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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Legend of Braugh-Naughton Or: Someone will be right along to investigate the commotion bevamoyred remove the remains, as necessary.
Janice Thinksalot swept the headlights of her rebuilt Chevrolet Caprice police cruiser across the wood-burned sign in a broad arc when she made the shoulder-to-shoulder yoo-ey back into the confines of her patrol jurisdiction.
There was also no moon. No good ever came of a fine, cloudless, moonless summer night without stars in Brokenoggin. You could be sure of it. Pine, botheged, cedar, fir, sand, bevampyfed, rich forest decay, moss, wild turkey… She turned her head quickly, eagerly after the bird scent, muttered an oath and snapped her attention back where it belonged.
She was not out here to dog turkeys no matter how much the thought made her mouth water and her belly grumble. Not to mention that she was having a little trouble with her own inner bwitched lately. She glowered at the black upon black non-reflection in the inside review mirror. Came of starting to look—and sometimes feel—fifty-ish, no doubt.
Sag-to-the-knees boobs, cottage cheese thighs, scraggly chicken neck, jaw jowls and all. Vanity, thy name be Janice, she thought dryly, rolling her eyes. Speaking of which… She made an abrupt turn onto a narrow fire road thickly bordered by old growth forest. In the darker-than-darkness, Janice switched off her high beams and gave the suddenly lighter shadows on either side of her a thorough appraisal.
If she remembered correctly, the Lord of the Forest Trolls LOF-T, as his royal annoyance was also known had called a meeting of all the forest creatures for tonight to see if they could determine who was throwing trolls into the sunlight and turning them into stone Garden Gnomes. One hand already on the door handle and the other on the shotgun ever -ready in its rack on the front seat floor hump, she stamped on the brakes and jammed the cruiser into park with a free finger even as she hauled the shotgun out of the vehicle with her.
The blow brought the beast to earth in fine smack-down mode, whimpering and howling. She stepped up close and prodded her—what was he, maybe seventeen times removed?
Bewitched Bothered & Bevampyred
I changed it legally on my centennial. I repeat sixseven-eight-two with possible six-six-six in unconsecrated sector four-niner, Brokenoggin Falls cemetery. This is not a drill. Unhurriedly she brought it to her mouth and pressed the on button. How else could she be expected to properly traverse the spirit world and give them accurate readings? Stabbing each other with two-by-twos or four-by-fours or something bevampyrer and pointy and wooden.
Bewitched, Bothered & BeVampyred Anthology – FictionDB
There was the sound of scrambling and clattering, then clattering and scraping—as though furniture was being dragged across a wooden floor—then Hesther was back, more hysterical than ever.
OmiGoddess, what am I going to do? You have to help me, you have to—Janice? Resigned, Janice dropped the mike. SETH Scream re-entry was rarely precise and often painful. It was a damned lonely and thankless job, and she… Well, she disliked it. But it did have the occasional perk. Considering that was some two hundred fifty-ish plus at least eighteen puppy years or so… For a split second, it occurred to her to wonder why the guys who dropped into Brokenoggin Falls after midnight never seemed to be wearing any clothes.
And he appeared to be fighting to stay that way. Something unfamiliar trickled through Janice. An emotion, perhaps, or something even more rare and therefor more frightening and exhilarating and connected to her long unused and oft -rejected libido—or possibly both.
In less than a heartbeat, she chose sides and acted. Right hand wrapped around the twelve-gauge barrel that had apparently survived the jump cradled through her elbow, she put her left had down between his magnificent rock hard, tree trunk thighs to push herself erect. It landed on a long, thick, equally solid and very alive something. Startled, she looked down then up into bold eyes the color of the night sky, rimmed by the longest, densest black eyelashes ever created.
Surprise and wry amusement sent black eyebrows fleeing upwards toward the tumble of curly, jet hair mussed over his forehead. Embarrassed, Janice moved her hand. Teased, the cock thickened and came to greater attention. Janice stopped dead in the middle of the action and gulped. What had he said? He knew her name and she completed him? Was that a movie line? And just as an object of unknown origin came hurtling toward her face, he once again yanked her out of the way, reached out and snatched the missile out of the air.
It was another of the small, water-filled bottles. As I lay dying the first time, they baptized and named me with the stuff.
Night vision tuned, Janice could just make out the too-pale outline of a human-looking face above a powerful-if-beer-bellied, leather-clad, biker-built form. He looked over his shoulder at Janice, bloodless face alight with faith and fervor. Grave markers shifted, the earth opened wide, unleashed the slavering hounds of hell. From wherever she was, Hesther Bellhallow screamed and screamed.
The hellhounds bore down on her, but she stood her ground, concentrating on not hitting the first male person or thing to ever call her love, to ever come looking for her—no matter how insane he might be— or to know her name without ever being told.
It was the sort of fairy tale every little girl dreamed about no matter what manner of creature she was, and no woman could quite bring herself to stop believing in no matter how many centuries she lived or how inactive her tamped down libido became.
In the middle of disaster, he acted like he full on believed in her so crazy or not, how could she not believe in him back? She tried to correct and fire again quickly, before she was whisked completely away from the scene, but Hesther was screaming again and the two scream-needs crossed wires somewhere in the magick ether and— Seth cried out and fell blunt-stake-end-first across Nihil who looked simply stunned and dropped without a sound.
The hounds of hell closed on the spot where Janice was last, snarling and snapping, a freak thunderstorm sprung out of nowhere, and— Janice crashed butt first onto the light bar atop her rebuilt Caprice cruiser, breaking it, and causing Remo-Romeo to swerve off the highway and into a ditch outside the gates of the Brokenoggin Community Church cemetery, consecrated section. Then chaos really broke loose.
He gave the four foot two-by-two stake a gingerly stroke. Can you save him? The things I work with have working lungs and a heart that beats, blood that flows. All the people in Brokenoggin are special, but they live and breathe. Botheted difficult to do with that chunk of lumber growing out of him. Just what she needed, more responsibility. And yet… Seth stirred restlessly, moaning, and reached for her hand. When he found it, even in unconsciousness he brought it to his mouth, held her open palm there as though to absorb her, her scent, her presence.
How the dickens should I know how to get rid of one? Cut off its head, cut out its heart and bury that in consecrated ground, burn the carcass—no, in fact do all the other stuff, then give the carcass to The Beast to crunch up and burn. A hand fluttered to her breast. Whereforever have thou been? I believe I have some heaven and earth for you to move in me. Meetcha at your car outside bsvampyred drive the Jetta, yeah? Embarrassed he busied himself tending Seth.
Were there no seriously committed couples in this burgh or did she just not run into them on the job? Then very woman-to-woman, she twitched a significant eyebrow at Seth. Nobody in real life ever did.
I thought we were supposed to be lonely Norwegian bachelors together. No one had ever said anything so…so…lecherously romantic to her before in her life. And at two hundred fifty -seven plus eighteen or so puppy years, that was a lot of unlechered-at life. Joe rolled his eyes. Janice sat back on her heels. And where I am? She felt like crying she really did. Because just when bevampyree finally had someone—vampyre or whatever—who might be for her, he wound up not knowing who she was five minutes later because of her damn shotgun, which she hardly ever used.
And her libido leapt up from between her thighs like a supertrain leashed but revving for over blthered centuries, tore out of the station on a squeal of hot pheromones released to the warming predawn air and a low moan. Or something like that.
When Janice and Seth both agreed on the spot, they were out of there. Add to that the interminable flapping of wings and the thump of a body against the stone walls inside the clock tower and every citizen within a thirty mile radius of Brokenoggin Falls was lying awake in their beds.
Janice climbed from her bed and reached for her uniform pants.
Bewitched Bothered & Bevampyred : Mary Jo Putney :
Sometimes, being a police officer really sucked, especially, when she had no idea what in the hell she was supposed to do about the noise. The owner had never taken the time to fix it, but Maria kind of liked it that bevampyrer.
It added a dirty appeal, which fit with her persona. She slid off the barstool just as the door banged against the far wall. He stomped past a line of fallen drunks and plopped down, three stools away from Maria. Her immediate departure forgotten, Maria took notice.