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

by Mandy M. Roth

  Curt gulped.

  Penelope snorted. “Enough, Grandpa. Stop scaring the poor man, and go release Deputy March. No more tying people up and no making rugs out of anyone.”

  Wilber grumbled as he headed for the door.

  Hugh followed, laughing as he did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As Hugh pulled his diesel pickup truck to a stop outside of an old, rundown cabin in the woods on the outskirts of town, he couldn’t help but look at Wilber. The man hadn’t said much since Hugh had insisted on driving to the location where Wilber was holding Jake. For a brief, tension-filled moment at the start of it all, Wilber had refused to divulge the location he was holding Jake. It wasn’t until after Hugh pointed out Penelope would be furious with him that Wilber conceded and grumbled the address.

  Hugh hadn’t been out on these back roads in years and didn’t think they were traveled on anymore. The roads weren’t in the best shape and many splintered off into unofficial roads that weren’t paved; such was the case with the one they were on now. Thankfully, the storms that had happened closer to town, near the shoreline, hadn’t seemed to dump much rain farther inland. Hugh wasn’t sure he’d have made it down the path had it been muddy.

  The cabin, while standing, looked abandoned. Its windows and front door were boarded up. There were a number of old “no trespassing” signs posted on the edge of the property, near the dirt road. A hand-painted sign was nailed to a tree. It read “Trespassers Won’t Be Seen Again.”

  Hugh nodded to the sign. “That your handiwork?”

  That earned him a smile from the older man. “Yes. Like it?”

  “You’re twisted.”

  “Thanks,” said Wilber, his chest puffing out slightly with pride.

  Hugh knew without a shadow of a doubt that Penelope was his mate. That meant Wilber would be family to him. The idea of it nearly made Hugh groan in frustration.

  “Penelope sees you as a sweet, gentle old man,” said Hugh. “When are you going to tell her that you’re anything but?”

  Wilber stared forward. “I didn’t kill March. He shouldn’t have a bruise on him. I was careful with him.”

  “Because he’s human and hunters live by a code to protect them at all costs,” said Hugh.

  Wilber turned to face him. “March is anything but human. I’m surprised you can’t smell that on him. Your kind are good with scents.”

  Hugh jerked. Jake was a supernatural? No. He couldn’t be. Hugh would have sensed it. He’d have smelled it on him. Wilber was right. Shifters had an amazing ability to pick up scents, even days old. Surely he’d have known if Jake was really something more than human.

  Wilber opened the truck door and jumped out with a speed and grace a man his age shouldn’t still have. Cutting the engine, Hugh took a deep breath, drawing in the scents around him, concerned this might be a trap. He wanted to trust Wilber because of Penelope, but he was smarter than that. When he caught a whiff of Jake’s scent, he relaxed. The faint sound of muffled curses found his sensitive ears, and he knew then Jake was not only still alive, but he was also mad.

  Hugh couldn’t blame him.

  He’d be mad too. Though with Polly’s potion he’d probably start shouting about cats in bikinis or something, so voicing his anger was pointless and humiliating. He followed quickly behind Wilber, catching up to him with ease. They went around the back of the old cabin, around a large woodpile, and to a back porch. The steps were nearly rotted through, so the men walked on the edges of them.

  Wilber put a hand out, stopping Hugh in mid-motion. The older man pointed to a series of stakes that were to the side of the railing at the top of the steps. He then motioned in the direction of a tripwire.

  “Great, I’m on a mission with Rambo,” said Hugh, partially under his breath.

  With a shrug, Wilber stepped over the tripwire. “I didn’t need to tell you about it.”

  “I’m guessing your granddaughter wouldn’t be too happy with you if you staked me.”

  “You’d have lived. Sure, you’d be sore for a few days, but stakes don’t kill shifters,” said Wilber as he went for the back door. He opened it, and Hugh entered behind him.

  When Hugh spotted Jake tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth and the television on the Home Shopping Network, he found himself laughing as well.

  Jake scooted the chair around and then fell onto his side. He looked up at Hugh and then to Wilber. Anger flashed in the deputy’s eyes. Snarling, he said something that was muffled by the gag in his mouth. The fire in the man’s dark gaze said everything he was unable to verbalize.

  Hugh put up his hands. “Relax, we come in peace, and we’re here to spring you.”

  Wilber went to Jake, bent and undid the gag.

  Jake let out of a line of obscenities that made Hugh feel like an amateur. As Wilber undid the ropes binding Jake’s hands, Jake made a move to grab the man.

  Wilber dodged Jake’s grasp and then undid the man’s feet, dodging yet another strike. It looked like the older man was toying with the younger one. Knowing the history of the hunters, Hugh had no doubt that was the case.

  “If you’re finished playing with him,” stressed Hugh to Wilber.

  Sighing, Wilber yanked Jake to his feet and dusted off the man’s uniform shirt. “See. Right as rain. Not a scratch on him.”

  “You’re a regular Boy Scout,” injected Hugh sarcastically.

  Jake glared at Wilber.

  Hugh stepped forward. “I know you’re upset with him. You have every right to be, but hear me out for a minute.”

  Jake eyed him. “I’m past upset. I’m furious.”

  “Noted,” said Hugh.

  “The entire Messing family is full of criminals. He’s proven my point,” snapped Jake.

  Hugh sighed. “Jake, Penelope didn’t kill those men. I think you already know that. Tonight, I took her out on one of my sailboats to the area near the cliff where the bodies were found. While we were there, we were attacked by a kraken.”

  Jake didn’t bother to hide his shock. “I’m sorry, but what did you say attacked you?”

  “A kraken,” repeated Hugh.

  “Those aren’t real,” returned Jake, giving Wilber a threatening look.

  “Yeah, well most would argue that a centaur couldn’t be real, let alone running around town, working as a deputy, and posing for pictures in a calendar. They’d be wrong, wouldn’t they, Deputy March?”

  Hugh gasped. Jake was a centaur?

  Centaurs were real too?

  Suddenly, he got a pretty good idea of what Penelope must feel like, having so much thrown at her that seemed impossible.

  Jake rubbed his wrists and grunted in Wilber’s direction. “I don’t like you.”

  “Get in line, horse-boy,” said Wilber.

  “Yeah, behind me. Though the man is starting to slowly grow on me,” supplied Hugh.

  “Like a rash?” asked Jake.

  Wilber ignored their comments. “What are we going to do about the kraken? One hasn’t been seen around these parts in nearly a hundred years.”

  “Everlasting has a history of krakens?” asked Hugh, dumbfounded.

  “Boy, do you think all those ships years and years ago just up and decided to crash themselves?” Wilber stared at Hugh as if he were a moron.

  “I never actually gave much thought to it,” confessed Hugh.

  “Some sailor you are,” mouthed Wilber.

  Jake went to the side of the cabin, to an old table that looked as though it was standing only because of the amount of dust on it. He retrieved his gun belt and put it on, glaring at Wilber the entire time. “I should arrest you.”

  “Go ahead. Won’t be my first or last time,” said Wilber, holding out his wrists. “Besides, Sheriff Bull adores me. She’ll let me out two minutes after you’re done processing me in.”

  “I think the kraken is what killed the men,” said Hugh. “It got hold of me and let me tell you, it nearly did me in.”

  Jake to
ok in a deep breath, looking tired. “The injuries on the men show they were crushed to death. I assumed a hunter did it. They’re the only ones around here that I know could do that kind of damage. That was before I found out about the kraken.”

  Hugh rubbed his chest, remembering all too well what it felt like to have the kraken’s tentacle wrapped around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. “Oh, trust me, the kraken is more than capable of that.”

  Wilber stepped forward. “You do know those two men were from the Collective, right?”

  Hugh froze. The Collective was back in Everlasting? They were an organization full of power-hungry zealots who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. If they were in town that meant Everlasting had a problem.

  Jake finished securing his gun belt. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” said Wilber, his tone clipped. “And they aren’t the only ones in town.”

  “Fish sticks!” exclaimed Hugh, drawing amused looks from the other men. He offered a hand gesture that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

  Jake snorted. “There is the Hugh I know.”

  “Let’s get out of here and try to hunt down this kraken,” said Hugh.

  “It did us a favor,” said Wilber. “It killed two men who would have no doubt done something horrible here in town.”

  Hugh agreed to a point. “But it attacked Penelope and me. That means innocents could end up hurt. We need to stop it before someone else ends up dead.”

  “How does one find a kraken?” asked Jake.

  Wilber shut off the television. “We go fishing. But not until tomorrow night. They tend to hunt only after the sun has set.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Penelope entered Witch’s Brew and instantly felt at home. Nothing in the small coffee shop matched furniture wise, but that only added to the charm. It was the type of place one would want to come with a book to enjoy a cup of coffee and a good read.

  Several people moved past her to the exit and their tables filled quickly with new customers. The place was busy especially with how early it was. Penelope had woken at the crack of dawn to find a note from her grandfather telling her to sleep in and leave the shop closed for the day. He also mentioned he was with Hugh and not to worry.

  Of course, that made her worry.

  She’d found Buster asleep in another guest room, and she’d left him there to shower and ready herself for the day. Curt had left a note on the kitchen table, letting her know he’d called in Buster to watch over her because he was worried Hugh, Jake, and Wilber would kill themselves if left unattended. He was probably right.

  Buster hadn’t budged as she’d let herself out of the house. There was no way she could stay confined to her grandfather’s home after learning that things that went bump in the night were not only real, but able to nearly sink a boat.

  No. She needed to be out and about.

  She was too curious to do nothing, and if she was right, Polly would be able to shed more light on it all. There was an older woman behind the counter, wearing an apron that said “Kiss the Witch, I’m not Irish.” Though the woman was wearing a large shamrock necklace in direct contradiction to her apron. Her unnaturally red hair was pulled up in a tight bun. Penelope wasn’t certain, but the woman’s earrings looked to be dice. Nothing about the woman’s outfit made sense, but then again, Penelope’s chosen attire rarely fit together either.

  Case in point, Penelope was currently in a red baby doll cotton dress that had small black antique bicycles printed on it. She wore it with a pair of black tights and thigh-high black leather boots that had a two-inch heel. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she had on a medium-gray sweater duster.

  The woman glanced up briefly, smiled, and then looked at something on the floor behind the counter. “Herman, behave yourself.”

  Wondering what was happening, Penelope moved closer to the counter and leaned. There, on the floor, was an inflated, small baby pool with a lobster in it. The thing actually appeared to be looking up at the redheaded woman. It snapped its claw a few times in what seemed like protest.

  The redhead scowled. “Enough of that or I’ll get the rubber bands out. I know how you hate those.”

  Without a doubt, the redhead had to be the woman Penelope was searching for. “Polly?”

  The redhead stared up at her and smiled wide. “Penelope! I wondered when you’d stop by. I have your order ready.”

  “My order?” asked Penelope. She hadn’t ordered anything. And how did the woman know her name?

  Polly stepped away from the counter and returned with a to-go box. She handed it to Penelope. “Cranberry scones and cheesecake.”

  Stunned, Penelope just stood there. “Did my grandfather call this in?”

  Polly glanced down at the lobster. “One more outburst like that and it’s back to the tank with you, young man.”

  “Um, excuse me,” Penelope said, unsure if she should interrupt the woman who was having a one-sided argument with a lobster. Was this the same woman everyone had talked about? No one mentioned she talked to lobsters.

  “Yes?” asked Polly. “Did you want me to include cranberry toppings for the cheesecake? You should know, Hugh doesn’t like them. He’ll like it plain better. Trust me.”

  Confused, Penelope stood there with a blank expression on her face.

  Polly grinned. “Oh, and don’t tell Hugh the scones and cheesecake are from me.”

  Penelope snapped out of her stupor. “Because he’ll get fleas again?”

  Tsking, Polly shook her head. “I didn’t intend for that to happen. In my defense, how was I to know the area had an uptick in fleas during that time? I can hardly be blamed for that.” She leaned closer to the counter and lowered her voice. “If anyone asks, I had nothing to do with the locust incident last year.”

  “Got it. You’re innocent in that respect,” said Penelope as she began to follow along with the woman’s strange string of logic. She found it endearing and Polly adorable.

  With a wink, Polly pushed the to-go box at Penelope. “You’re a good star fruit.”

  Star fruit?

  The woman sounded like Hugh.

  Penelope laughed softly. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  Petey entered the coffee shop and stopped just inside the door. He held a wadded-up newspaper in one arm and with his free hand he smoothed his unruly hair to one side. It instantly poked back up as if it had never been touched. He had on a pair of jean overalls and a green plaid shirt. He rounded off his look with a pair of fishing boots.

  When he spotted Penelope, he smiled wide. “How was your romantic evening? You didn’t eat the fish sticks, did you?”

  She took a deep breath. “It was different. By chance have you talked to Hugh yet?”

  “No. His main fishing charter boat was gone when I got up. I’m taking a group of tourists out later, and hadn’t noticed another group on the books for this morning,” said Petey. He glanced forward and then cleared his throat before handing the newspaper to Penelope.

  She took it—and instantly regretted the decision. It smelled horrible. “What is in this?”

  “The catch of the day. I gotta give it to my love muffin before Anna gets back or she’ll yell at me again,” said Petey.

  Penelope followed his gaze to find Polly there, taking a tray of fresh-baked muffins from the oven.

  Petey reached into his back pocket and pulled out a fifth of whiskey. He opened it and dabbed some on his fingertips before rubbing it on his face as if it were aftershave.

  Gasping, Penelope shook her head, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Petey, what are you doing?”

  “I want to smell good for Polly, my goddess, my sweet Venus, the bread to my butter, the bait to my hook,” he said proudly.

  She sighed. “Oh, Petey, that isn’t the way to do it.”

  “It’s not?” he asked, looking confused.

  Penelope glanced up to see Polly busy helping
other customers. “No. I can help you if you want. We should also talk about what happened last night.”

  He grunted. “What did Hugh screw up this time? Did you hit him with a boat instead of a car? He probably deserved it.”

  “It involved a kraken,” said Penelope, doing her best to keep her voice down.

  “A kraken!” shouted Petey, drawing the attention of other patrons of the coffee shop.

  Polly looked up, holding a coffeepot, her eyes wide. “Oh, not again.”

  A heavily tattooed woman came rushing in, nearly knocking the wadded newspaper that smelled like death from Penelope’s hands.

  The woman paused. “Sorry.” She looked toward Polly. “I’m sorry I’m late. Thanks for covering for me.”

  “I love helping, Marcy,” said Polly, refilling a man’s coffee. “Think nothing of it. Did you finish all the deliveries?”

  “I did. Took me longer than normal because several tourists got into a fender bender over on Main Street.” Marcy moved behind the counter and put on an apron. She glanced at the tray of muffins Polly had pulled from the oven and frowned. “Tell me you weren’t baking again, Polly.”

  Polly pointed at Penelope. “She did it! Ask Herman, he’ll back me up.”

  Marcy snorted. “Okay, but if Anna asks I’m going to lie.”

  Polly grinned. “Good call.”

  A man in a tracksuit walked up to the counter and ordered a muffin. Marcy went to grab one of the freshly baked ones but Polly was there in an instant, slapping the woman’s hand lightly. “That isn’t for him.” She pulled two raisin cookies with two large dates on top from the display case and handed them to the man. “Here.”

  He looked at them as if they might bite. “I want a blueberry muffin.”

  “No, you don’t. You want this. It will get you regular and back on track in no time,” said Polly with a wide smile.

  The man grunted, but paid for his cookies and left quickly.

  “Poor Jerry. He’s always cranky when he’s bound up. Plus, I added a little something special to help with his hair loss.”