The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

by Kennedy Layne

  Knox was part of our merry band of mystery hunters, as Pearl had dubbed us a while ago. I don’t believe it had so much to do with solving the murders in my premonitions as much as it did with his own personal vendetta against Ammeline Letty Romilda.

  I don’t blame either one of you, especially considering that we’re not just seeking her for the cure to both of your hexes. It is well-documented that the immortality she has cast upon herself will likely cause her to eventually go insane. In conclusion and in combination with her extraordinary power, that is not good for any supernatural being.

  Regardless, Knox was a part of our group now and had informed us earlier that he was going to do a bit of reconnaissance of the small town we were visiting north of the Twin Cities. He didn’t travel with us in the RV, and his decision to do so had nothing to do with Orwin’s allergies.

  Do you think perhaps it has to do with the aluminum foil hat inside Mr. Cornelia’s desk drawer?

  Just so you all know, Orwin did not have an aluminum hat tucked away somewhere inside the RV.

  Are you sure about that, dear hexed one?

  Knox simply liked his space, and I couldn’t blame him. He seemed solitary by nature, and this whole thing of being turned into a werewolf had done a number on his senses. Werewolves had always made me rather uneasy, but there was something deeply inherent in Knox’s character that had me lowering my guard.

  I shot Pearl a warning glance, knowing that she’d completely take my thought out of context and twist it to imply some romantic connotation. Trust me, I didn’t have time for such nonsense.

  Are you saying that you don’t believe in love anymore, Miss Lilura?

  I wasn’t touching that question with a ten-foot pole or an errant piece of chocolate chip cookie. Speaking of which, my milk was becoming lukewarm. I’d rather concentrate on eating than hearing any more knock-knock jokes or the reason why love existed in the first place.

  Fine. We’ll table that discussion for another time, but don’t believe for one second you’ll be getting off scot-free. I do believe there is hope for you yet.

  “If it relieves any worries, there’s not a vampire or another werewolf near this town for fifty miles in any direction,” Knox said, claiming the seat that Orwin had given up. He rubbed his five o’clock shadow as he studied me across the top of the orange flames. “I’m not sure about any other supernatural beings in the area, but at least we don’t have to worry about another set of fangs.”

  “I might stop by the campus first thing in the morning while Piper and Orwin do a little bit more research on Cassandra before we meet her in the afternoon,” I replied, very happy with myself that I’d easily defeated the packaging and was able to pull back the flap to reveal the single row of chocolate chip cookies. “Orwin has already researched Cassandra’s college friends using social media, and not one of them seem to come from a family of witches. It seems like she’s trying to have a life outside of her coven, and I can relate to her decision. I do understand Pearl’s hesitancy when it comes to her posting the video of a séance, regardless of the fact that everyone else thought it was a harmless prank.”

  I would assume Ms. Saruman’s parents and coven had a very strong opinion over doing something so foolish.

  “Pearl, our kind doesn’t have it easy nowadays with social media and all the technology around us,” Piper reminded her familiar, getting a nod of agreement from Knox. He’d basically cut ties with his family and friends, with the small exception of a text here and there to let them know he was still alive. “I’m sure Cassandra was just trying to fit in, and even Orwin mentioned that the séance wasn’t her idea. At least, according to the conversation before they all started lighting the candles in their dorm room.”

  You know my opinion of charlatans, my sweet Piper.

  “I’ll drive to the campus with you,” Knox offered, his dark gaze dropping to the cookie in my hand. He’d have to wait his turn, because this little treat was all mine. Did werewolves even like sugar? “How close is this coven of witches that Cassandra descends from?”

  Not close enough to keep an eye on one of their descendants.

  “The coven resides in or around Duluth, so about an hour or more from here,” Piper reiterated, just in a more diplomatic manner.

  My mouth practically salivated at the delicious scent wafting from the opening in the package. The conversation continued to flow around me while I randomly chose a cookie and picked up my glass of milk. It wasn’t as cold as I’d have liked, but I was going to take these few moments to enjoy something I used to do quite often before my hex.

  There seems to be a lot of acronyms these days, Miss Lilura. Maybe we should start referring to that time as BMH—before my hex. It would certainly save us time and energy, and it is quite inventive, if I must say.

  The cozy scent of burning wood was by far one my most favorite fragrances of the fall season, but homemade cookies came a close second. Seeing as I hadn’t had those since BMH, this would have to suffice.

  I had already dipped my cookie into my glass of milk when my vision became slightly blurry, immediately telling me that the inevitable was about to happen.

  No, no, no.

  I hadn’t even gotten to take a bite of the delectable treat, but I knew enough not to fight the inescapable vision that was about to be played right before my eyes. Breathing became next to impossible as a barely perceptible ringing began to resonate in my ears. There was nothing I could do except allow myself to be immersed in the premonition.

  Oh, these visions always give me the collywobbles.

  Oddly enough, due to a familiar having a link to the thoughts of witches and warlocks, Pearl was about to see every detail that played out in my mind. She and I both got a little nauseated over the graphic images, and I’d never wish these visions on my worst enemy.

  Oh, I don’t know about that, my dear hexed one. There is one particular Lich Queen who might be deserving of such a curse.

  I suddenly found myself at the bottom of a very long and winding staircase, the kind you would see in an old mansion. I’d come to know that even the most miniscule detail could be important in locating the scene of the crime, but it wasn’t always easy for me to focus on anything other than the victim—in this case, an elderly woman with long silver hair and matching jewelry.

  The beautiful older female was probably in her mid-to-late seventies and wearing what some would say was a Victorian-style dress, although it had a more modern feel to it. She was clearly from wealth by the way she walked and carried herself, but it was also evident something had scared her as she quickly made her way down the marble staircase.

  I could see no sign of present danger, but that didn’t stop the elderly woman from emitting a loud gasp of horror as she suddenly lurched forward and tumbled down the stairs to her death.

  And just like that, I was back in the present with Knox kneeling in front of me.

  Well, wasn’t that just dandy? Those pesky premonitions always leave me a bit knackered.

  The cold damp sensation that had settled in my bones was a chill that not even the warmth of the campfire could take away, but I knew that it would fade from previous experiences.

  “Are you okay?” Knox was searching my gaze for some type of reassurance. He’d never witnessed one of my premonitions before, and I didn’t like that he’d seen me at my most vulnerable. I know it didn’t make sense, but I’d brought everyone together. I needed to be the strong one…the leader. “Here. Give me those.”

  Knox had taken the package of cookies from my lap, along with the glass of milk that was almost overflowing thanks to the cookie I’d dropped inside. My chest hurt from being deprived of oxygen for the duration, but my gasping breaths began to even out with each second that passed.

  Where is the alien hunter with my spot of warm cream?

  “Lou, what did you see?” Piper asked earnestly, knowing full well that the faster I recalled the details of a premonition, the easier it was for us to find
the location. Unfortunately, it wasn’t like the potential victim had given me her name and address. “I’m ready.”

  Would you like to tell her about the lack of relevant details, or should I?

  Piper had decided that she’d use the notes application on her phone to dictate every detail I could remember from the vision. Fortunately, Pearl was able to catch sight of things I couldn’t when I got caught up in the murder mystery.

  There was only one problem.

  Yes, dear hexed one, and I must say it’s a doozy.

  “What’s going on?” Orwin asked after he’d opened the door to the RV, having no idea he’d joined us at the right time for the big reveal. He stepped down, putting himself within range of our thoughts. “Oh, wow. That’s a new one.”

  Knox and Piper shared a confused look between one another, feeling a bit on the outside of what was developing.

  “Would someone like to clue us in?” Knox all but demanded, still holding my elusive chocolate chip cookies. “Why is this premonition different from the others?”

  You might as well get this over with, dear hexed one. Think of it like a Band-Aid. Just rip it off, and maybe…just maybe, it will make sense to us.

  “An older woman was just pushed to her death down a long and winding staircase in some ancient manor house,” I finally managed to say, though my confession hadn’t stung like an adhesive being pulled off my skin. Pearl was right. Nothing we saw in that vision added up. I sat a little straighter so that I came across as having some bit of composure. “Either we’re dealing with the impossibility of thin air suddenly shoving a woman in the back to her death or we might actually be dealing with an evil poltergeist who’s taken to murder as a sideline.”

  On second thought, it might have been wise to keep that detail to ourselves. Mr. Emeric seems to have lost a bit of color at the thought of a resident ghost. Oh, well. We must all deal with things we do not care to imagine. Why, just look at me. I cope with living on the road with an alien hunter while hunting down the elusive Lich Queen without batting an eyelash. I should be rewarded…with a warm spot of cream, sometime in the very near future. Don’t you agree, my dear colleagues?

  Chapter Two

  “Are we sure this is the place?” Piper asked skeptically, stepping out of my red Jeep Wrangler two days after I’d had my most recent premonition of murder. We towed my baby behind the RV for purposes just like this—easier access to crime scenes and logistical support. “Lou, this place is downright beautiful and not anything like you described from your vision.”

  Miss Lilura, not to question your ability to use a GPS, but are you sure this is the place from your vision? I don’t recall it feeling so inviting. From the inside, at least.

  I couldn’t disagree with Piper and Pearl more, given that the old English-styled mansion looked positively stunning in person. It reminded me of those English countryside estates described in the turn of the century novels.

  Weathered grey stones rose into the sky to form a gabled manmade mountain, guarded by stoic gargoyle statues at various peaks. The main bulk of the manor was flanked on either side by massive wings at least three stories high.

  Tall dark windows peered out from the walls of stone, making one feel as if he or she were being watched by the house itself. Centered at the top of an ornate, two-tiered granite entry step were two large oak doors which featured leaded glass inlays. The thick cut glass refracted rainbows from their beveled edges, giving the massive manor before us a welcoming and almost joyous impression.

  ’Tis hard to believe that a murder took place inside those stone walls.

  The long double lane driveway had been lined with large majestic weeping willow trees that provided shade from the sun. The hundreds of acres were perfectly manicured, although the flowerbeds had been covered in preparation for the upcoming winter.

  In place of the colorful blooms were yellow haystacks, abundant cornstalks, and various orange pumpkins that appeared to have been professionally carved. All the fall and Halloween decorations had been done very tastefully, and without any of the traditional frightening and fun props that were seen in the yards of surrounding towns.

  I must admit that I’m not fond of those standard black cat decorations with their hunched backs and fur that stand on end. It causes us intellectually inclined felines to look as if we’re frightened beyond belief. I will have you know that we are braver than any human on the face of this earth.

  “I actually read that cats are scared of cucumbers,” Piper pointed out, shading her eyes from the morning sun as she looked around our surroundings. Seeing as Pearl was currently invisible, anyone looking out from the monstrous residence would assume that Piper was talking to me. “Not that I would ever do that to you, Pearl. But I did wonder if that was true after seeing videos on social media.”

  No, my sweet Piper. There’s not one bit of truth to that myth. We simply just don’t care for certain veggies.

  Personally, I loved this holiday and all the creepy and crawly things that went with Halloween…including the black scaredy cats with the big green eyes. Maybe it was because I was raised as a witch, and we had fun using the holiday to both hide and celebrate our abilities.

  Tell me, my sweet Piper, does the alien hunter know about these videos?

  I hid my smile, not wanting Pearl to think that I found the chink in her armor humorous. She’d take it wrong, and then I’d feel like a petty miserable human being for anticipating Orwin actually buying a cucumber to set behind Pearl when she wasn’t looking…and then stepping back to wait out her expectant overreaction.

  “Orwin wouldn’t do that,” Piper replied, though I’m pretty sure I heard a bit of hesitancy in her tone. Maybe that was due to the not-so-nice words that had been verbalized when Orwin’s cereal bowl had landed on the carpet of the RV. “Right, Lou?”

  I hated being dragged into the group’s latest drama, especially when it involved minor squabbles between Orwin and Pearl. Granted, those two could be downright entertaining, but I really did value what little I had left of my life. Speaking of which…

  “Let’s just concentrate on the case,” I said, redirecting the conversation without a hitch. I nodded toward the other vehicles parked in the circular cobblestone drive, noticing that the majority of them were luxury sedans from prominent manufacturers. There was one vehicle that stood out from the rest, but I wouldn’t necessarily have called it a clunker. “My premonitions usually provide us a twenty-four-hour lead time before the murder actually occurs. Unfortunately, we are well past that window.”

  I’d just like to point out that you didn’t divert our previous discussion without a hitch, my dear hexed one. There is definitely a hitch that we’ll be discussing later this evening. Minus the presence of any provocative vegetables.

  “Oh, you’re in trouble now,” Piper murmured as we both began to walk toward the grand entrance of the mansion. “Pearl never forgets, nor forgives getting punked.”

  My sweet girl knows me so well, doesn’t she?

  “What I know is that these vehicles have to be here for the older woman’s funeral,” I pointed out, wanting to stick to the business at hand. I didn’t want to invade this family’s private grieving process, but I needed to know if this truly was the crime scene I’d envisioned during my premonition. “Who would have ever thought that this mansion would have been located north of Duluth? I mean, that’s only an hour from the campsite.”

  We’d wasted precious time researching the wrong area, truly believing that the murder site we were looking for had been in Wisconsin based on a picture that Pearl had recalled from my vision. Like I said, she was able to catch the slightest details while I had a very hard time looking away from the murder victim. It wasn’t that I wanted to stare at the graphic and horrible deaths of those victims, but my brain wouldn’t allow me to concentrate on anything else.

  What a troubling hex.

  Your curse certainly is a thorn in our sides, but it does allow us to help others.
In this case, most likely a grieving family who are looking for answers.

  Anyway, we’d had to cancel our meeting with Cassandra Opal Saruman yesterday, fully believing that we would be packing up and driving to Wisconsin. Fortunately, Orwin had been able to track down the specific picture that Pearl had described in detail and discovered that it had been painted for a woman by the name of Florence Isla Ashton…a woman who just so happened to live in a mansion that seemed to fit the place we were looking for just north of Duluth.

  Ashton is a very important and affluent name in this area, if Mr. Cornelia’s research is anything to go by. Did you happen to see the zeroes on the end of those numerous charity grants bestowed in the surname of Ashton?

  The Ashtons’ estimated net worth absolutely surpassed any amount of money I’d ever personally known anyone to have, but the upkeep on this place alone had to be astronomical.

  I assume they have a large staff on hand. If we aren’t dealing with the supernatural, then each and every family member, personal friend, and employee will have to go on the suspect list.

  “Speaking of which, I found this amazing app that allows private investigators to put all their notes into numbered case files,” Piper shared, patting her cross-body purse that rested against the front of her right hip. “It even has this handy white board where I can connect suspects to the victim, including motive. It’s really cool.”

  We’re not changing your name to Nancy Drew, my sweet. Sometimes you do worry me with your inquisitiveness.

  “It feels good to help others,” Piper quipped, unable to pass one of the Mercedes in the driveway without being distracted. She attempted to nonchalantly look inside, but she’d completely failed as her mouth hung open. I’m pretty sure she left a nose print on the driver’s side window. “This must be Izzy’s car. I see a tube of lipstick in the cup holder.”