Once Hunted, Twice Shy: A Cozy Paranormal Mystery (The Happily Everlasting Series Book 2)

by Mandy M. Roth

  Did it?

  “Someone want to tell me how a Messing can look that good?” Hugh asked. “And why it is I asked her out on a date?”

  Sigmund blew his nose before answering. “I’m shocked you’re setting aside your hate of the family to even notice how attractive she is. And I’ve no idea what possessed you to ask her out. Though if you wouldn’t have, I might have. She’s stunning and seems very nice.”

  “For a Messing,” said Hugh. His wolf’s hackles raised slightly at the idea of Sigmund making a play for Penelope. He’d never had issue before with the idea of one of his friends asking a girl he found attractive out on a date. Why now? And why her?

  “For anyone,” countered Sigmund, ever the voice of reason. Out of his best friends, Sigmund was always the one who disliked violence and conflict. He was also the one who had talked the three of them out of more trouble than Hugh could even count while they were growing up. Sigmund had always had a way with words and an ability to smooth over just about anything.

  “I like this new side of you,” said Sigmund. “Maybe Penelope was just what you needed to come crashing into your life.”

  With a snort, Hugh nodded. “Literally.”

  He put his hands into his front pockets and glanced back in the direction of Wilber’s shop. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he shuddered. Was he insane? Asking out the granddaughter of a hunter was nuts. He’d been unable to help himself when he’d asked her out on a date. His wolf didn’t seem to care that she came from a long line of supernatural murderers. It just wanted her.

  Truth be told, he wanted her too.

  She was strikingly beautiful and sassy. Not to mention quirky. The type of woman who marched to her own beat, unconcerned with fads and trends. That was appealing to him. A half grin spread over his face as he thought about her clothing. Not many could pull off making a puppy dog sweater sexy. Penelope had. And there had been a certain vulnerability in her eyes that made him want to wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world.

  She was a Messing and could no doubt take care of herself. Heck, she could probably kill a man with nothing more than her pinky finger. Still, the alpha side of him wanted to keep her safe. To mark her as his.

  Mine?

  He jerked back, and a line of curses fell free of him.

  Buster was there, jar in hand, smiling wide. “Pay up.”

  “Write a fat check for the month, Hugh,” said Sigmund. “Or admit defeat and let Curt claim victory.”

  “Over my dead body,” snapped Hugh.

  Sigmund chuckled. “Hey, you’re having dinner with a Messing. We might very well find your dead body later. Does that mean Curt wins by default? Also, it would bring Everlasting’s daily total to three. A new record.”

  “You’re a crap best friend,” reminded Hugh. He didn’t mean it. He, Curt, and Sigmund had been close since they were children. They’d always been there for one another, and while they were competitive, they were close.

  Sigmund sneezed and then walked off, laughing more. “And you’re going on a date with a hunter. Get your last will and testament together. Any final words?”

  Hugh shared his thoughts and Buster held the jar out.

  “Twenty bucks for that.” Buster stared after Sigmund. “His allergies are worse than normal this time of year. I don’t think his new meds are helping. If anything, he seems worse. I feel bad for him. Being allergic to cranberries has to be hard.”

  “Yeah, I just hate them. They can’t kill me like they can Sig.”

  “Look at you, seeing the bright side,” said Buster, sounding way too chipper for Hugh’s liking. “Next thing we know you’ll be bursting into song.”

  Hugh grunted and walked in the direction of the marina. “I’ll show you my bright side.”

  Buster gulped loudly behind him. “Tell me all about it in detail. The middle school needs more donations.”

  “You’re about to be added to the day’s body count,” returned Hugh, only partially joking. “They tell me we’re already at two. Want to make it three?”

  Chapter Eight

  Penelope couldn’t hide her excitement as she stood just outside her grandfather’s antiques shop. Twenty years had done nothing to take away from its charm and appeal. It looked exactly as she’d remembered it. There was still a small newspaper machine out front, with a shiny red candy machine standing next to it, filled to the brim with colorful gumballs. A black welcome mat was in front of large green wooden doors with glass panels. Operating hours were hand-painted on the glass panes. The brass knobs of the doors were still polished to perfection. Her grandfather had always had an eye for details and took preserving history very seriously.

  “We are the caretakers of the past, present, and future,” he used to say as he allowed her to help dust select items in the store. She’d loved every minute she’d been permitted to be his helper. She especially loved hearing the stories about the items in the shop, in what he had deemed the not-for-sale section.

  Penelope caught sight of a man who looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties but was in actuality just over seventy. He had on a tan V-neck sweater with a striped collared shirt under it and a pair of dark brown dress slacks. His unruly salt-and-pepper hair hung to his ears, and the man’s cheeks were rosy. He was a sight for sore eyes.

  He’d never been a fan of Craig and would more than likely be happy they were no longer a couple. He’d also refrain from telling her that he’d told her so. That wasn’t his style. He glanced up, his blue gaze finding hers. There was no mistaking the joy on his face. Relief swept through her.

  He held an old camera in one hand and a green cloth in the other. There was no surprise in his eyes. If anything, he looked as if he’d been expecting her. The edges of his mouth curved upward, and he set the camera and the cloth down on the counter. He put his arms out wide and moved around the counter with a speed that impressed her.

  Unable to stop herself, Penelope hurried into the shop and rushed to her grandfather, giving him a big hug. She squeezed him tight. “Grandpa!”

  “Thought I might be seeing you,” he said, his accent indicative of the region.

  She drew back and eyed him. “You knew I’d come?”

  He winked. “Yep.”

  Penelope pursed her lips. “I’m almost afraid to ask how. Remember that time you told me some lady who runs a bakery told you about a premonition she had?”

  “Oh, Polly? She gets those a lot.”

  Penelope couldn’t wait to meet Polly. Her name certainly came up a lot in conversation.

  “Did she tell you I was coming to town?” she asked, not believing for a moment that any woman could see the future.

  “Nope.” He picked up the camera he’d been dusting and continued. The camera had embossed leather wrapped around the back and a brass mounting plate.

  The geeky side of Penelope that lived for antiques sparked. She smiled wide. “Who is the manufacturer? I don’t recognize the stamp. Is it mid-1800s?”

  Her grandfather offered a sweet smile. “It is, but it’s not made by anyone you’d know or have heard of. Sort of one of a kind.” He winked as if he knew something more about the camera than he was letting on.

  “What are you asking for it?” she inquired, ever the curious one. It was hard to shut off the auctioneer side of her personality.

  He set it back in the cabinet gently. “To the right person, it’s priceless. It can also be temperamental, and something one has to be sure doesn’t lead them down a dark path.”

  “You know, you’re even odder than me,” she said, kissing his cheek quickly.

  He hugged her again and then drew her back at arm’s length, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. “They don’t feed you enough in Chicago. Weren’t you the one going on and on about the deep-dish pizzas there? Doesn’t look like you eat them much.”

  She laughed then stepped back to take a look around the shop. “It hasn’t changed at all. Neither have you.”
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  He patted his nonexistent gut. “I’m old.”

  “Pfft. Hardly,” she said before hugging him once more.

  “How long are you in town for?” he asked, staying close to her. “Tell me for good. I’d love it if you lived here full time.”

  “I was planning on a week if that’s all right with you.”

  “That isn’t long enough. Call your boss and tell him you quit.”

  Penelope laughed once more. “Right. And do what to make a living then?”

  He glanced around the shop, lifting a brow as he did. “Take over for me, of course. It’s in your blood, you know. You’d make a wonderful keeper of the artifacts.”

  She sighed. He’d mentioned more than once wanting her to take over his shop. And while antiques were her life, she wasn’t sure she could simply uproot all she knew and move to the tiny town of Everlasting. She liked her twenty-four-hour stores and access to great lattes a little too much to admit out loud. She had yet to see a coffee shop in town. “Do they have any chain coffee shops here?”

  Her grandfather snorted in indignation. “No. We’ve got a few places that serve coffee. Polly’s place, called Witch’s Brew, makes a great cup of coffee. What would we need with any big-city chain? Besides, we’re a little more than they could handle.”

  “Because the town is full of witches, werewolves, and magic?” she asked, a teasing note in her voice, the stories of her childhood filling her head. Her grandfather had been full of fantastical tales.

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  “Well, I’ve yet to meet a werewolf, or anything else remotely cool like that.”

  He laughed. “Not true. When you were little, you played with a werewolf nearly daily. He lived next door to you and your parents. He was such a sweet young boy. Turned into a foul-mouthed heathen.”

  She thought about the man she’d hit with her rental car and the string of obscenities he’d managed to put together. “Does this supposed werewolf still live around these parts?”

  “Yep. Owns a fishing charter service down near the marina,” said Grandpa Wil.

  She thought about the man’s t-shirt and the logo that had been on it. It had said something about a fishing charter. She paled. “He wouldn’t, by chance, be named Hugh, would he?”

  Her grandfather beamed. “Oh, you remember him? I can’t say I’m thrilled he’s who you remember from your time here, but at least it’s a start.”

  “He sort of makes an impression,” she blurted, recalling how incredibly handsome the man had been, even flat on his back, saying things unfit for most ears. She also recalled how much he’d seemed to loathe her family.

  Her grandfather groaned. “Penelope, pick anyone but him. Have you met Curt Warrick yet? Now there is a good-looking young man who has a level head on his shoulders. He’s not driven by testosterone.”

  “So you’re saying Hugh reminds you of a wolf because he’s manly?” she asked with a snort.

  “That, and his kind are prone to fleas.” Her grandfather headed toward the back of the shop, and she followed close behind him. He made his way to the door that separated the house from the store and entered, holding it open for her. They walked into an oversized kitchen. In the center of it was a round table. On it was a teapot, two cups on saucers, and a small plate of mini-sandwiches.

  “Are you expecting someone?” she asked, wondering if, perhaps, he was dating.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I was expecting you.”

  She paused, positive he was only teasing her. He couldn’t have known she was coming, could he? As she thought harder on it, she grinned. “Jolene called you and gave you a heads-up, didn’t she?”

  He drew to a stop at the mention of Jolene. “You met Jolene?”

  “I did. She helped me find the town when I got all turned around out near a lighthouse during the storms.”

  He nodded, worrying his chin. “Cornelius was probably up to his old tricks again.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind,” he said, taking a seat and pouring the tea. “How was Jolene? Did she look healthy?”

  “She twisted her ankle and was limping, but other than that she seemed well,” responded Penelope, unsure why her grandfather was acting so strangely. “She mentioned stopping by later to be sure I was all settled in at the bed-and-breakfast. I could tell her you asked about her.”

  He stiffened. “No. That’s fine. And wait, what is this nonsense about you staying at the B&B? You’ll be staying here, with me. There is plenty of room. I already have your room all set up for you.”

  She took a seat across from him and added a lump of sugar to her tea. “And how was it you knew I’d be coming?”

  “The crystal balls in my inventory told me,” he said, no hint of a joke in his voice.

  She laughed all the same. “Sure, Grandpa. Sure. Are those near the cursed tiki idols?”

  “No. I keep the cursed idols in the basement. They tend to cause trouble if I don’t.” He sipped his tea.

  She laughed, enjoying his active imagination. “Let me guess, they totally disappear and reappear all over the shop?”

  “How did you guess?” he asked, looking impressed.

  She snorted. “Your storytelling always lightens my mood.”

  He continued to sip his tea. “The crystal balls were vague on the details, but they told me you’d be coming.”

  “Did they tell you why?” she asked, her thoughts drifting back to Craig.

  He nodded. “They said you’d come to find your mate and settle down. I’m not sure how that whiny brat you call a boyfriend is going to take the news that you’ll be meeting your future husband, and frankly, I don’t much care.”

  There was so much she wanted to say to his comment, but she didn’t know where to start. “Grandpa, Craig dumped me. He’s engaged to someone else now.”

  “Want me to break his legs?” he asked, no note of teasing in his voice.

  Her eyes widened. “Grandpa!”

  “What? I didn’t offer to kill him. But I could. Just let me know. I can be there and back in the blink of an eye. I have a great piece I picked up in England years ago that lets me teleport.”

  She laughed, assuming he was joking. “You know, talk like that is probably why Deputy March is sure I’m up to no good.”

  Her grandfather touched the table lightly. “You’ve talked with Deputy March?”

  “Yes, he questioned me about two men found dead near the cliffs. He says they suspect foul play and that they’re still trying to identify the men. I guess I was the last person seen in the area before they were found dead.”

  He stood quickly. “I’ll be right back. Watch the shop for me.”

  “Grandpa?”

  He glanced at her. “If any FOLs come in, show them the door with your foot.”

  “FOLs?” she asked, lost as to what was happening.

  “Fraternal Order of Light members,” he said, as if she should know what that means. “They’re always trying to get their hands on my artifacts.”

  She opened her mouth to question it all, but her grandfather continued. “And should someone from the Collective try to come in, the place is warded. Ignore the big boom and the shaking. Happens each time.”

  With that, he hurried out the back door, leaving Penelope sitting there completely dumbfounded. Fraternal Order of Light? Collective? What rabbit hole had she fallen down?

  Chapter Nine

  Penelope busied herself with dusting items in a cabinet that was clearly labeled not for sale as customers looked at the various antiques available in the shop. The shop itself was much larger than it appeared from the street. It had an upper level and an enormous basement, all stuffed to the brim with antiques and artifacts. If her grandfather ever let her have an auction with the items, she could make him a fortune, but that wasn’t his style.

  She knew he did well for himself as noted in the ledgers on the back-office desk, but he lived modestly. She had a lot in common with him. The
ir shared love of antiques and living below their means.

  “I saw them first,” a blonde woman said, grabbing hold of an elephant figurine. Her blonde hair was pulled back so tightly from her face that it pulled at her features, making them look sharp. She held the figure close as another woman, a redhead, gently lifted its twin.

  “Actually, I was here looking at them for the last ten minutes,” said the redhead, her voice soft. Penelope knew the woman was telling the truth. She’d seen the woman there, admiring the figurines, evidently debating on getting them.

  Penelope glanced at the figurines and sighed. No wonder the women wanted them. Her grandfather had scored a matched pair of Chinese famille rose porcelain figures that looked like they might double as candlestick holders. She moved out from behind the counter and approached the women with caution. The blonde especially looked as if she were ready to pounce.

  The woman to the left, with big, bright red curls, looked at Penelope. “I swear that I saw these first. I was trying to decide if I should buy them or not. Then she came along and well…”

  The blonde huffed and lifted her chin. “I want them. I’ll pay double.”

  Penelope held out her hand to the redhead, sensing she’d have a better shot at getting the figure from her rather than the blonde. “If I may.”

  Reluctantly, the redhead handed over the elephant.

  Penelope ran her fingers over the smooth item, impressed with the detail that remained upon it. The colors were still bright. The elephant had a small vase upon its back, painted. The attention to detail was impressive. There wasn’t a chip or fracture on it, a testament to the care that had been taken with it over its long life. A smile touched Penelope’s lips as she realized the item was from the Qing Dynasty. She looked at the blonde. “Double? Are you sure?”

  The woman’s look never faltered. “I know what they’re worth and yes, I’ll pay double.”

  The redhead frowned. “How much is double?”