Pumpkins & Poltergeists, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 1

by Nyx Halliwell

  Her mouth falls open. “What are you talking about?”

  With the gun, he motions at Winter. “Who’s that?”

  Prissy, somehow believing they’re still partners, tells him. “She’s a witch, like Ava. The tea she made me… I spilled my guts about things. And then she did some kind of spell that kept me from leaving.”

  “Friend of yours?” he asks me.

  Probably not after I’ve nearly gotten her killed. Unfortunately, impending death is not off the table yet.

  Prissy steps toward him again and uses a cajoling voice. “There’s no reason this has to go bad between us. I can help you take care of her and Ava, too.”

  He shakes his head as though exasperated. “I don’t need your help, you stupid girl. I have everything under control. The scene is already set—there was a fight between the three of you, I heard shots and ran over to see what was going on. After I kill you in self-defense,”—he points the gun at Prissy—“I’ll blame the other two deaths on you as well.”

  The gun turns toward Winter. I scream and jump between her and the gun, and just as I do Aunt Willa appears next to Uphill.

  “Preston! You scoundrel. Don’t you dare! You can’t do this in my house against my niece.”

  Uphill startles—can he hear her?—and flinches. Seeing my opportunity, I jump, reaching for the gun.

  Just as I do, a cold gust of air blows past my face, pushing hair across my eyes. Calista’s laughter rings out, sending chills down my spine.

  I see a ghostly swish of energy as she attacks Aunt Willa, and when I grab the gun it fires.

  Chapter Forty-One

  White hot pain rips through my shoulder. At the same time, Tabby launches herself onto Uphill, digging her claws into his thigh.

  He screams; the gun points up to the ceiling, and Aunt Willa and Calista wrestle in the air as I stumble back, tripping on the chair leg.

  Falling, I try to avoid Winter’s body and shout for Persephone.

  What did Uphill do to the house to reverse Aunt Willa’s protection charm? I land hard, my injured arm unable to support me, and I tumble over the broken cup near Winter’s body. Blood drips, there’s a sizzle, and a fireball explodes around us.

  The bright light floods the room, partially blinding me as I roll away. As if everyone else is suddenly frozen, time seems to stand still.

  Through the icy whiteness around me, I can actually see Calista’s full form, fingers reaching like claws toward Aunt Willa’s face.

  Prissy, who took cover behind the other office chair, is huddled into a ball. Uphill and Tabby are frozen in their pas de deux.

  A dark, wiggling thread of energy floats out of Calista’s chest. It’s barely visible, but I can trace it through the air between us.

  It doesn’t lead to Prissy, but to Preston Uphill.

  He’s the revenant master.

  Knew it.

  The light is sucked out of the room as quickly as it came, and time restarts. Uphill finishes his scream, Tabby’s claws tearing through his pants into his skin. Prissy mews like a kitten in fear.

  Instinctively, I push myself toward the desk. My shirt’s sticky from the blood. My right arm tries to reach for the letter opener but doesn’t succeed, the searing pain turning to numbness.

  I swing my left hand around, thanking Tabby for keeping Uphill distracted. I grab the letter opener.

  The gun comes down, Uphill grabbing Tabby and wrenching her from his leg. Instantly, I’m as angry as I’ve ever been. Tabby may be in cat form right now, but she’s my grandmother, and I’m not about to let anyone hurt her.

  The gaping distance between us is too much for me to gain my feet and make it to that thread between master and ghost. I’m a poor thrower even with my right hand, but I have no other option.

  With Uphill’s gun swinging around to point at me and him ready to pull the trigger, all I can do is rear back and throw the letter opener as hard as I can.

  It flips end over end through the air in slow motion. At the same time the gun goes off once more.

  Aunt Willa throws a ghostly hand out toward the bullet that exits the gun, my undivided attention locked on it.

  The knife cuts through the connection between Uphill and Calista. Calista stops in mid-strike, ready to hit my aunt in the face with her clawed hands, and all the rage drains from her.

  A ripple of energy rockets through the space. I drop to the floor, dodging the bullet but feeling the breeze as it spins past my temple.

  The front door crashes open.

  As Uphill yells in frustration at missing me, and Calista waivers in and out of a ghostly form, Logan sprints into the room. He takes everything in in a quick second and jumps on Uphill, knocking him to the floor.

  Persephone appears behind Logan, and I dive for the gun as it spins away.

  Calista turns and looks at me, her face drawn in sadness and horror. “I’m sorry,” she says in a shaking voice. “I never meant to…”

  Logan has Uphill’s hands pinned behind his back, one of his knees digging into the man’s side. He glances my way, and I see his face morph as he registers the gunshot and my bleeding shoulder.

  “I know,” I say to Calista. To Logan, I try to reassure, “I’m okay. We just need to…”

  The room spins and I pitch forward, catching myself on the edge of the fallen chair back. Black dots dance in the corners of my eyes, and Persephone says, “Looking a little peaked there.”

  My stomach heaves, eyes attempting to roll up inside my head. I fall sideways to the floor once more, the world tilting on its axis.

  Before the world goes dark, I see Calista attack Uphill.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I wake up at the clinic sometime later. Doc has bandaged my arm and the police are there to take my statement. The bullet went through, Doc tells me, and I guess I’ll live.

  The police arrested Prissy Barnes and Preston Uphill, and Detective Jones instructs one of the cops on duty to dig up Preston’s yard where I direct them to.

  Uphill is in the county lock-up, and Prissy has pinned everything on him, Jones tells me. Apparently, neither mentioned the ghost, but I don’t care—Mama is free. She stops at the clinic to check on me, and after a bit I send her home to get some rest.

  They find Willa’s key, and, bonus, the rock used to hit her on the back of the head.

  Winter shows up a bit later. My friend came out of last night’s fiasco okay and refuses to be examined. She got Calista to cross over permanently, and we both hope to never see her again. Knowing I’m in good hands between Logan, Mama, and Rosie, she kisses my forehead and leaves to return to her home in Raven Falls.

  Doc keeps me at the clinic the rest of the night and I’m anxious to go home, but Mama is busy getting the delayed parade back up and running. As I walk out of the clinic, feeling a touch of deja vu, I find a red convertible waiting for me in the parking lot.

  Logan piles out, smiling. He opens the passenger door, and although I’d like to come up with a snarky comment I simply smile back and get in. He hands me coffee and a bag from Queenie’s. Suddenly, I’m ravenous. He updates me on a few details about the day’s events while I stuff my face.

  He drops me at Aunt Willa’s so I can freshen up and change clothes while he checks on a few things at his office. Not easy to do with my arm still somewhat out of commission, but I manage. Doc loaded me up with painkillers and sleep aids, which I don’t think I’ll need. I’m planning a full-on crash later.

  I send Winter a quick text once I find my phone and tell her thanks for all her help. She replies immediately to ask how I’m doing. I tell her that I haven’t been this good in a long time, and that’s the truth, plain and simple.

  After I finish with her, I call my dad. “Just checking on you,” I tell him.

  “My baby.” His voice is a deep baritone and I can sense his smile in it. “How are you?”

  “I have a lot to tell you. Do you think you can visit me one of these days?”

  “
Say the word and I’m there.”

  “I’m moving to Thornhollow,” I blurt.

  There’s a weighted silence. “Your mama finally blackmail you into moving home?”

  “There’s a lot more to it, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m real sorry about Willa Rae. I always liked her.”

  The front door opens and Logan peaks in. “You coming?”

  “I’ve got to run, Dad. I love you.”

  “I’ll see you in a few days.”

  After I hang up, I go to Logan. “Do you think after everything that’s happened, that someone else could take my place?”

  He shakes his head and holds his hand out. “Are you kidding? You’re the star of the show.”

  News travels fast in our little town, and I have no doubt everyone has heard the story about what happened last night. Reluctantly, I walk toward him, take his hand, and let him lead me back out to the convertible.

  The sun is warm on my face as we resume our place at the front of the line, even more people gathered along the sides of Main Street, talking, laughing. It takes more work today, but Mama finally silences the majority of them and launches into a new speech.

  I’m only half listening, my shoulder beginning to throb as the morning’s pain meds wear off, but I feel clear-headed. I’m relieved to have uncovered the truth about Aunt Willa’s death, as well as some truths about other things. There are plenty of people in the crowd beaming at me, and I sense a collective relief from them as well. So many people were touched by Aunt Willa’s life, and knowing she’s received justice in death seems to make them happy.

  “I want to take one moment to recognize my daughter,” Mama says.

  There’s some clapping and a few cheers and people wave to me up and down the blocks.

  “If it weren’t for her, I might not be standing here talking to you today. If it weren’t for her and her…”—she clears her throat—“gifts, my sister’s murder might have gone unsolved. I can’t think of anyone Willa Ray would want more than Ava to continue her tradition and to lead this parade.”

  Cheers ring out, and without any prompting, I stand. Heat rises up my neck into my cheeks, but I accept the praise graciously. Logan places a finger and thumb between his lips and gives a sharp whistle. I can’t help but laugh.

  “I want to request a favor of all of you,” Mama continues. “If you have a chance to speak to Ava at any point this weekend, or support her efforts with the wedding this afternoon or the wine tour tomorrow, please do so! Tell her we need her, make her feel welcome, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll move back home.”

  Laughter and a smattering of clapping echoes through the crowd. Someone yells, “We need you, Ava!”

  Someone else joins in. “It’s time to come home!”

  I recognize those voices, one being Braxton and the other his mother. I roll my eyes and sit, and with a few final words from Mama the parade gets under way.

  * * *

  Once the parade is over, Logan and I head to the speakeasy to put the finishing touches on things before the wedding. His mother gives me a nod of approval over the chocolate and wine baskets, and soon, the florist, Queenie, and Reverend Stout arrive. Even Mama stops by to see if I need helped with anything.

  At 4 p.m. on the dot, Miranda walks down the aisle we’ve created between rows and rows of chairs filled with people. Ty and his groomsmen look stunning against the backdrop of the valley, the rich red satin of the bridesmaids’ dresses popping against the natural fall colors surrounding us.

  The vows are said without any drama other than a few tears from various folks in the crowd. It truly is a stunning wedding, and throughout the reception I receive numerous compliments. I make sure that everyone knows it was a joint venture and I couldn’t have pulled it off without the Cross family, Rosie, Queenie, and all the others, including my mother.

  I keep it to myself that Ty and Miranda are technically already married, thanks to Reverend Stout and my sneakiness the day before. I needed to be sure they had at least that in case Calista was able to ruin today.

  Throughout the wedding and reception, I spot a few extra ghostly guests and toward the end of the night, I pull Miranda to a quiet spot outside and give her a message from her father who is on the other side. “He’s so proud,” I tell her, and her eyes go wide as saucers.

  “You see him?” she asks in a whisper.

  I nod. “He loves that you pinned one of his army medals on your crinoline.”

  No one but me, and probably her mother, know it’s there. Her eyes swim with happy tears. “Thank you,” she says, placing her hand on my arm and squeezing. “Just…thank you.”

  After the bride and groom head off on their honeymoon, the guests begin to file out. Mrs. Cross receives plenty of inquiries into buying the chocolate and wine baskets and mentions to me in passing that we better have more for the tour tomorrow.

  Ty’s mother seems pleased as well, and at one point lets me know she’ll be looking into my proposal in more detail in the coming weeks now that the wedding is done.

  I’m dead on my feet, and looking forward to a long night in bed, when Logan saunters over and asks me to dance. “You deserve at least one trip around the floor,” he says. “And I’d be honored to be your partner.”

  Across the way, I see Braxton smile at us. Rhys is with him, and they both wink at me.

  Logan is dressed in a nice suit and fits right in with the wedding guests. His hand is warm as I take it. “You never told me how you knew I was in trouble last night.”

  He gently leads me to the dance floor, taking me in his arms and swaying to the slow tune the DJ is playing in order to wind up the reception. “I had a visit from a ghost.”

  I lean back slightly, my brows jumping up in surprise. “You saw a ghost?”

  He chuckles so softly I barely hear it above the music, but I feel it in his body, a warm sensation spreading throughout mine in response. “She was kind of odd, and I thought maybe I was losing my sanity, but she said you needed help.”

  “What did she look like?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

  He glances away, his brows knitting in a frown. “She had weird orange hair, and bright green and blue clothes on, tons of makeup, and, honestly, she had a really snotty attitude. She looked like that one actress who used to be on an old sitcom series my grandma watched back in the day.”

  I sigh, leaning into him a little more and enjoying how safe he feels. “She’s not really a ghost, per say. More of a spirit guide.”

  “Oh, you mean like your guardian angel or something?”

  “Or something.” Instinctually, I lean my head on his chest and close my eyes.

  “I was on my way when I heard the gunshot.” He strokes my hair. “Thought I was going to lose you again.”

  My knight in shining armor. Or more like a three-piece suit.

  It’s a beautiful night. The Snow White wedding is a blessed success with plenty of pumpkins, love, and joy.

  And no poltergeists.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  After a full eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, I wake to find Mama downstairs brewing coffee. I must look a sight because she gives me a double take when I wander into the kitchen.

  The cats greet me, and I feed them as she pours me coffee. My arm aches and I massage the area around the wound gently.

  “Logan was over a little bit ago and asked if we want to go over the will today,” she says as I plunk down at the table and sip the delicious brew.

  I was hoping I might see Aunt Willa yesterday or last night, but I was too tired by the time I got home at 1 a.m., after cleaning up the speakeasy, to really tune into the spirit world. “It’s Sunday, why aren’t you at church?”

  She shrugs. “Today, I want to spend time with my daughter. I think the Lord will understand after what we’ve both been through in the past few days.”

  She joins me at the table and we sit and discuss normal things, like the weather, the homecoming game—we won—and
my plans for staying on.

  I don’t feel the usual abrasiveness at discussing this with her today. I feel a real sense of belonging, a new sense of purpose. I share this with her and see her beam with happiness. “But,” I amend, “if I move back, you have to promise not to drive me nuts about my life and what I’m doing with it.”

  She makes a motion of zipping her lips shut, locking them, and throwing away the key. Which reminds me, “Did the police give you Aunt Willa’s key back?”

  She shakes her head. “For now it’s evidence, so until Uphill has his day in court, we probably won’t see it.”

  I don’t really need it now, but for sentimental purposes I’d still like to have it. “What’s going to happen to his bed and breakfast? Has anyone been over there to help his guests?”

  “Actually, yes. Queenie was over this morning bright and early to make sure they all had breakfast, and most will be leaving today after the wine tour. She said that Braxton and Rhys have their eye on the place.” She scoffs without any energy behind it. “Like they need another business!”

  True, but… “I think that’d be awesome.” It would be so fun to have my bestie next door. “They could live there, and I’m sure they could hire more help for the other businesses.”

  “Well, Preston Uphill doesn’t have any relations that I know of,” she says. “So his property might be up for grabs at some point, if he’s convicted.”

  “When he’s convicted,” I correct.

  Taking my coffee, I go upstairs, enjoy a shower—tricky with my bandaged arm—and spend a little extra time on my hair and makeup.

  Not that I’m anticipating seeing Logan or anything. Actually, I dread going through Willa’s estate documents, but doing it with Logan will ease the pain for me.

  The temperature is in the low seventies as Mama and I make our way across the street to his office. A few leaves blow across our path. He and Moxley greet us at the door and Logan ushers us inside.