listings, making sure she hadn’t missed anything. Dragon’s blood was low, and she didn’t have any in stock. She made note of that and then continued to go over the ledger. When she was satisfied, she closed the book and put it under the counter near the front register.

  “Need any help with anything?” she called out.

  There was no reply.

  “Ms. Cherry?”

  Still nothing.

  Perplexed, she headed towards the pet section at the far back of the shop. It was empty. Since the shop was a large circle with floor-to-ceiling shelves and small nook areas, it was easier to get lost in it than one would think. That being said, surely she’d have seen Ms. Cherry from the front counter near the door if the woman had left.

  She hadn’t.

  “Ms. Cherry?”

  Still nothing.

  Missi continued and pushed back the long strands of red beads that hung in place of a door, leading to the back-office area and the restroom. There was also a small room off the office where Missi kept some of the objects that were just for darker magic. As a shop that catered to magics, she stocked anything they’d need. That included some questionable items. She didn’t leave those out for just anyone to happen on. No. She made sure they were tucked away.

  Ms. Cherry wouldn’t have dared go into that room. Not with her line of witches having a sordid past with the dark arts.

  Missi continued to hold the beads aside as she stood in the doorway. Her brother York, who was Louis’s twin, often called them her hippie beads. He also called her a flower child so there was that. In his mind the fact she gravitated towards long shirts and dresses, wanted to protect the environment, didn’t eat red meat, and felt at one with nature made her a hippie. He liked jeans, T-shirts, steak, beer, and hunting.

  They had very little in common.