Two Minutes Past Midnight: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Midnight Chronicles, #2

By Jane Hinchey

Broom rage, failed rituals, and planted bodies…

 

How in the Goddess's name did I get stuck at the Bewildered Retirement Home in Hexville, Kentucky? One word. Baba Yaga. Actually, that's two, and it's a name, not a word, but whatever.

 

I thought my stint as a magic Bounty Hunter was over, but it appears Baba Yaga has other ideas. I can do as she suggests and investigate the shenanigans going down in the Bewitched Retirement Home where paranormals prep for the supernatural afterlife, or I can find myself enjoying some quality me-time back in the pokey.

 

Easy choice.

 

Turns out someone has been planting bodies in Flora, the plant Goddess's garden, and she's not happy about it. And who can blame her, although I have to say her hydrangeas are looking incredible!

 

But Witches aren't the only residents of Bewildered. Now I'm up to my neck in fury harpies, chaos fairies, slayer elves, and Bog Dragons. And while they may sound terrifying, watching them putter around on mobility scooters and walking frames, I'm hard-pressed to think any one of them is capable of murder. Until they all confess!

 

Welcome to Twinkerhell, where wands have a life of their own, cauldrons create indiscriminate potions, and storytime takes on a whole new meaning. 

 

Meet magical Bounty Hunter, Midnight, in book two of the Midnight Chronicles and part of the Magic & Mayhem Universe. Full of mystery, romance, and laughs, this book is suitable for lovers of cozy mystery and paranormal women's fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baywolf Press
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201015565

Book preview

1

Mornings. You either loved ‘em or hated ‘em. For some, they herald a new day, bright and sparkly and refreshingly new. For others, it’s that time of day when the events of the night before replay in your mind with a kaleidoscope of color and sound, complete with horrifying imagery and soundtrack to match, full of regret and poor choices. I fall into the latter category.

Coffee in hand, I stepped out onto my front porch, squinting as the early morning sun hit me in the face, frying my retinas. Sliding my sunglasses into place, I surveyed my front garden. Summer had arrived, and I absently noted a few shrubs needed deadheading and the mulch needed re-doing. Still, all-in-all, things were in pretty good condition. Unlike myself.

So much for good intentions, I said out loud, sipping my brew and trying to ignore the events of the previous evening, which were, unfortunately, seared into my brain.

The rub of a furry body around my ankles announced Banks’s arrival. I reached down and scratched the blue-black fur of my cat familiar, somewhat comforted by his presence. Until he spoke. Last night was full of bad decisions, huh? he said.

I don’t know. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Today is a new day, full of endless possibilities. Pretty sure I could rack up a few more bad decisions before the day was over. I seemed to excel at them.

That’s the spirit, he encouraged me. Don’t let them get you down.

It wasn’t my fault, I pouted, sitting on the front step and nursing the hangover that was pounding behind my eyes.

It never is. Banks sat next to me, eyes narrowed against the morning sun. A fly buzzed past, and he lazily swatted at it.

It was those darn Hooch sisters. They’re mean.

Offered to wax your vajayjay? Banks guessed. It was no secret the buzzard shifters had been responsible for Sassy’s waxing experience. The nerve of them suggesting if I took them up on their generous offer to not only wax but bedazzle my vajayjay, then maybe I wouldn’t have such bad luck with men. My protests that I didn’t want a man fell on deaf ears.

You see, Aunt Tilly had been kind enough to spread the word that poor spinster Midnight had finally landed herself a man. Or a roll in the sheets at least, but who knew where that could lead? Aunt Tilly can’t help herself. She’s a hopeless romantic, and having her forty-nine-year-old niece single was a situation she’d dearly love remedied. So, when I’d met a sinfully delicious homicide detective of the New Orleans PD, Jaxon Lincoln, sparks had flown, and Aunt Tilly had been beside herself with hope.

After closing the case that had sent me to Rhalanise Bayou, Jax and I had arranged to meet at my hotel for a little… adult time. Only the Silver Fox hadn’t shown. I burned with humiliation at the hopeful messages I’d left inquiring about his whereabouts. I’d even shaved my legs, dammit, and I didn’t go to that effort for just anyone.

I took another sip of coffee. Wouldn’t have killed him to send a text saying he’d been held up. Or changed his mind, I grumbled.

You’re obsessing. Banks sniffed with a bored tone, stretching onto his side, reminding me we’d had this same conversation countless times already.

Probably.

Definitely. Guess you really liked him, huh?

Pft. Hardly. I could deny it all I liked, but the truth was Banks wasn’t wrong. I did like Jax. A little too much. And now I was back home in Assjacket, West Virginia, my brief stint as a magical Bounty Hunter behind me. Despite my vehement protests that I was relieved it was over, and I could get back to running my florist shop with Aunt Tilly, a small part of me missed the Bounty Hunter business. Though you could poke me in the eye with a red-hot poker before I’d admit it.

What happened with the Hooch sisters? Banks asked, rolling onto his back, exposing his belly to the early morning rays.

Nothing.

Liar.

It wasn’t the Hooch sisters. Well, no, it was, but it wasn’t.

Clear as mud, Midnight.

I huffed out a breath. The Hooch sisters turned up, saw me at the bar, and immediately zeroed in, saying they’d heard I’d been stood up and offering their services as vajayjay beautification experts. I declined.

That doesn’t sound so terrible.

It’s what happened afterward that got me into trouble.

Banks half sat up, and I admired that he had the strength in his abs to pull off such a move. I really should get back into doing sit-ups, tighten up my abs that were as firm as a waterbed. Do tell, he drawled.

Alice Arrowbee.

Banks flopped back onto the deck. Shoulda known. When are you going to learn not to let her get under your skin?

I lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. Probably never. Alice rubbed me the wrong way, always had, always would. It had started at school, only upon graduation, I’d hightailed it out of Assjacket to join the SIA, whereas Alice had stayed, married, had three kids, one of which had already provided her with a grandchild. And here I was. Single and childless and fast approaching fifty. Not that it bothered me. But Alice took great pains to rub my nose in it, and usually, I was pretty good at ignoring her. Until last night.

She’d dropped by Assjacket’s one and only bar, located at the back of the hardware store, to pick up her husband, Jonny, had spotted me and decided in her infinite wisdom that it would be an excellent opportunity to pass on some home truths. You know, useful things like if I lost a little weight, maybe men wouldn’t ghost me. Did I know purple hair made me look like mutton dressed up as lamb? And the clincher, if I wanted to attract a man like Jax, I’d better lose the mustache.

After the Hooch sisters’ comments on my lack of a bedazzled vajayjay, followed by Alice’s comments about my weight, hair color, and apparent mustache… I’d exploded. And I couldn’t even blame it on a hot flash. It had been temper, plain and simple.

I’d smote Alice’s ass. Literally. I turned her into a donkey, I told Banks.

He paused in grooming himself. For real?

I nodded. For real.

Did you turn her back?

I shook my head. Couldn’t. Thanks to Baba Yaga’s bracelet dampening my magic, I didn’t have enough juice left. Anyway, those teeth suit her.

Banks chuckled. Zelda will take care of it, I’m sure.

Zelda was the Shifter Whisperer, a Witch with the ability to heal shifters, and considering Alice was a Raccoon Shifter, I knew she’d be taken care of. Otherwise, I’d probably feel worse than I already did. Remorse did not sit well with me.

All in all, that doesn’t sound so bad. Banks resumed grooming, then froze. Unless…

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, leg frozen in the air as he prepared to lick his butt.

Yeah. I nodded, knowing where his train of thought was headed.

Baba Yaga, we said in unison.

2

W hat did she say? Banks asked, his voice climbing several octaves. Baba Yaga was the reason I was thrown in the pokey in the first place. And also the reason I was let out. Provided I did her bidding. And