I scanned the street, looking for a ghost tour.
Uh, what did a ghost tour look like? I knew they wore costumes in October, but in December the streets of Banshee Creek were full of anonymous winter coat wearers. PRoVE had tours all over the town, but I wasn't sure where they were.
I walked to the botánica and peered into the window. If I remembered correctly, one of the flyers was around here and it had tour information…
There it was. PRoVE ghost tours...limited openings for the off-season...evening tour of the town.
Thank Zeus there was a map. It wasn't very clear, but it seemed the tour would go down Main Street, turn at the creek, head up towards the library, and then to the park to attend...
The fire festival.
Of course.
"Hi, Dora."
The cheerful voice made me jump. Kat had left her store and come up behind me.
"Why are you holding a pig?" she asked with the air of someone trying to be polite about a strange happening.
I looked down at the ceramic animal in my hands. "Oh, a little girl left it at my store. I'm trying to return it."
"Oh, I hate it when that happens. There's a lost and found in the town hall, but the tourists seldom come back to pick up their stuff."
"I think they're still doing a ghost tour, so I can catch up to them. Can I take the map?"
"I'll get it."
She went back into the store and brought out the flyer. "They will finish near the park because of the—"
"Fire festival." I grabbed the flyer with one hand and held the piggy bank with the other. "I know."
"We have a lot of those," she replied. "You'll get used to them. Caine will light a bonfire and pass out s'mores at the drop of a hat."
"It's not the s'mores I'm worried about," I muttered. "But thanks for the map."
"No problem," Kat said, as I walked away. “I hope you find her."
I hoped so too. I walked quickly down Main Street, dodging stray groups of people. The ghost tour started at PRoVE headquarters, a Second Empire building with a mansard roof, a sweeping front porch, and purple siding with nauseating green trim. It wasn't hard to find.
But no one was there, at least not anyone waiting for a ghost tour. I stood in front of the building and examined the map in my hands, trying to figure out the next stop.
"Are you looking for something?"
Thomas Lane was suddenly next to me, an inquiring look on his face.
"Or someone?" he added, his lip curving into a half-smile.
That's when I noticed he was wearing a "Ghost Tour Guide" t-shirt with PRoVE's all-seeing eye symbol.
Looks like I hit the jackpot.
"Did the last tour leave?" I asked him. "Was there a mom with a little girl?
"We had two tours leave," he said. “I don't remember a little girl."
Two tours? I guess the slow season wasn't slow enough. How did they get enough people for two tours?
"They'll go to the Rosemoor first?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered. "That usually takes a while because that ghost has a complicated history and people like to take selfies with the medicine cabinet."
With the—? Never mind, I wasn't going to ask.
I looked around. "And which way is it?"
He looked at me strangely, then pointed down the street. "It's that way, but they will be turning around soon. They go north and then south and end in the park." He glanced at the piggy bank in my hands. "What happened? Did someone purchase something from your store?" He frowned. “It was the doll, wasn’t it?”
Oh, yes. Thomas knew exactly what was going on.
"Yes, someone tried to buy it," I muttered. "I'm trying to undo the transaction."
His face grew hard. "I'll take you."
He started walking toward the street and I ran up to stop him. The last thing I needed was a mortal getting involved in this.
"Oh, I don't need—"
A shout pierced the evening stillness, interrupting me.
"Help me, please."
I turned to see the woman who had entered my shop earlier running towards the PRoVE building, eyes wild.
"My daughter," she sobbed. "Have you seen her?"
Chapter Five
"She was right next to me," the mom said, gasping for breath. "Then she was gone. Her name's Ginny. Ginny Armstrong. I'm Sheila."
Thomas grabbed his walkie-talkie, suddenly all business. "I'll alert the sheriff. What does she look like?"
“She’s five," Sheila said. “Short with brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a Scooby-Doo t-shirt."
Thomas spoke into the radio, alerting both the police and the fire department.
"She came to my store," I said, "and took the doll." I showed her the piggy bank. "She left this behind."
She grabbed the piggy bank, looking relieved. "That's good."
Not the response I expected.
"That means no one took her," she explained. “They would take the money too.”
"Would she try to rejoin the tour?" Thomas asked. "Or return to where you started?"
"If we were separated, she was supposed to come back here," Sheila said, pointing to the building. "To the starting point. She was going to wait for me on the porch."
"The sheriff has sent out patrols," Thomas said. "And the fire department is already in the park. They're looking for her."
"I think that's our group coming back," she said. "If she's with them—"
A loud screech interrupted her. I looked up, but was suddenly pushed out of the way.
"Get out," Thomas screamed. The mom tripped over me and we both went down on the sidewalk. The impact knocked the breath out of me and I cried out in pain as my hip and leg hit the sidewalk.
But the sound was drowned out by a huge crash behind us. I turned to see a red van trample the fence and crash into the PRoVE headquarters’ porch.
Sheila held my arm. "We were just there. How—"
"There's someone inside," Thomas interrupted.
He raised his walkie-talkie. "Vehicle crash at HQ. Van's on fire. People trapped."
"It's on fire?" I said, as he ran towards the van.
But he was right. The back door to the van had swung open and I could see small flames inside.
Sheila pulled at me. "Move back. That's a food truck. It could explode."
The van's side said "Calavera Catrina's Mexican Churros" in gothic script. The legend "try our deadly ghost pepper chocolate topping" was written in flowing letters below.
"They have propane tanks for cooking," Sheila shouted, leading me away.
"But Thomas is there," I exclaimed.
He was struggling to help the driver out of the vehicle. Time seemed to stand still until he finally got the driver loose and they ran over to meet us on the other side of the street.
A fire truck appeared, lights flashing, and the firefighters spread out to contain the flames.
"That was fast," I said, as paramedics reached us and led the van driver to a stretcher.
"They were," Thomas gasped for breath, "already on their way."
A paramedic approached him, but he waved her off.
"I'm fine," he said. "But what about—"
"MOMMY."
Sheila turned with a joyful expression on her face. Ginny was running down the side street toward us, the colorful doll held tightly in her arms.
Sheila squealed with glee, then glanced back at the collapsed porch and paled.
"She would've been waiting for me," she whispered in an anguished voice. "Right there."
"Mommy," Ginny shouted again as she ran towards us, the rainbow doll clutched tightly in her hands.
"Sweetie." Sheila enveloped her tightly in her arms. "Where were you?"
"I got lost," Ginny explained. "I know I was supposed to come to the big, green porch and wait for you, but she called me."
"Who?" Sheila asked. "Do you mean the police lady?"
"No." Ginny waved the doll in the air. "I mean her. Rai
nbow Brite."
Thomas and I exchanged looks.
"She said I had to come get her," Ginny explained. "So I went to the store and it was open and everything. I couldn't see the doll, but I followed the kitty to pet him and found the box."
Ah, Bubo, you little traitor. You wanted to get rid of the doll and you figured out the perfect way to do it.
Ginny grinned. "She said she'd help me find you and she did."
She glanced at the wrecked van, as if only just noticing it. "That looks bad."
"It was bad," Sheila answered. "Next time stick by Mommy, okay?" She glanced back at me. "And I think you have to give the dolly back."
As if. That's not the way this worked. The new owners were not able to return the items. The item itself decided when it was time to part, and it's keeper had no—
"Here you go." Ginny pushed the doll towards me. "She wants to go home now."
The thing practically leaped into my hands. I was frozen to the spot, staring at doll’s oddly satisfied smile.
"I can't keep her," Ginny explained. "She has to help other kids."
"She does?" I asked.
The doll’s smile seemed to grow wider.
Ginny nodded. "She remembers." She took her piggy bank back then turned to her mom. "Can I have an Abominable Snowman Milkshake before we leave?"
"Sure, honey," Sheila said, taking her hand.
"Good luck," Thomas said, looking relieved.
Sheila grinned. "Oh, we've had plenty of that, thank heavens."
And she walked off, still holding her daughter's hand.
They left me and Thomas, alone with only a wrecked porch and a smoldering truck for company. Thomas peered at the doll in my hands. He reached out and rubbed out a smudge on the doll’s cheek.
“Ashes,” he said.
I didn’t ask how the doll had acquired a sooty covering on the other side of town. I really didn’t want to know.
"There was always one survivor, you know,” Thomas said. “A kid."
I didn't ask how he knew that. He'd read the memo just like I had.
"Yes," I said. "I just realized that."
He reached out to stroke the toy's fluffy golden hair. "She always got one kid out."
I nodded. Jenny Luna wasn’t able to save everyone, but she always saved someone.
"I better take her back to the store now," I said.
Thomas looked up to see a police cruiser parking at the curb. "And I should go talk to the police." He sighed, glancing at the porch. "I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Caine."
I looked down at the doll. "And I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Bubo."
"Who?"
"My cat," I replied. "He...oh, never mind."
It wasn’t something I could explain. I would have to deal with my pyrophobic feline on my own.
“Here’s a thought,” Thomas said, "I could drop by later and we could head to the happy hour."
My heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I don’t…”
Wait, was the doll winking at me?
“It’s going to be a blast,” he continued. “But if you—“
“I’ll go,” I said quickly. “It sounds fun.”
“Oh, it will be. Zak has a new—“
The buzzing walkie-talkie interrupted him. He grimaced and picked it up.
"Hey, Caine," he said into the radio. "Everything is under control." He paused to listen. "Yes, Fire and Rescue is here and so is the sheriff."
More listening. Thomas glanced at the damaged building and ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.
"Well, there's good news and bad news.” The radio squawked loudly. “You know how the real meaning of Yule is survival over the forces of nature and all that jazz?“
I could hear Caine cursing over the line. That was my cue to go. I had a store to manage, a doll to put away, and an ornery daemon cat who was about to get a big shock to handle. I smiled, stepped back, and waved goodbye.
Thomas waved back apologetically.
"Well," I heard him say as I walked away. “The good news is you're getting a new porch for Christmas this year."
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. A full list of books is available on my website, www.AniGonzalez.biz. If you join my mailing list you’ll get updates on when the next Banshee Creek stories are published and the first three PRoVE novelettes, One Night with the Golden Goddess, One Night in the Mummy’s Lair, and One Night in the Chupacabras Ranch, FREE.
About the Author
Ani Gonzalez writes paranormal romantic comedy and cozy mystery (whew, that's a mouthful!) set in Banshee Creek, Virginia, The Most Haunted Town in the USA. Her books feature feisty, irrepressible heroines dealing with a host of paranormal critters (ghosts, cryptids, pagan gods...the sky's the limit) and mysteries. They find love and laughter (and sometimes corpses) along the way, and readers get to follow them every step of the way.
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A Dark Root Solstice: Aunt Dora’s Dilemma
April Aasheim
Summary
The fabled Oak Crown has been stolen. Aunt Dora has until dusk to find it, or the world will be trapped in winter for another year.
Chapter One
A bitter wind swept down the frozen forest path leading from downtown Dark Root to Harvest Home. Dora Maddock, a woman of high-middle age, bowed her head and squared her shoulders as her boots stomped down on the ice. Her hair - more salt now than pepper - rearranged itself around her face with each gust, doing its best to obscure her vision. But Dora knew this path like the back of her veined hand and wouldn’t be deterred.
“Not much longer, now,” she said to herself, as well as any nature spirit who might be listening. In her youth, Dora had spent a lot of time in the forest, and though it was difficult to get around these days, she still felt awe and reverence for the woods and the trees. It was one of the reasons she loved Dark Root. The tiny town, nestled in a dense forest, was the perfect compromise between modern living and her more primitive roots.
She stopped and leaned against a bare tree, setting her shopping bags down so she could massage the crest of her hip with her strong knuckles. Her bursitis was acting up, as it did every winter. The ache was deep from the walk and she knew that even her strongest willow bark tea would do little to numb it.
“It’ll all be worth it,” she said, picking up her bags.
A smile appeared on her weathered face as she pictured her four nieces all gathered around the dining room table for the Midwinter’s Feast this evening. Dora had secured a goose - and a ham! - but the weight was more than she had anticipated. She should have taken one of the many offers for a ride home, but she was too proud. She’d seen too many women - even those who had a little magick in them as she did - become dependent on others. She wasn’t about to be one of them! Even if she did have to fake it, at times. Besides, tonight when she placed the Oak Crown on the altar, the Holly King would relinquish his hold on winter. And then the Oak King would bring warmth to the world again. Today might be the darkest, shortest day of the year, but the wheel kept turning and tomorrow would start the world anew.
She hurried on and soon realized she was limping. Indeed, she noticed that her left footprints were different from her right. Once again, she chided herself for being foolish and not getting a ride.
“I’ll just use my broom!” She had said with a wink when the owner of the local cafe had asked how she was getting home.
Bill had smiled and waved her a Merry Solstice before disappearing to attend to more pressing business. Dark Root was bustling with last-minute shoppers and those who’d come for the small town’s holiday charm. And the crowds always led to chaos. There had been tales of shops running out of inventory, of the petting zoo losing all its reindeer, and of Mr. Claus kissing a woman who clearly wasn’t Mrs. Claus.
At last, her proud Victorian h
ome appeared in an expansive clearing. She said a quick thank you to the nature spirits for getting her back safely, then did her best to keep her footing as she made her way across the open field to the back door of the house. The lingering scents of fruitcake and scones and mincemeat pies wafted out through the kitchen window. Streamers of gray-white smoke billowed up from the chimney, evidence the Yule log continued to burn. Red and green lights draped lovingly around the eaves winked at her with promises of warmth.
Dora stamped her boots free of snow as she searched her pockets for her house key. After the third dive into her left pocket, she found it. Her bushy brows narrowed into a deep point. “Tis the season of Krampus,” she said, looking cautiously back over her shoulder as she slid the key into the lock. “Always stealing things an’ tryin’ ta mess with people.” She felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, and whether it was the wind or her imagination or something else, she couldn’t ascertain.
She could almost hear her nieces laughing at her as she pushed the door open with her good hip. She’d been telling them stories of Krampus all week, because it was important they know the truth. If they were expected to believe in the light side of Yule, they needed to see the darker side, too. The mischievous imp Krampus was responsible for much of the mayhem during the holidays. He went around dousing Yule logs, stealing oranges, and poking the feet of naughty children while they slept. He didn’t leave toys. He took them! Only to throw them over a cliff so no child could ever play with them! Santa didn’t bring coal - Krampus did! He was a master of mischief, who took great delight in annoying others, even if that annoyance was simply a key that turned up in a pocket only after it had been thoroughly searched for twice already.
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