Shifted: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Minded, #3

By R.L. Merrill

Maggie and Louis, Intervention Specialists from the Afterlife, are used to the unusual—or so they think—but a 500lbs alligator on the run, a mute witch with wonky magic, and a vulgar, talking cat are more than they bargained for. Welcome to Assjacket, West Virginia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Merrill
• Release date: Jun 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393431152

R.L. Merrill

Author of Haunted and Teacher series, and winner of the Kathryn Hayes “When Sparks Fly” Best Contemporary award for Hurricane Reese. “With a strong plot, an expertly crafted cast of supporting characters, and deep empathy, Merrill’s novel will keep readers hooked.” —Publishers Weekly review of Typhoon Toby. R.L. Merrill brings you stories of Hope, Love, and Rock 'n' Roll featuring quirky and relatable characters. Whether she’s writing about contemporary issues that affect us all or diving deep into the paranormal and supernatural to give readers a shiver, she loves creating compelling stories that will stay with readers long after. Ro spends every spare moment improving her writing craft and striving to find that perfect balance between real life and happily ever after. She writes LGBTQ romances for Dreamspinner Press, contributes paranormal hilarity to Robyn Peterman’s Magic and Mayhem Universe and works on various other projects that tickle her fancy or benefit a worthy cause. You can find her lurking on social media where she loves connecting with readers, educating America’s youth, raising two brilliant teenagers, trying desperately to get that back piece finished in the tattoo chair, or headbanging at a rock show near her home in the San Francisco Bay Area! Stay Tuned for more Rock 'n' Romance.

Book preview

Prologue

Hildy sat in the waiting area of what looked like a principal’s office with her hands clutched in her lap. Not that she’d ever been in a human high school before, but she’d seen Grease. She knew the deal. The place had enough of an ominous presence that she could sympathize with any kid who had to sit in this seat. She was there by choice and had to remind herself that she was a grown-ass, albeit dead, witch with plentiful power at her disposal. She had nothing to fear from a human high school administrator.

Maybe it was the way the secretary kept staring at her as though she had snakes for hair or something—which she didn’t, thank goodness, although she admired Gorgons for their no-nonsense approach to matters—or the discomfort of the hard, plastic chairs that had her so unsettled. She’d agreed not to use her Goddess-given talents here—they were forbidden in this realm—so she did her best to take deep, cleansing breaths. Not so deep, though, as to inhale the stench of adolescent hormones that permeated the place, even in The Afterlife.

She will see you now, the secretary said in a meek voice. The woman pointed to the wooden door with the frosted glass. Right through there. Hildy supposed the woman could tell she wasn’t like their usual visitors. She’d be right to remember that.

Thank you, Hildy said. She stood and righted her black pencil skirt, part of a power suit in black with an orange silk blouse beneath. She had a promise to keep, a debt to repay, and she intended to honor it.

When her hand touched the doorknob, she felt the power of the woman inside emanating through the brass. With one more steadying breath, she opened the door.

You have come from the Next Adventure. This must be important if the Goddess allowed you to cross over.

You know who I am?

The desk plate read Elizabeth Brown, Administrator. This woman wore a pastel-pink knit cardigan with a white blouse underneath, her silver hair pulled back in a bun. Reading glasses perched judgmentally on her nose. The only other jewelry she wore was a pair of simple gold post earrings. Things were so different here in Afterlife compared to Next Adventure. So serious. So dull. So plain.

Quite the drab establishment you’ve got here.

Elizabeth laced her fingers on the desk in front of her. She looked more like someone’s grandmother than a school principal, but Hildy figured there was a reason for that. Humans, even in their afterlife, had to have a reason for everything.

This is the first stop on the journey for those with D.D.S., or Death Denial Syndrome. It is our goal to make it a place they’ll recognize and feel comfortable in, but not so comfortable that they’ll want to stay. It is a transitional terminal.

Hildy looked around, figuring she was right. She sure as heck wouldn’t want to stay here. I’m here because I made a promise, long ago, and since I’ve passed on, I’m unable to do what needs to be done.

Elizabeth gestured for Hildy to take a seat in a worn leather armchair in front of the desk. It really felt odd to be sitting in a place of submission to someone who didn’t possess near the amount of power as Hildy, even in death, but she was out of her element and needed this woman’s cooperation.

And this promise you made, why do you need my help?

I’m not able to return to the living world. The Goddess felt this situation didn’t warrant an exception. She granted me permission to come to you, but not to go below, myself. She told me you have…personnel who can accomplish this mission.

Elizabeth regarded her with a suspicious glint in her eye. It depends on what needs doing. We have strict rules about where we’re allowed to intervene, but maybe we can help each other. I, too, have a creature who needs minding.

Hildy leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow. Then let me tell you a story.

Chapter One

Louis

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The San Francisco Bay waters were unusually calm this evening. A gentle breeze blew against Louis Sheffield’s mohawk and lifted Maggie’s curls as she kicked her legs out in front of her and threw her head back with a laugh. Maggie played on a swing set as though she were a small child and not the alluring woman he currently worked alongside. She whooped and hollered and screamed while Louis shook his head. It wasn’t as if anyone could hear her, and even if she flew off the blasted contraption, she wouldn’t be harmed. She was determined to swing as high as she could, and Louis was inclined to let her have a bit of fun before it was time for them to move on.

Acting as Intervention Specialists in The Afterlife often meant periods of downtime that could be quite boring, but watching Maggie provided entertainment. Before she’d come along, Louis hated the downtime. Time eternal was much better spent busy, as far as he was concerned. The idle periods led to reflection, which for Louis led to regret. Louis had no time for regret. Regret was for wankers.

Why can’t we fly, Louis? That would be so cool! Or, like, walk through walls or something. I mean, being invisible is awesome, but we only get to spy on our tasks. I want to, like, sneak into George Lucas’s studios and listen to him and J.J. Abrams plot about the next Star Wars films! That would be amazing!

Louis frowned. You mean that rubbish film about the boy fighting with a light stick against the asthmatic bloke? They made more than one?

Maggie sat motionless on the swing, allowing it to slow, and stared at him blankly.

Louis couldn’t resist dropping such comments. Of course he’d kept up with Star Wars; at least, he knew they’d put out more movies. It was only one of the most important bits of pop culture he’d ever experienced. He almost longed for an afterlife where he could catch up on all the films he’d missed during the past thirty-something years he’d been dead, starting with the rest of the original Star Wars Trilogy. He’d died in 1983 just before Empire Strikes Back came out. There hadn’t been time to see the rest, but he knew bits and pieces of the story anyway.

Once he’d realized how much fun Maggie had poking at him, he couldn’t resist doing it right back. He had to get in another dig. And are you sure you’re from Louisiana? You say ‘like’ more than four girls from the Valley put together.

The corner of his mouth turned up and Maggie rolled her eyes.

Ha ha, funny guy. She stood from the swings and walked over to where he was sitting on a giant concrete whale.

How much of what’s happened since you died do you know about? I don’t know anything, but then, I was in ‘denial’ when I was assigned to you. She used finger quotes and ended her sentence with an eyeroll. She began playing absently with the laces of his boot. Will we know what goes on?

At moments like this, she seemed so vulnerable. He worried she regretted the decision she’d made to stay with him after her task was finished. She often stared into the horizon and squinted her eyes just a tad before inhaling a huge breath, her chin raising with the movement. She’d exhale in a puff of air and nod as if she’d come to some sort of decision.

I pick up information here and there, while doing tasks, or conversing with another person in my line of work.

Do you ever feel like you’re missing out? She didn’t look at him, she merely fidgeted with his bootlaces.

He shrugged and took out his cigarette pack, smacking it against his left palm before drawing one out. He still enjoyed the ritual; the sound of the pack hitting his hand, shaking one out, the feel of the cylindrical demon wrapped in paper between his fingers, the flex of muscles that brought his hand to his lips, and finally, the gentle pressure of his mouth cradling the cancer stick.

He lit the cigarette with his Zippo then put the pack and lighter back in the pocket of his leather jacket taking a long drag. He had to think of the best way to answer her.

No, he didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything, especially now that she was here to keep him company. As much as he complained, he’d actually never been happier than he’d been with Maggie. Dead or alive.

What’s there to miss? Boring, ignorant people prattling on about boring, ignorant topics, acting like wankers… Bloody awful. It’s much more peaceful in The Afterlife.

She didn’t seem to agree with him. He sighed, wishing somehow he could make her happy, make her glad she’d chosen to stay with him. Tough proposition when he was such a prick.

So what’s our next task? That last one was amazing! I loved all those puppies! Say we get to do something fun like that again.

Maggie had been excited about their matchmaking assignment. Justin Rivers was a talented guy with a heart of gold and a brain injury that affected his speech. The Old Chap had decided Justin needed an intervention to get him moving forward after his accident, and just like that, Charlotte had been reborn from the waters of the Bay into the body of a goddess for the purpose of giving Justin a reason. Poetry in action. Louis had been quite pleased with the outcome of the intervention he and Maggie had put into place, and he felt a sense of accomplishment when the couple married shortly after meeting. He and Maggie hung around longer than usual to see whether everything turned out grand for them.

We go where we’re meant, Party Girl. That’s the rules. Although occasionally I do just like to wander. Like now. They’d followed Justin and Charlotte down the walking path next to the Bay and watched them hold hands as they strolled along. Louis thought Maggie would burst into tears when Charlotte informed Justin they were expecting. Twins, just like he and his brother. Her eyes had glistened as she’d gazed up at Louis triumphantly. But instead of crying, Maggie high-fived him and did a little victory dance that showed off her toned legs. Louis hadn’t let on just how much he enjoyed her reaction.

Now it was time for them to move on, but he rather liked the solitude of this place. Leave it to Maggie to get excited about a playground. He couldn’t help but give her whatever she wanted. He complained loudly to keep her off balance, but he thoroughly enjoyed every moment with her.

Maggie

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Swinging! Oh, how she’d loved to swing on the swing set Daddy had built for her and her little brother Devon. Of course, as he and their male cousins and friends grew older, they’d trashed the thing. It had pissed Maggie off, but what could she do? There was just something soothing about hurling one’s body through space only semi-controlled. Any second you could go flying off into the air and break bones.

Maggie didn’t have to worry about that anymore. She was dead.

Her name was Maggie Stone. Or just Maggie. She’d decided to drop the Stone, like the dead weight her ex-husband had turned out to be. Maybe she’d go back to her maiden name, Boudreaux. She’d always loved that name. Not that it really mattered now. She was a ghost. Sort of. She’d gone from being stuck in Purgatory, which was basically a self-help group for people with D.D.S.—Death Denial Syndrome—to saving the world one soul at a time with the stuck-up, yet ridiculously attractive Louis Sheffield, previously of the London punk scene.

She’d snapped out of her D.D.S. quickly when given the chance to go back and mind her kin: her cousins, friends, and her beloved brother, the members of metal group Maggie’s Bones. They’d been a wreck since her death and had drifted apart. Maggie made them sit down and work out their differences using a little possession trick Louis had taught her, and it worked perfectly. Afterward, she was given the choice to go on to The Afterlife or disappear into the ether; the final peace.

She’d decided to turn the tables. She latched on to Louis and informed him she’d be staying with him to add a woman’s touch to the work he did.

Sometimes they guided a recently departed soul through their choice, sometimes they intervened to save a soul that was still needed on earth for some important reason. Like their last job. Maggie got to actually watch a soul be reborn into a new life in order to save the soul