There.
That was probably the catch Wanda was talking about.
Chapter 5
Murphy nodded her head as Marty and Wanda, with the occasional spirited swear word from Nina, explained what had actually occurred to her and Nova, while they sat once more in the vampire’s beautiful kitchen.
And as the very wee small hours of three a.m. rang in, according to the shiny clock on the gorgeous chef’s eight-burner stove, she could do nothing more than nod her head when they asked if she understood, because she wasn’t prone to hysterics and she wasn’t going to start having them now. And though on the inside, she felt like she was on the Teacup ride at Disney World, she would maintain her calm on the outside.
Even if her outside was Pepto-Bismol pink.
Wanda grabbed her hand and rubbed her own over it to warm her icy fingers, giving her a kind smile. “Murphy, honey? Are you absorbing any of this? Any at all?”
She found herself curling her fingers around Wanda’s hand and clinging. She never clung. She was the person Nova clung to. She was the rock. She handled all the problems, but right now, she needed to hang on to something, and Wanda was so kind and warm, it was weakening her tough facade.
Choosing her words carefully, she said, “You know, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve heard everything you said, but only half of it is sticking. Yet, I can’t help but ask probably the least important and vainest question out of everything you’ve told me that actually did stick. And when I say it’s the least important, I mean, it’s the least important. It pales in comparison to horns and pointy ears, because those I can hide or at least work around.”
All she could think about when she’d heard she had horns and pointy ears was how could she ever meet with a Kardashian publicist if she had horns? How does one conduct business with horns?
“What’s the question, honey?” Marty asked, cocking her head so her hair cascaded over her shoulder, almost reaching her waist.
Murphy gulped around the dry spot in her throat and clung even harder to Wanda’s hand. “Am I always going to be pink?” She hated that the last word came out as a squeak, but this troubled her more than anything else.
Her hair she could color, her horns and ears she could hide with a hat. But you couldn’t cover pink skin.
Because good God and some kittens, she was really pink. Her skin was legit pink—and her hair? Her long, once dirty-blonde hair—the hair Nova was forever trying to talk her into decorating with highlights from her hairdresser, Joaquin—was almost fuchsia.
“No. Not once I teach you how to switch to your human form,” said a gruff voice she couldn’t find the will to be mad at.
She wanted to address this strangely beautiful-to-look-at man who stood above her, occasionally chiming in as the women explained her circumstances, but she almost felt as though acknowledging his existence would confirm the fact that she, too, was now a troll.
Which was silly. Who could deny something had happened to her, and the word to describe that something was troll?
Instead, Murphy looked away and simply nodded, her gaze flitting over Nova’s still form on the couch in the other room, seeing her chest rise and fall in deep sleep.
Marty had explained that the conversion to troll, currently at work in Nova’s body, had made her fall into a deep sleep after seeing Sten for the first time, and they’d moved her to the couch.
Wasn’t it just like her sister to sleep in when there was work to be done?
“Murphy?” the deep voice said as he forced his way into her line of vision. “I hope you’ll accept my apology. I deeply regret this turn of events. There’s nothing I can do about this now but apologize and promise to help you adjust to your new life.”
She looked down at the mark his knife had left. It was hardly even a scratch. How could that possibly mean an entirely new life?
“Murphy?” the large man inquired again, planting his big hand on his hip.
Okay, so it was time to face this head on, and part of that was looking at him and acknowledging he existed.
And jeepers, did he ever exist.
He filled up Nina’s huge kitchen with his massiveness. It wasn’t so much that he was muscles personified, or that he was the size of an oak tree in height. It was his presence.
His presence pulsated, emanating powerful strength and oozing confidence, and it overwhelmed her—made her feel as though she were drowning. She wasn’t particularly timid, she knew how to take care of business, but this man?
He was a whole lotta charisma, and he hadn’t spoken but a paragraph so far. Not to mention, he filled out a sweater and a pair of jeans in a way that left her mouth dry and her thoughts jumbled—which was also kind of odd, upon reflection. She couldn’t remember the last man with crazy green hair she’d found as attractive as she found him.
Swallowing her fear on a loud gulp, Murphy stuck out her hand and pretended she was making a deal with some big clothing company or talking to a celebrity’s publicist.
“Hello. Murphy Umanski.”
Sten took her fingers in his much larger hand and gave them a quick shake, making her mouth go drier and her knees feel unstable. His skin was warm and a little calloused, and not at all pink like hers.
“Hello, Murphy. My name is Sten Peerson, in case you missed it in this information overload. I’m truly sorry for what’s happened. I take full responsibility. I know that doesn’t feel like much, considering the magnitude of what’s occurred to you and Nova, but I’ll do all I can to help you both. I hope you’ll let me.”
He paused then, his sharp, square jaw clenching as he very obviously let her digest his words.
Her thoughts were a swirl of chaos in her head, but if she hoped to get it together for Nova’s sake—Nova, who, as a by the by, had it far worse than she did—she had to begin to comprehend what to do next.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she resolved to stay focused and not panic. “Okay, so, Sten Peerson. Am I hearing right when I hear you say I’m a troll? Like one of those good luck charms little old ladies use at bingo games? Or the ones people hang from their rearview mirrors?”
His orange eyes, so round and wide and fringed with dark lashes, zeroed in on her face…and then he smiled, and Murphy had to admit—even with all the turmoil surrounding them—his smile was delicious.
It was magic.
Deep grooves appeared on either side of his mouth, and they deepened as his smile grew wider, revealing white, straight teeth and a nice pair of lips.
He crossed his own arms over his broad chest, a chest covered by a black sweater that made his wild thatch of green hair almost greener. “Bingo? Really?”
Murphy bobbed her head. “It’s like a religion for some. Our grandmother used to line them up on her table when she played at the VFW Hall, and they had to be in a certain formation or it was bad luck.
Now he gave her a lopsided grin that was sexy as hell. “That’s pretty funny. But no. Not quite the same. Not like the movie, either, as a by the way. We live lives just like you. Some of us here in the human world and some of us in another realm.”
Realm? What?
Murphy gripped the countertop until her fingers hurt and her dizziness passed. Marty came to stand near her, putting an arm around her waist to keep her steady.
“Realm? Do you mean like away from Earth?” She swept her hands in a dramatic “away” motion. “Do I have to live in another realm? Because I can’t live in another realm! No, no, no. I have to take care of Nova. If I’m not here, she’ll spend all her money on overpriced clothing and a plethora of Gucci sunglasses. She’ll have no retirement fund if I leave her to her own devices, Mr. Peerson. But you know what she will have? A condo in Bora Bora with a glass bottom so she can see the little fishies, and a Shaman who got his certificate to spiritually heal online in a course that cost fifteen ninety-nine. So, I repeat, I can’t live in another realm!” Murphy shouted, realizing her hysteria was getting the best of her but incapable of stifli
ng it.
Sten reached out and placed a large, long-fingered hand on her shoulder that almost made her jump out of her skin, and not because it was unpleasant.
“Murphy, you don’t have to live in The Realm. You can keep right on living the life you’ve always lived, with very few exceptions. Yet, should you change your mind, we’d welcome you to The Realm. And,” he said with great pause, “as an ironic side note, your sister sounds a lot like my sister.”
Murphy’s head popped up, along with her internal antennae. “You have a family?”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I do. Just like anyone else. Trolls need love, too.”
Murphy threw up a finger. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Of course you have a family. Why shouldn’t trolls have families just like everyone else? Do they live under a toadstool? Bridge? My knowledge of trolls is very, very limited. Very limited. In fact, I don’t think I know anything about trolls. We weren’t taught about trolls in school. Greek mythology? Yes. The Boston Tea Party? Yes. King Tut? Yes-yes. Trolls? No-no. No trolls.”
Wanda stepped in front of Sten and his bigness, flouncing blatantly all over the kitchen, and put her hands on Murphy’s shoulders, even as Marty continued to lend her strong body for support by clinging to Murphy’s waist.
“You’re spiraling, Murphy. Take a deep breath, look at me, and I beg of you, try not to project. Let’s take it one thing at a time, okay?”
“One pink thing at a time?” she spouted, and then giggled.
Maybe because she was tired, or maybe because this was hilarious and tragic all at the same time.
Wanda winced but she let a small chuckle escape her lips. “Breathe, honey. Just breathe.”
Inhaling, she focused on Wanda’s beautiful face and perfect makeup and forced herself to calm. Closing her eyes, she took one last deep breath before she popped them back open and made herself face this problem without sarcasm.
Looking to Sten, she apologized with her eyes as well as her words. “I’m sorry. I’m usually pretty good in a crisis, but I guess maybe not so good when the crisis involves me rather than Nova. I have a million questions and fears swirling through my head, and I don’t know where to begin, so words are just falling out of my mouth and I don’t know how to stop them—”
“It’s okay, Murphy. I completely understand,” Sten reassured, his tone soothing and warm. And nice.
He was really nice.
He was being too easygoing about all this. Too nice. The women had told her a thing or two about their own accidental turnings, right after they’d starred in their very own Syfy Channel special in the driveway, and their experiences had been anything but easy.
Not a lot of the information they’d rattled off had stuck with her, but some of it had, and the most important thing that had stuck was how hard it had been to adjust to their new lives as paranormals. It had peaks and valleys, and the valleys were “fucking ocean-deep,” so sayeth Nina.
Looking up at big, sugar-coating-the-situation Sten, Murphy stared him right in the eye. “So what’s next? You make this all sound like it’s no big deal, and I can keep right on living my life as though this is nothing more than a blip in the road, but that can’t be right, Sten Peerson. Because these women, if what they told me is true, all had accidents, and now their lives are very different, and it was a long road to a semblance of normalcy with many peaks and ocean-fucking-deep valleys, as Nina so bluntly put it. So I’m not sure if you’re selling me a bill of goods because you don’t want me to freak out—or because it’s true. Which is it?”
Sten’s orange eyes, with their pupils the color of black olives, looked back at her. “I’m telling you the truth. For you, not much has to change. For Nova—”
“Sten? Where are you?” a voice that sounded very familiar called out.
Why did she know that voice?
As the clomp of heels hitting the white-washed oak flooring in Nina’s castle grew closer, Murphy, still half clinging to the countertop, half clinging to Marty, held her breath.
“There you are!”
When Murphy realized who the voice was attached to, she almost collapsed.
What the…?
Before she could prevent herself, Murphy blurted out, “Bellamy Peerson? What the hell are you doing here?”
Bellamy and her sister had hated each other for quite some time now. They’d been each other’s competition ever since they’d exploded onto Instagram around the same time, but things had only become worse between them when Bellamy had accused Nova of sleeping with her assistant’s boyfriend.
Then the war between them had become ugly.
It was so odd that she was here.
The room went silent, with all eyes on Murphy—until all at once, she began connecting the dots.
Bellamy Peerson had the same last name as Sten. They were related.
Duh, Murphy. Way to Sherlock.
But how were they related, and what the hell was going on?
Sten frowned at Bellamy as, with a point of his finger at one of the kitchen island chairs and a stern voice, he said, “You. Please sit. Don’t move a single muscle. Not one, or I swear to Odin, you’ll regret it.”
Then he turned to Murphy and softened his voice. “Murphy, this is my sister, Bellamy. And she’s the reason you’re here tonight, and she’s going to make this right if it’s the last thing she does.”
Murphy’s mouth opened and shut more times than she probably would have liked while she forced her scattered brain to put it together, but it just wasn’t making total sense.
Sliding to the edge of the stool she only half sat on, Murphy looked to Bellamy—in her white jeggings and white turtleneck with matching winter-white trench coat and big gold hoops in her ear—and then she looked to Sten.
“So she’s…”
Sten nodded. “Responsible for this entire mess. Aren’t you, Bellamy?”
Bellamy—beautiful, slender, tall, Nova’s nemesis—rolled her eyes dismissively. “I guess I am.” Her answer was so offhand, it rankled, but Murphy tried to keep her cool.
Murphy licked her lips as she stared at the gorgeous Bellamy in the middle of this beautiful kitchen, who eyed her with very distinct contempt.
“So all this time…you’re telling me… I mean, she’s always been a troll, like…”
“Like me. Yes. Bellamy’s a troll like me. A troll who’s in some serious consequences-are-owed trouble.” Sten nodded his head again, his silky green hair falling around his chin.
Bellamy made a face, her glassy green eyes wide and sparkling-angry when she looked at her brother with a defiant glare. “Shut up, Sten! I’m an adult. I can do what I want. You can’t ground me like some teenager!”
Sten’s luscious lips thinned. “I’d definitely say this foolishness was very adult of you, Bellamy, wouldn’t you? So, no. No, you can’t do what you want, because guess who’s the king and who isn’t?” he ground out from between clenched teeth.
“The king?” Murphy repeated woodenly. How preposterous.
“I’ll explain that later,” he assured her.
Murphy stuck her hands in the pockets of her baggy sweater and clenched her fists.
Oh, the heat on her cheeks was rising to epic proportions, and a surge of adrenaline was thrusting its way along her veins. She couldn’t hear anything but the thrash of her pulse as her thoughts spun like a wheel in her brain.
Squinting her eyes, Murphy sucked in her cheeks before she said, “Okay, so forget the bit about the king. Let’s go back to your sister. So your sister is a troll, and she’s who did this to…to…”
“To Nova,” Sten finished for her. “Yes. I was just getting to that.”
Rocking back and forth from foot to foot while everyone gave her tentative glances, Murphy’s eyes landed on gorgeous Bellamy with her deep chestnut hair falling all around her shoulders and her razor-sharp cheekbones.
“So you—Bellamy Peerson, of Instagram fame—you did this to my sister?” She fought not to hiss the
words.
Bellamy shrugged as though she’d done nothing more than call Nova a silly name. She glanced at her pointy fingernails painted a pale pink and sighed. “I guess so.”
“You guess so?” Murphy squeaked in disbelief. “You guess so?”
Bellamy blinked and stared boldly back at Murphy. “That’s what I said. Are you deaf?”
“Bellamy!” Sten thundered, clapping his hand on the island countertop. “Enough!”
Nina was suddenly in the mix, her face angry as she approached Bellamy. “Hey, Glamor Puss, knock it the fuck off with the cavalier attitude, or I’m gonna show you what some goddamn remorse is all about. You fucked up. Don’t stand there like you don’t owe a bitch something.”
Bellamy’s eyes went wide, her expression one of disbelief, as though Nina, a common serf, had dared to address the queen.
“Excuse me? Who exactly are you? No one. That’s who. So if I were you, I’d back right off—and while you’re at it, trim your ends. They’re split.” Then she flicked her fingers in Nina’s face.
Had Murphy not been so riled by this woman’s arrogance, had she not been so disgusted by how unbothered she was over what she’d done to Nova, she was certain Nina would have gotten to Bellamy long before her.
Because Bellamy had virtually dismissed Nina and no one who liked living would have balls that big.
But with outrage and disbelief comes a surge of adrenaline, herculean in its manifestation.
And that’s exactly what happened to Murphy.
Without thought, without even the blink of an eye, she shoved Nina out of the way with a growl and launched herself at Bellamy, knocking her over to the satisfying tune of clattering chairs and Bellamy’s loud screech of terror.
And then she prepared to kill her.
The Accidental Troll Page 5