That Hound Don't Hunt: Magic and Mayhem Universe (Maidens of Mayhem) by Julia Mills

Author:Julia Mills [Mills, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: shapeshifters, amateur sleuth, Mystery, Paranormal romance, witches, shifters, mayhem, magic, shapeshifter, witch, magical realism, romantic comedy
Publisher: Julia Mills
Published: 2019-06-23T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“GAMES?!” I SPAT. “IS that what you call this bullshit, you rat-faced, feathered mother fu...”

Snap! Snap! Snap!

And just like that, Stuart the stupid-ass Buzzard filled the room with a wave of noxious sorcery so horrific that it reminded me of a loud, squishy fart from the backside of a humped-back Gator. (Do not ask how I know. You don’t want to know.) Cackling like a couple of our more ‘special’ patients at Bailmore Hall, his nose got longer as the hair on his head transformed into nasty, wrinkly, dirty-red skin.

Walking towards me, his head bobbing out in the most awkward and well, I’ll just say it, grotesque fashion, the bastard had the utter nerve to run the tip of his gnarled, yellowed, hooked claw down the side of my face as he taunted, "You're so much prettier when you're silent." (And here is where I conjured vividly detailed plans of how I was going to hog-tie the stupid son of a Buzzard. I would use the thickest, itchiest jute I could find, stuff one of my dad's dirty socks in his beak, (Yes, I believe there are still some in the basement that he never washed.) and very, very, v-e-r-y slowly pluck every last feather from his scrawny ass until he was bald, naked, and pimpley as the day was long. Then, and only then, did I plan to stuff his mangy carcass in a fifty-gallon drum of peanut oil and fry his ass over an open fire.)

Even better than those wonderfully vindictive thoughts were the deep, rumbly growls emanating from Jean Baptiste's chest. Or maybe it was the instant and immediate way Stuart jumped at least three feet into the air. Either way, it was almost worth impersonating a department store mannequin. Of course, the idiot Buzzard started talking again, and I wished for hot pokers to stick in both my ears.

“Now, now, Detective Flea Bag,” Stuart mocked. “You’ll want to save all that pent-up aggression for what comes next.”

Strutting around us like he was the cock of the walk, weaving in and out, around and around, he made a show out of demonstrating the power he wielded over each and every one of us. As you can imagine, the images of the way the moron died by my hand got bloodier, more gruesome, and incredibly more detailed with every syllable that spewed from his ugly, black beak.

"Since I have your undivided attention," the asshole laughed out loud, which sounded like a cat hacking up a furball, at his own joke. Reason nine-hundred-and-ninety-seven for hating his ever-lovin' guts. "I have a teeny-tiny little question. What do you get when you cross a momma Buzzard with the most devious, powerful Wizard in Louisiana?"

Spinning to the right and then to the left, he worked his way back to the front of the room. Stopping beside Livvie, he threw his hands over his head and his left foot out to the side with all the panache of Gilbert and Sullivan before

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