Fang Me Three Times: Magic and Mayhem Universe: The Miscreants, #1

By R.L. Merrill

Three kisses will break the curse, but what if your Prince Charming can't hold back the fang?

 

Cursed witch Wilma Wetter is proud to represent her magical Germanic ancestors as a weather forecaster, even if it means taking a job in a town called Assjacket, West Virginia. While tracking the weather before an historic lunar eclipse, she and her trusty camerawoman Jules come across three ridiculously attractive rock stars wandering in the woods. Confused, starving, and sporting new fangs, the men explain they're looking for their lost bandmate who was seen in the area. Wilma finds herself stupidly attracted to their frontman—so she does what any wonky witch would do: loads them into a van and takes them to the town alpha. 

 

Gustavo "Gus Valens" Valenzuela comes from a rock 'n' roll family and has been living the dream since joining his cousins in forming The Miscreants, but a hazy meeting with insistent groupies leaves The Miscreants forever changed. And hungry. Meeting Wilma is a blessing, until he discovers that their meeting was more than a chance encounter.

 

Gus holds the key to awakening Wilma's latent powers, held in check by an ancient family curse. Can he help her break it without changing her life forever? And would change necessarily be a bad thing? 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celie Bay Publications, LLC
• Release date: Oct 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393530992

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

Chapter One

Wilma

You got a little something on your neck.

I know Jules meant well. It was her job to make me look fabulous as the weather forecaster for Assjacket’s local TV station, W-ASS, but I didn’t need her to point out my many imperfections. Next thing, she’d be reminding me about my magical shortcomings.

It’s my birthmark, okay? I ran out of concealer. Give me a break.

Jules pouted. Sorry, babe. I forgot. It sure looks bigger tonight, though. Is that normal?

Goddess! Jules! You know it gets bigger on a full moon! And since tonight’s a lunar eclipse, it’s extra sensitive. 

The annoying mark had been stinging all day. It covered an area the size of a nickel on the left side of my neck and rose like a lovely, ripe bruised berry once a month, compliments of my Germanic witch ancestry. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay. Let’s have you stand over there and give me some right-side action, then. It’s your hottest angle anyway.

I rolled my eyes. Jules always did her best to make me feel like a badass weather chick, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

I brushed my strawberry-blonde hair out of my face, grateful I’d had it blown out earlier at the hairdresser. Tonight was a big night for our little news show, and I wanted to look great. 

It was a still night out in the woods, thankfully. There was no wind, a blessing after the series of thunderstorms we’d had that week. Typically the weather in Assjacket was pretty close to perfection, thanks to the high level of magical activity.

Not that I was responsible for any of it. I should have been, but that’s a story for a later time. 

I thought I’d have you stand on the bridge while the eclipse is happening. I can get some great shots beforehand.

The abutment will make a nice backdrop.

You said butt. Jules held a hand to her mouth and giggled. 

"I did say butt. I’m glad you’re amused, now come on, let’s get ready."

Jules had the best eye for camerawork. Many people lauded the impressive visual prowess of Cooper’s hawk Shifters, but Jules could back that up with mad creativity and skills. She should be more than being my cameraperson. I keep telling her she should go to film school, like she wanted to, but she waved off all compliments. 

Thank you, Jules. We need to go live in six minutes to give the weather update on the eleven o’clock news, and then we can take a break until we get the shots at midnight.

Right on, Jules said. Let me get my tripod set up.

I held my microphone confidently and waited for Jules to give me the signal. 

And three…two… She pointed at me, and I gave my best TV smile. 

Good evening, I’m Wilma Vetter, and I’m coming to you live from the Jacket Hole Bridge. The skies above our hometown are crystal clear, so be sure to join us at midnight for a special broadcast of tonight’s lunar eclipse! The blood moon will be perfectly visible with the naked eye and is sure to give you a thrill. 

I’d thought about going into the magical history of this blessed event, but there was always the chance a human could come across our broadcast, and we didn’t need them snooping around town. Unwanted visitors didn’t fare well with the Assjacket magical community. With my pedigree, I’d been welcomed with open arms, and I intended to deliver the weather forecasts this town deserves, even if I couldn’t deliver on my birthright. 

We’ll be back at midnight with footage of the eclipse. Stay tuned. 

And cut, Jules yelled. 

I exhaled and let everything droop. I spent so much of my life trying to be an upstanding citizen, a clever and productive member of Assjacket society, and a no-nonsense witch. It was a lot of work. Sometimes I wished I could have an adventure, find true love…anything that involved risks and coloring outside of the lines. But I had my family’s reputation to uphold, and the Wetters were known throughout the magical world as hardworking, serious magic users.

Love and excitement weren’t in my cards. And didn’t that suck?  

I looked in the mirror and pulled out my makeup kit, telling myself for the millionth time to stop scratching my neck. Why do we tell ourselves not to do these things? It was hopeless. My neck was going to be all red and splotchy for the broadcast and there was nothing I could do about it.

Though, Jules was a great friend and colleague, especially when she used her camera angles to cover up any imperfections in my appearance.  

I was standing next to Jules’s utility van, using her side mirror, when I heard a noise no one wants to hear when out on a deserted country road at night. Jules had insisted we come outside of Assjacket city limits to this highway because the views of the eclipse would be so much brighter, but I immediately regretted that decision, great abutments or no. 

There was a rustling in the leaves just inside the tree line and the sounds of moaning. Not like the kind of moaning folks do when they’re enjoying themselves. This was masked-maniac-in-the-woods kind of moaning, and it was getting louder.

I went to call for Jules, but I didn’t want to alert who or whatever might be out there. I tiptoed around the front of the van and started for the bridge, but movement in the trees caught my eye. 

Through the underbrush, I saw what looked like three people, dressed in black, staggering around like the zombies in Night of the Living Dead. 

Great. Assjacket was weird enough. We didn’t need zombies, too!

Since I’d moved here, I’d spent all of my time getting the Assjacket News program off the ground. In that time, I’d seen a lot of peculiar activity. Coming from a small village outside of Berlin, I’d met plenty of witches and warlocks in my lifetime, and wolf Shifters were plentiful, but Assjacket had a much more diverse population. It was one of my favorite things about the move, that and buying a house of my own; however, zombies were not going to endear me to the strange little town. 

Jules. My stage-whispering was pretty lame, but it succeeded in getting her attention.

Yeah?

But then she spotted the movement as well and quickly shifted to her hawk form.

I will never get tired of seeing her fly. 

Jules swooped down from the bridge and into the trees. As she flew in closer, the zombie-acting figures shrieked like little girls on a school playground and one of them ran full speed out of the trees.

And smack into me.

Chapter Two

Gus

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You know how you always hear that your life will flash before your eyes whenever there’s an accident? I thought it was bullshit. When I was a kid back in Pacoima, California, and a crop dusting plane crashed into the field near our school, I only saw flames. When my band’s bus hit a jackknifed tanker truck on some rural country road a few weeks ago and ended up catching fire, all I saw was smoke. 

But this time, as I ran to avoid being attacked by a flying beast in the middle of the woods on a cool fall night, I saw my life flash before my eyes. 

And she was beautiful.

Now, you might be shaking your head and saying, Dios. This fool here thinks he’s in love and he barely even saw her. I know. If I weren’t me, and I’d heard me saying what I just said, I’d agree with you. But I know what I saw. I just don’t know how I knew it. You know?

I knew I’d seen my life as sure as I knew my name was Gus Valens. Technically, it was Gustavo Valenzuela, but I gotta represent mi familia. I took on the stage name to reflect my heritage, you know? Ritchie Valens, the great Mexican guitar player and singer, was my ancestor, and my mama raised me to follow in his footsteps. My cousins joined me, and we tres primos had been to hell and back chasing our musical dreams. 

And right now, as my life passed before my eyes, I knew somehow, despite our missteps, we were right where we were supposed to be, as weird as that was. I was on a collision course with a woman and there was nothing that could stop this crazy train.

Ooof!

I managed to catch her weight and spin us in the air so we landed with her on top of me. She was soft in all the right places, so I didn’t mind much. I’m sure she minded getting bowled over by some strange dude in the middle of the woods, and if I were in her shoes, I’d probably mind it. But I didn’t. Not one bit. 

She scrambled off of me and I was…disappointed? She brushed off her skirt and blazer, now covered with leaves, and she stood on shaky legs. Gorgeous legs, more muscular than slender. Powerful. Like her mane of fiery hair that she flung back from her shoulders. I saw her in slow-mo as she shook it out,