Third Strike of Midnight: Magic and Mayhem Universe: Midnight Chronicles, #3

By Jane Hinchey

In the doodoo with the voodoo…

 

Telling recently departed Mary Lou that death becomes her was mistake number one.

 

Mistake number two was leaving Aunt Tilly unsupervised.

 

Now I'm in the poopoo with the voodoo. Aunt Tilly was messing with things she had no business messing with, and after a spell went horribly wrong, she now thinks she's Marie Laveau, New Orleans Voodoo Queen.

 

Reversing the spell should be easy, right? Wrong! Not when a band of marauding vampires joins forces with the fake Marie, intent on raising a voodoo army. I'm in a race against time to save Aunt Tilly and send Marie back to the afterlife where she belongs before a) New Orleans is lost to a supernatural Armageddon and b) Baba Yaga gets wind of my latest transgression and sends my butt back to the pokey.

 

Meet magical Bounty Hunter, Midnight, in book three 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: Oct 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201789749

Book preview

Chapter One

I had two things on my mind. Cheese and how I was going to explain the crater that used to be Mary Lou’s front garden.

Now, Mary Lou, let’s not overreact, I cajoled the woman in front of me, for she looked ready to explode. The problem was, Mary Lou was immortality-challenged. She’d kicked the bucket. She was taking a dirt nap. Okay, okay, she was dead. D.E.A.D. It was hardly my fault she took offense when I told her death becomes her.

Only take offense she did, for suddenly she was flying around my head like a damned banshee, and I was waving her away—as you do when presented with a demented spirit—and well, you can guess where this is going. Or, if you can’t, let me explain. I was hit with a hot flash, and while my arms were flailing, kaboom. One crater coming right up.

Just be glad it’s not your house! I told Mary Lou. Not that you need it anymore, I added under my breath. 

Mary Lou, her face red with rage, snatched the necklace from my neck, and it dissolved into a black mist. I’d never seen a ghost do that before. 

Give me that back, you crazy hag! I shrieked and caught her wrist as she rose into the air. I shouldn’t have been able to do that, either. Something weird was definitely going down.

Mary Lou shook free of my hold. She was wavering, her face flickering in and out of view. Oh, I’m crazy? she barked. That’s rich coming from you! Then something strange happened. Mary Lou stopped screaming, took stock of the damage, and started to laugh.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Mary Lou laughed. I smirked. Then she turned to face me, lost her footing, and landed headfirst into the remains of her front garden, which, for those of you who haven’t been to Mary Lou’s house, is a patch of dirt without a single blade of grass. She’d intended to landscape, so she said, when she’d died of a heart attack. So they say. Mary Lou had a busy week, what with one thing and another.

Well, I am dead, Mary Lou was saying now in a plaintive whine. And what am I supposed to do about that? She didn’t give me time to answer, not that I had an answer, but if she gave me a minute, I’d come up with something. Maybe.

Mary Lou’s behavior was erratic, to put it mildly. Now she waltzed about like a can-can girl—only with fewer clothes. Her gauzy skirt fluttered about, and her once white hair glowed like St. Elmo’s fire. The night was filled with an orange glow of floating energy. A cloud of black electricity pulsed across the ground. I’d forgotten how much fun this was, Mary Lou said, her high heels clicking and clacking. Her skirt swirled around her, and with her hair flipping about, I had to admit she was kind of badass. For a ghost.

Mary Lou stepped back, danced onto the edge of the crater, then pranced onto the dead lawn where she broke into a shimmy before doing a full-on can-can. Heavy on the can. I watched with my mouth open, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

And then she froze mid-shimmy. Quiet descended. Not a single peep in the night. Nothing. It was downright unnerving. Then, before my very eyes, Mary Lou’s gauzy skirt and blouse drifted to the ground, landing in a heap. Mary Lou, naked as the day she was born, stood, arms akimbo, staring at her house.

You know, I said, clothing might be nice.

She glanced at the fabric on the ground. Then looked at me. You think so?

I nodded. It would be my preference. Not that I have anything against nudity, but did I mention Mary Lou is eighty-three years old? No one needs to see those tatas swinging in the breeze.

Mary Lou dissolved just like the necklace into a cloud of black mist. Stupid girl, her disembodied voice drifted to me on the night air. She’s coming, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her. And then Mary Lou vanished. Poof. Gone.

Who’s coming? Baba Yaga and her entourage? Just the thought had my blood chilling in my veins. If Baba Yaga found out my magic was out of control—again—then it would be back to the pokey for me. As it was, she’d gifted me a bracelet that was meant to keep my surges under control. Only Dot, the Slayer Elf at the Bewildered Retirement Home in Hexville, Kentucky, had torn it from my wrist. With my surge protector gone, I was at the mercy of my menopausal hot flashes once more, hence the crater in front of me. Baba Yaga is bound to hear about this. I kicked at the dirt, sending a few rocks and pebbles rolling into the giant hole.

I had two choices. Fill in the crater and hope Baba Yaga didn’t notice. Or go home and eat cheese and pray for a miracle. The cheese almost won out. Almost. Pulling out my phone, I dialed. Aunt Tilly? I need your help.

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"You brought him with you?"

Him was Silver Fox, Jax Lincoln. Once a detective with the New Orleans Police Department Paranormal Division, now a Magical Bounty Hunter like me.

You could have called me yourself, Midnight, he said with a grin, legs planted, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the crater in Mary Lou’s front garden.

I rolled my eyes. If I’d wanted you to know about it, then yes, I would have.

How was I to know you didn’t want your boyfriend to know? Aunt Tilly threw her hands in the air.

Boyfriend? I barked out a laugh. I’m too old for a boyfriend.

What would you call it then? Friends with benefits? Aunt Tilly shot back, and I felt a wave of heat creep up my neck to engulf my face. I focused on my breathing, clenching my hands into fists lest I accidentally blast Aunt Tilly and Jax and turn them into crispy critters.

Ladies, ladies. Jax strode forward and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. We don’t need to put a label on it, do we? Jax knew as well as I that we did, indeed, have a label. Fated mates. Claudia Delacroix told me so after she’d read my palm. That she’d subsequently been arrested for murder didn’t make it any less true. Yet despite knowing that, our relationship had been far from smooth, and I was still coming to terms with the fact that I was even in a relationship.

I fanned my face with my hand and closed my eyes as the heat intensified.

Look out, Aunt Tilly warned. She’s gonna blow!

I glared at her. Not helping, I said between clenched teeth.

Jax reached into his back pocket and pulled out a fan. With a flick of his wrist, it extended. He waved it in my face, creating a beautiful, cooling breeze. My hot flash receded without incident. Thank you.

You’re welcome. Snapping the fan closed, he slid it back into his pocket, then surveyed the crater. That’s some hole.

I sniggered. Right? More a crevasse. But as impressive as it is, I need it gone before Baba Yaga finds out.

Jax cocked his head. I’m gonna need a shovel.

We’re going to need more manpower. I hated to point out the obvious, but even with Jax and me filling in the hole, it would probably take us a month. I needed it gone before morning.

I know a spell, Aunt Tilly piped up. At least I think I do.

I hesitated. I don’t know, Aunt Tilly.