Fangtastic Four: Magic and Mayhem Universe: The Miscreants, #2

By R.L. Merrill

A storm is brewing in Assjacket, West Virginia.

 

After being cursed for a lifetime, weather witch Wilma Wetter's magical powers were unleashed the moment she was Turned into a vampire, and now she must manage them before her haunted mansion is washed away. With her mate—singer and fellow fanger Gus Valens—his cousins, her ghostly housemate, and her new familiar by her side, anything seems possible...until a ghost from her past threatens her fangtastic crew. Wilma will have to draw on her considerable skills and the power of love to succeed. Can she defeat the foe who cursed her family generations ago? Will she and Gus get past their awkward attempts at courtship? And will Woodrow ever catch up on his shows? Join Wilma and the The Miscreants on their continuing adventures in Assjacket. 

 

*Can be read as a standalone, but reading Fang Me Three Times first is recommended.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celie Bay Publications, LLC
• Release date: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201797799

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

One Year Ago…

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I’d gone and done it, and I felt like a new woman. 

I held the giant loop of heavy skeleton keys in my hands and gazed up at the looming stone monstrosity, which now belonged to me. 

I’d bought a haunted mansion. And a TV station. 

I’d moved across the Atlantic Ocean for a fresh start and it was about to begin. 

As I fumbled with the keys, the heavy iron door swung inward, slowly, with lots of creaking. 

Hello? I called out as I stepped over the threshold. A gust of wind blew past me from behind, pushing me into the house, then the door swung shut. 

Inside the mansion it was dark, cool, and a tad musty. Call me weird, but I loved it. I felt at home. In Germany, we’d lived in an old stone castle, as had all of the Wetter witches for centuries. I was the first to leave my homeland, but since I’d been cursed since birth, there was really nothing there for me except the disappointed gazes on my family’s faces. 

But standing on the gritty floor of my new home, a remarkably similar stone castle, I couldn’t wait to get started with my new life. 

Is anyone here? I called out once more, wondering if perhaps one of the staff remained despite the mansion being vacant for the past hundred years. Time moved in strange ways here in Assjacket, West Virginia. I’d done my research and taken a chance that this town was the perfect place for me to reinvent myself. I’d bought the manor sight unseen, determined to make the most of this new life. 

Suddenly, I caught a whiff of…tea? And honey?

I moved to my right, using the pale light that managed to creep into the home around the torn and tattered drapes. I heard the tinkling of a spoon and imagined it was stirring a delicious cup of witches’ brew. I felt a little homesick, even though I knew there was nothing in Germany for me now. Still, I missed my mother’s tea. 

You’re right on time. I poured you a cup.

Sitting at a small bistro set under a skylight was a dashing man wearing a velvet waistcoat and a scarf tied around his neck. Only, he wasn’t a man. Not any longer. 

Come, come. Have a seat.

I sat across from the striking man, noticing his well-groomed mustache and the blond waves he wore in a complicated coiffure. He slid one of the two cups my way, however, his hand didn’t actually make contact with the porcelain. 

My grandmother used to make this blend special from her herb garden. I hope you like it. He held his cup by the delicate handle and his mustache shifted as he smiled. He sipped noisily and then set the cup on the saucer with a sigh. 

I wasn’t aware anyone remained on the premises, I said, although I knew before the words were out that I’d made a mistake. 

The man’s bushy eyebrows tilted down. It’s not as if I had a choice, he said. His cadence of speech was old Hollywood, that diction that wasn’t quite British, wasn’t American, but somehow sounded magical. 

I’m so sorry, I said. Where are my manners? The man had offered me tea, for Goddess’s sake. The least I could do was introduce myself. I’m Wilma Wetter, of the Harz Mountain Wetters.

I held out my hand and waited to see what he would do. 

Bertram Cravenly, he said. Formerly the Lord of Cravenly Manor. You must be the new lady of the house? His ghostly hand passed over mine and I felt the slightest brush of contact. 

I sank back into my seat. I’ve just purchased the mansion from Assjacket Realty. I apologize, Mr. Cravenly, I wasn’t aware there was still a sentient being here.

He lifted a napkin and wiped at his mustache. Nonsense, he said. I may be sentient, but I’m no longer corporeal, as you can see. I’ve been in this state for one hundred years, and that’s the length of time a property can sit vacant of living beings in this town before it must be sold. I’ve sat idly by while the manor has fallen into disrepair. He sounded so forlorn. It is time for someone to breathe new life into this place, especially an esteemed witch such as yourself.

I braved a smile and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest. I was born a witch, true, but I have no magic. I carry a family curse. Someday I’d get used to telling people, but in one hundred twelve years, I hadn’t yet. 

Bertram ran an appraising look over me. Being born of witches myself, I can tell you have powerful magic. Assjacket is a special place. I wouldn’t count on being without your magic for long.

I wished I could be as hopeful as him. 

When the realtor sent me information about the place, I bought it straight away. You have a magnificent home here, I said. Then I had an idea. I’ve never done a massive restoration before, perhaps you would help me? I’d love to recapture the feeling from before you—

Before I was murdered.

Murdered? My eyes went wide with shock. That was most certainly left off of the listing, I muttered. Not that this particular piece of knowledge would have kept me from buying the place, but I might have enlisted the aid of a local witch to help me with a cleansing. It’s important to help spirits pass on, and if this ghost was involuntarily holding onto this plane, I wanted to help him.

It is a long story…for another time. Would you like a tour, Miss Wetter? 

My heart warmed at his proper pronunciation of my last name. Most people said it as it was written and I was tired of correcting them. As I planned to begin a career as a weather forecaster for the local TV station W-ASS, having a soggy name like Wetter—the way Americans say it—was rather unfortunate. 

I would very much like a tour. 

He held out his ghostly elbow and I placed my hand where the crook would have been. He was slightly shorter than me, but he had a powerful presence. 

I suppose there’s no reason we can’t share the vast manor? Perhaps we can divvy up the areas of the home. I won’t bother you—

He smiled for real this time. You’re not a bother, my dear. I think I should like to have a…what would you call it? A housemate?

I’d like that, too. I don’t know anyone here in town. It would be nice to have a friend.

He nodded and guided me toward the stairs. A friend indeed. I haven’t had one of those in a long time.

Chapter One

Present Day

Wilma

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Twister at two o’clock, Jacob called out as Jules swerved on the gravel highway. 

I can’t keep from skidding on this ice, Jules said. How the hell can the road be freezing and yet it’s hot as hell outside? The thermometer says it’s a hundred and three!

Wilma, honey? Jacob asked, his voice a higher octave than normal. Do you think you could maybe—

"Watch out!" Freddy shouted. "There’s an avalanche starting up on the left…turn turn turn!"

Jules yanked the steering wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding the huge snowdrift in front of us. The van fishtailed as she turned into my driveway, golf-ball-sized hail pounding the roof of the van. 

Take a deep breath, Gus said in my ear. Everything is going to be all right. He wrapped me in his arms and started humming. 

I focused on his voice and breathed in nice and slow through my nose. And the brightest moon I’d ever seen came out from behind the clouds.

I’d only been a vampire for an hour or so, and the bite that brought me to this state somehow managed to break my lifelong curse. I would have been thrilled if I hadn’t turned into a walking Weather Channel disaster. 

Jules pulled up to Cravenly Manor and parked the van with a jerk. 

We’re here. She pressed a hand to her forehead. Thank the Goddess. 

Jacob clapped his hands together. Hot damn, that was fun.

My eyes burned as if I might cry, and the sky