Jenny Von Zuzle sneezed again. She blew out a breath and dabbed a tissue at the corners of her teary eyes. Her childhood home didn’t look much different from the others on the block. Like most homes in Assjacket, West Virginia, it was a bit run-down on the outside, just enough to look perfectly vacant. However, her father had turned the inside into one gigantic maze, one that accumulated dust faster than anything she’d ever seen.
Every room, every nook and cranny, every cupboard was filled with books of every subject and every genre. He’d personally created Assjacket’s own library and was proud to offer anything their friends might want to read. As long as they could find it. When she was younger, she’d attempted to organize the chaos. It never lasted more than a few days before the floor was littered with stacks of books completely unalphabetized. Johnathan Von Zuzle IV insisted that he knew every book in his possession and its whereabouts. Jenny knew he simply snapped his fingers, and the title appeared in his hand.
She stared at the white sand beach, the blue water, and a line of hotels on the pages of the travel guide. Jenny sat on one of the few bare spots of floor available, the book spread open across her lap. As time had passed, the sun moved, shining through the stained-glass window of what should be a dining room. The colors danced over the stacks of books piled on what most would call a table—it did have visible legs—although she’d never eaten a meal in this room in her entire life. Instead, she was more like her father, following Alice down the rabbit hole, falling in love a thousand times over, fighting pirates, and traveling—the only way she knew how.
If she weren’t so incredibly terrified to transport, maybe she’d be able to walk barefoot across the beach in the picture she was holding. Inhaling, Jenny dreamed of the beautiful island, then sighed. She’d never know what it was like. She’d never see a palm tree in person, hear the ocean waves for herself. Panic started to set in just thinking about leaving the only town she’d ever known.
Another bout of sneezing set in, and she grabbed the book, knowing she had to get back to her own home.
“Dad?”
She stood quietly, listening for footsteps, gauging where he might be among the giant web of walls, shelves, and heaps of reading materials.
“Dad, I’m going home,” she said more loudly.
Grinning to herself, Jenny made her way toward the front door. His mind was lost in a book, something else she was used to. Growing up, she hadn’t been ignored. Instead, she’d been gifted with the best storyteller imaginable, one who taught her to appreciate books and read everything she could get her hands on. Theirs was a simple relationship. He was a quiet, loving man, who only needed to be reminded of mealtimes. Thanks to the hundreds of cookbooks he also owned, she’d taught herself at a young age how to bake, experiment with flavors, and keep them both fed.
“I’ll see you at the diner later?”
Jenny didn’t wait for any confirmation he was alive before pulling the front door shut behind her.
Joshua Englewoodie was simply bored out of his skull. Coming from his bedroom suite, he threw himself over the back of the couch in the informal living area, flopped onto the soft cushions, and stared at the ceiling of the wing he claimed as his own in his parents’ mansion.
He had worked from home, correction, his parents’ home, from the day he graduated college. Years prior to going to college, Joshua knew he wanted to join his father Lincoln Englewoodie’s firm. Being a high-stakes Realtor for the rich and famous had so many perks, how could he not want the dream job?
A few decades in, however, things had become stale. The celebrities changed as their mortal world kept three hundred and sixty-five days a year in true perspective. Yet, the lifestyle never went out of vogue. Excursion travel and hunting down and finding the hidden gems their clients dreamed of had been his niche, and Joshua was proud his father boasted that as a selling point of their services. Still, over the years, life had become monotonous.
His only real fun came when he was jetting off to gorgeous islands, quaint little European towns, and to each of the fifty states the US had to offer for his own enjoyment. His father’s motto was “work hard, play harder,” something Joshua took very seriously.
“What’s wrong, honey?” His mother’s voice startled him.
“When did you get home? I thought you and Dad were in Italy for the month?” he asked.
“Oh, we arrived just a few minutes ago. You know, transporting can take so long, I swear, five minutes from there to Vermont is just ridiculously long. I simply do not know how mere mortals can even tolerate hours of that tedious crap fest they call travel. I’d never leave my house if I had to exist like a caveman.”
“Mother, your life is but one long series of tribulations, isn’t it?” Joshua chuckled.
Nola Englewoodie studied her reflection in one of the many mirrors in their home and fluffed her already perfect silver hair. “You do understand me, don’t you, son? So, what seems to be your trouble? You look, I don’t know…” She waved her hand, clearly searching for the word. “Off. Or are you simply in need of some entertainment?”
This was exactly why he’d never moved out. His parents understood him perfectly, plus they were never home much, what with all their own exotic adventures.
“I am.”
“So what would your father tell you to do?”
“If you’re not happy, do something to change it. But I’ve been everywhere I want to go, some places a gazillion times. I—”
His mother cut him off. “You need a partner.”
Joshua sat up, stared at his mother, completely dumbfounded by the gargantuan statement she’d just tossed out into the air as if it were simply normal. Him? Settle down? A partner? A witch? Joshua felt chills race down his spine at the thought. Images of a crying witch—or worse, a pissed-off witch—and being told he couldn’t walk out the door, of phone calls asking him where he was, of hearing tears as he walked out the door to go camping with his three best friends flooded his mind.
“Oh, Mother, no, no, no, no way in Goddess’s fiery pit of hellaciousness is that shit happening. Not to me. You and Dad are great, but do you know how hard it is these days to find someone you’d like to be around for more than twenty years? The thought of eternity, oh my Goddess, hundreds of years with the same person, day in and day out, fuck a duck—no. Not me. I’ve got things to do, places to be, and I’m be sure as shittin’ bricks on a hot tin roof not letting any witch stand in my way.”
“Well, if it’s not your charming personality that will keep a good woman away, it’ll be your fantastically romantic way with words, darling. You have nothing to worry about. I love you because you’re my son and I have to. But with that attitude, no one else will.”
His mother smirked behind the hand she held in front of her while pretending to study her blood-red nails. “Thanks, Mom. I think?”
“All I am saying is you had your century of being a bachelor. You’re restless now. And there’s one thing that will cure that. Finding someone to lo—”
“Do not finish that word, Mother.”
“Love! Love, love, love, love, love.” Nola laughed as she walked away toward the kitchen.
Joshua flung himself back down on the pristine white couch. His mother was an amazing decorator; however, she had no idea what she was talking about when it came to his love life. Or lack thereof—and the fact he wanted to maintain the status quo to infinity and possibly beyond.
Of his three best friends, Victor had a shifter girlfriend who was a beyond the biggest bitch Joshua had ever come across. According to Vic, the upside was she had a tongue that did things so magical, it was worth putting up with her. Duke was still as single as he was, and in no rush either, though he did live on his own, at least. It was Bill Wilder that his mother referred to as the perfect example most often. Hints which involved a daughter-in-law and grandbabies—plural.
So what if Bill had found the perfect witch? So what if Bill had moved to some Goddess-forsaken place down South, where they probably all talked with a gagging drawl? His college friend had invited him countless times to his new home to visit and to meet the woman who had changed his life. Joshua knew she was originally from their hometown of Hollytown, yet hadn’t enjoyed the wonderful childhood Joshua had been afforded by his parents. Her wicked warlock of a father had kept her under his thumb so tight, even Bill’s closest friends were never afforded the chance to meet her until she and Bill moved miles away.
He sat up on the couch and pulled his cell out of the front pocket of his dress pants. He gazed around the lavish room. Every item gleamed, not a thing out of place. A few family pictures were scattered among the shelves—always magazine-shoot ready. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, he surveyed the property, completely covered in gardens bursting with color and perfectly manicured hedges for as far as the eye could see. Joshua sighed. It was a very tranquil home. Maybe it was why he was always ready to escape and find excitement, variety, and people laughing and talking, a change from the hushed staff who bustled about the house and grounds working for his parents.
Glancing down at his phone, he let his finger hover over the screen for several seconds. He sent the text before he could change his mind, then cringed.
“Shit-a-cricket, what did I just do?” he mumbled to himself, raking his fingers through his hair.