“Yoo-hoo!”
Billy’s whole body cringed when he heard the customary greeting of Madge, the town witch. She was as old as the hills and looked even older. All that was left of her family was an equally elderly sister who didn’t seem to have the time to make many visits home from her city apartment, leaving Billy as Madge’s only form of entertainment.
He turned slowly to see her scuttling up the drive, a black shawl hanging from her bony arms and a long skirt tugged up over her massive belly. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, pressing a hand to her backside, and then called to him again.
“Billy Finley, I really must engage your services,” she croaked.
He resisted the urge to roll his green eyes and instead bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes, ma’am. What is it this time? Need help unloading the groceries? Can’t reach the mixing bowl?”
She swatted a hand through the air. “No, I have another very particular request. If you could invite me into your home, I will explain.”
He bit back a sigh and set down his clipboard. When he’d moved back home to Molodoy last month, he hadn’t intended on becoming the witch’s neighborly gopher boy, but old man Rick had just put his garage up for sale and Billy couldn’t turn down that deal. It had been the fresh start he needed. Just good old-fashioned hard work and no alpha duties. With a side of witchy interference.
“Come on in, Madge.” He lumbered toward the side door and held it open for her.
She stood at half his height with loose, wispy gray hair and more wrinkles on her face than the dress shirts stuffed in the dark reaches of his closet. Making a beeline for his two-person dining table, she used her elbow to sweep off the piles of old crinkled newspapers and waggled her fingers over the wooden surface. A worn book with black plastic ring binding appeared out of thin air.
“Now, then.” She licked the tip of one crooked finger and began to flip through the pages. “I have just been informed that Mary Wirtz has returned home to Molodoy. She just purchased that yellow shuttered home across from the gas station.”
He raised one eyebrow at her and migrated toward the fridge. “Yes...does she need some work done? I noticed last week when I drove by that the vinyl siding is cracked on the north side.”
“No, no, no.” She waved her hand and squinted at him. Her gray eyes looked him over from top to bottom, as if scrutinizing his greasy cut off t-shirt, jeans, and work boots. “You’re what, about thirty-five years of age? And a little over six foot tall?”
Six foot three to be exact, but he didn’t correct her. “That’s right...” He popped open the fridge and pulled out two bottles. “Drink?”
She waved a dismissive hand. So
he put one back, screwed off the top of the other, and pressed the bottle’s mouth to his lips.
“Well, your previous engagement is a bit of a bump in the road,” Madge continued, looking down at the scrawlings in her book, “but I’m sure Mary will still have you. All she requires is a werewolf of less than forty years with a proven track record of employment. The fact that you own your own business should be a bonus.”
Billy spat out his drink and stared wide-eyed at the little witch. He’d heard rumors that Madge fancied herself the village matchmaker, but surely, she wasn’t trying to set him up. The last thing he needed was the drama of a relationship. He preferred his solitude. No girlfriend, no pack, no problem.
“Wait just a minute...” he began once he could find his tongue again.
“But of course, your cleaning skills leave much to desire.” Madge spoke right over him and swept the room with her critical gaze, paying particular attention to the collection of empty shopping bags on one side of the couch and the overflowing trash can next to the sink. “You’d have to join the local werewolf pack. There’s also the matter of personal grooming. We can’t deny that you lack in that necessary area.”
He stuttered and found himself looking down at his own body to make sure they were both seeing the same thing. Yeah, he hadn’t shaved in at least six months and an unkempt beard and a shaggy hairstyle had been the product of that neglect. And sure, car grease had permanently soaked into his skin, making him look much darker than he normally did. But he owned a vehicle repair business. No one expected him to walk around smelling like frankincense.
“You know what, Madge? I think my football game is about to start,” he said in a pitch entirely too high. “And, I’m sure you have lots of other bachelors to interview for Mary. Why don’t you make your rounds and then get back to me?”
The old woman grimaced and clutched the book to her chest. “No, there are only two other candidates...”
“Then, start there.” He herded her toward the door with his arms stretched wide. “I’m sure Mary wouldn’t want to think that you’ve phoned in your duty by giving her my information.”
“Well, you would require more work than my average suitor,” Madge said with a slight nod of her head.
“Exactly!” He opened the door for her and held himself back from shoving her out the door. “And how would that do for your matchmaking business? Word travels, you know. Might want to start with the others first.”
She stepped over the door frame and glanced at him over her shoulder. “You know, maybe that would be a better choice. Make sure she’s getting the best available.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Billy smiled to himself and waved at her through the screen door. “Have a good night, Madge.”
She toddled off and he turned to lean his back against the door, taking another sip of his cold drink. A grin lit up his face and he shook his head. What a day. It was no wonder old Rick had taken an early retirement. Living next to a witch was no easy business.
Luckily for him, the rest of Molodoy consisted of mostly werewolves in the Fang pack. His parents had belonged to that pack. He had, too, once upon a time. But his folks had long since passed and now all that remained of his tiny family was his baby sister who lived in their parents’ old home on Cherry Street.
Billy was eyeing the loving embrace of his worn leather recliner when the door behind him burst open, nearly upending him on the concrete steps of his porch. Thanks to his wolf-like grace, he managed to stay on two feet and didn’t even spill a drop of his drink.