Supernatural Psychic Mysteries: Four Book Boxed Set: (Misty Sales Cozy Mystery Suspense series)

by Morgana Best

  “I really don’t care. Shoot him then. See if I care.”

  “I’m not bluffing.”

  I shrugged. “Do what you have to do. It won’t work this time.”

  I wondered why small beads of sweat were forming on Douglas’s forehead. Either he was a very good actor, or he was wondering how far Gerald would carry this charade.

  “I won’t shoot him. I’ll sacrifice you both to the malingee.” Gerald broke off and nodded at me. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate two.”

  Gerald walked toward me and I backed behind the big stone altar. I tried to buy time. “Have you been sacrificing to the malingee?” I asked.

  “Not in worship if that’s what you mean. My family bound this malingee generations ago. We feed it with blood sacrifice.”

  I kept trying to stall. “So your family has lived in this town for what, a hundred years or so?”

  Gerald nodded, but kept advancing at me slowly. I in turn kept backing away from him around the stone altar. “The malingee will kill anyone who gets in our way. My family’s been involved in insider trading and stock manipulation since 1898. If anyone gets too close to what we’re doing, we call on the malingee to kill them.”

  “See, I told you I wasn’t involved,” Douglas said.

  I shot him a withering look.

  “Anyway, I have to summon the malingee now.” Gerald looked at my puzzled face. “Did you think I actually make the sacrifices myself? Do you think I’m insane? I just get people here for the malingee; he kills them. That British tourist was asking too many questions, so I got the malingee to kill him, and then I threw his body over the cliff.”

  I was at once somewhat relieved that Gerald himself had not done the killing. My situation was still grim, but had improved slightly and for that I was grateful. I had a better chance with the creature than with Gerald’s gun.

  Gerald moved to the altar against the wall, still pointing the gun at me. He started a strange chanting which soon had the whole room vibrating, albeit imperceptibly. I looked at the ceiling and wondered again at the strange symbols there, and on the floor as well as the walls. I figured that these were wards to keep the creature contained within this room, once it was summoned.

  I could now feel the presence of the malingee looming. There was a noise like stone grating against stone, the terrifying sound of its stone knees advancing.

  “Excuse me, won’t you? I don’t want to be here when it comes.”

  Gerald backed up the stairs, holding the gun in front of him. The door slammed. I heard the lock click, and then the light went out.

  I could still see, but the room was dim.

  “Misty, untie me, fast.”

  “There’s no time, Douglas.”

  “Misty...”

  “Quiet, Douglas,” I snapped. “I have to concentrate, but you will have to be quiet. Do you understand?”

  Douglas nodded.

  I sat on the floor next to the stone altar with my back against the cold, stone wall. I could feel the ground rumbling as the thing approached, but I could not let that rush me. I took a deep breath, and calmed my breathing.

  Keep calm, keep calm, I kept saying to myself as a mantra.

  Suddenly, in front of me, the malingee appeared. I shot a glance at Douglas, but it appeared that he couldn’t see it.

  The malingee was at once in front of me, and clutching at my throat. As its fingers reached my neck, I turned my head to avoid its foul breath. What to do now? I not only had to make sure that it didn’t harm me; I had to make sure that I broke Gerald’s hold on it. But how?

  What did I know about it? Douglas wanted the creature’s name so the Black Lodge could control it. Therefore Gerald was controlling it by its name. “What is your name?” I asked it. “Tell me, and I’ll release you.”

  For a moment, nothing happened, and the malingee loomed over me. I fought back rising panic. I held my breath, until it whispered, “Djarraba.”

  I wasted no time. “Djarraba, I command you to break free of the bonds that Gerald Wakefield’s family has put on you and I command you never to be bound again by anyone.” I hoped like crazy that would work. I was careful to whisper his name so Douglas could not hear.

  The malingee reeled back, and then lurched from side to side, trying to gain its balance. Before my eyes, it started changing shape. The grotesque, distorted face changed and became an ageless face of intense and ancient power. It changed from an ugly, misshapen form into a stone-like form pulsating with energy.

  The malingee walked over to me, its stone knees making an ominous sound. It said, “Thank you, Misty Sales,” and vanished.

  I felt nauseous for a moment but then it passed. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it.

  “Misty, what happened?” Douglas’s tone was urgent.

  I walked over to him and looked at him. Should I untie him? What if he was working with Gerald?

  “What happened?” he asked again.

  I shrugged. “I can’t explain it,” I said, meeting his gaze, “but the creature won’t be back.”

  “Untie me?” His voice came out pleadingly.

  I thought hard. If Gerald and his gun came back, I had no hope of fending him off by myself. But if Douglas was working for him, it was a choice between two evils.

  I sighed, and starting tugging at the knots in the ropes around his wrists. “Douglas, I swear, you had better not be on his side.”

  Douglas at once mumbled protests, but I wasn’t listening. I undid his ropes, quite a feat considering my fingers were numb from fear. When his wrist ropes were released, he untied the ropes from his feet. At the same time, the light came on, alerting us to the fact that Gerald was about to come back down the stairs.

  “What will we do?” My voice was the faintest of whispers.

  “Hide. He might think that the creature has taken you. I’ll sit back down and loop the ropes around my feet. If he gets close to me, well, don’t worry, I’ll deal with him.”

  I ran and hid under the stairs, still not sure that Douglas was to be trusted.

  Sure enough, I heard the click at the door, signaling Gerald’s appearance. I crouched in the darkness under the stairs, softly brushing cobwebs out of my way.

  I couldn’t see Gerald until he walked half way across the room to Douglas. He was still waving his gun around. “Where is she?” For the first time, a hint of doubt had crept into his voice.

  “Vanished,” Douglas groaned. I almost smiled; he was doing a superb acting job. He was slumping, and his voice came out as if terrified, as if he’d seen something unspeakably evil.

  Gerald lowered the gun. “You mean vanished from the room? Speak up man! I can’t hear you.”

  He moved closer to Douglas and bent over him. “Speak I say! Do you mean she disappeared from the room?”

  Douglas acted so fast that even I jumped. I heard a gun shot, but the two men were still fighting, so I assumed neither had been shot. It was over quite fast: Douglas was standing over Gerald, holding Gerald’s gun. Gerald was out cold, sprawled all over the floor.

  I crept from my hiding place just as three men hurried down the stairs. To my enormous relief, they were Jamie, Bill, and Ben.

  Jamie ran over to me, his face white and filled with concern. “Misty, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. That man on the ground tried to kill me.”

  Bill and Ben pulled Gerald to his feet; he was still out cold. I had thought him a slender, wiry man, but the two of them had trouble carrying him up the stairs.

  It was then that I looked down, and noticed that Jamie had a gun. I don’t know why it surprised me, perhaps as I’d never seen him with a gun before. It was a big gun. “Jamie, your gun is bigger than Douglas’s,” I said.

  Jamie and Douglas looked at each other, and then Jamie hit Douglas. He planted one firmly right on his jaw. Douglas flew backwards, and lay sprawled on the floor right where Gerald had landed.

  “She’s never seen my gun,” Douglas muttered we
akly. “Honest,” he added pathetically.

  Jamie made an explosive sound of exasperation. “That is for putting Misty in danger, you despicable coward,” he spat. “If you ever put Misty in danger again, well, you won’t get off so easily. And that’s no idle threat, I promise you.”

  An angry Jamie took me by the arm, and helped me up the stairs and out of the house to his car. Bill and Ben had already left, presumably with Gerald. “What will happen to Douglas?”

  “Who cares?” Jamie said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  For some reason, I suddenly thought of Brandon. “Oh Jamie, what about Brandon? Has he come home?”

  “Yes. I had a long talk with him.”

  I was at once dismayed. “Oh no! Is he okay?”

  Jamie chuckled. “Let’s just say I promised to set him up with a colleague of mine. Turns out Brandon dated my colleague once before, but then thought he’d stood him up. I was able to share that he’d left early for an assignment, and smoothed it all out. Brandon seems quite happy now. Turns out he’s a bit fickle. Plus I assured him that I if was gay, he’d be the type of guy I’d go for.”

  I gave Jamie a long, hard look, and then I smiled. I was content. The Black Lodge had been thwarted. They did not know the malingee’s name and wouldn’t be able to find out, not after what I had done. I still had to find out about The Orpheans, but at least now I knew their name. Things were looking up.

  At that very moment, as if on cue to steal my happiness, the Sherwood Forest text tone sounded.

  Caller: Blocked Sender. All is not what it seems. Beware. Trust no one.

  * * * The End * * *

  Book 4

  A Plot for Murder

  Chapter 1

  I was sitting at my desk, trying my hardest to look as if I were working. In reality, I was on Pinterest. The sad fact of the matter was that no one could simply pretend to work if they were a magazine journalist and didn’t have an assignment. What could I possibly do? That was something that my boss, Skinny Troll, didn’t seem to understand.

  Skinny only occasionally doled out stories to me, and the situation was now worse as she had recently cut my hours. This in itself was both a blessing and a curse. It was nice not to have to pretend to work so often, because if Skinny caught me messing around on the internet, she would yell and tell me to get to work, even though there was no work to get to. The problem was that fewer hours meant less money.

  That last problem had worked itself out, however, because I actually had gotten another job. A secret job, a job so strange and thrilling that it almost made me feel as if I were living in a movie. I was paid a monthly stipend by a covert British government organization, on the condition that I would investigate various paranormal happenings. I had only been given one job so far, but the money kept on coming.

  And then there was The Orpheans. I was the Keeper of The Orpheans, despite the fact I had no idea what they were, or even what The Keeper did. I figured that The Orpheans were a shady organization with their fingers firmly in the occult and paranormal worlds. No one from The Orpheans had as yet contacted me.

  “Misty, if it’s not too hard for you to stand up, come in here. Bring Tweedle Dum, too,” a strident voice called out. The voice was high-pitched and grating. Skinny. My storage cupboard, or ‘office’ as Skinny called it, was close to her office, too close.

  “Coming,” I said, careful not to sound too hateful. I needed my job, if only to serve as a cover for my work with the paranormal. I knew how crazy that sounded, but it was my new life, and I had quickly adapted to it. The money helped.

  Besides, I worked at a paranormal magazine, and a sensationalist one at that. Skinny’s motto was, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.” Skinny once sent me to write a whole article about a dog who had saved her owner from drowning in a flash flood. A pretty remarkable thing, in and of itself, but Skinny had been determined to turn it into a paranormal news flash. “Surely it was a case of possession,” she had said in the newsroom. “A dog wouldn’t do that, but a dog, possessed by someone’s grandfather, or dead lover—now that’s the real story.”

  And so it had been written that way, and Skinny had loved the article. I had no idea of the mag’s readership. Who could be that gullible? Still, I thought of the shared post I’d seen all over Facebook that morning, warning people not to eat bread any more as it contained H2O. Sigh. Facebook has a lot to answer for.

  Melissa was my best friend and coworker. Skinny called us Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, and that was when she was in a good mood.

  “Hey, the evil witch wants us,” I said, as I stopped in the doorway to Melissa’s cubicle.

  “What now?” Melissa said, sighing as she pushed back from her desk. “This computer solitaire isn’t going to play itself.”

  “Must be nice to be back here in the corner, with an office to yourself.” My voice held an unmistakable note of jealousy.

  “Oh, it is,” Melissa said as she smiled and stood. “It’s so wonderful.”

  “I don’t know why I’m not Skinny’s favorite.”

  “You’re my favorite,” Melissa said. “Why should you be anyone else’s?”

  “Well then, because I might get an office that isn’t a tiny storage room with a desk crammed in behind the door,” I said, as we made our way toward our boss’s office.

  Skinny sat behind her desk, as she usually did all day. She was a busy woman, being the editor of the magazine, and so while we had a lot of complaints about her, being lazy wasn’t one of them. Skinny worked. She worked a lot. Her hours were long, and she expected everyone else to work just as long.

  Her office was filled with ridiculous looking knick knacks. Little figurines of unicorns were scattered on one shelf of the bookcase that sat by the door, and a corner of her desk was taken up with old Troll dolls, with colorful, long hair and fearsome expressions. That is how we came to name her Skinny Troll.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Skinny herself was pretty, although her features were sharp and her nose a little large. She was stick thin and a bit on the tall side. She was unmarried, though there was a rumor that she had once been so, although no one had ever been able to prove this. Her nails were long and red to match her hair, her make up a bit thick, and her eyes piercing with malice.

  “I thought I heard you two thumping your way down the corridor,” Skinny said, never mind that the space outside Skinny’s office was large and open, and there was no corridor.

  Melissa and I said nothing. We were used to Skinny’s insults, though neither of us could be considered fat. Well, not overly so. Skinny often put people down. It was simply who she was. Everyone in the office hated her, but she doled out the assignments, so we had to work for her.

  I often wondered what Keith, the owner of the magazine, had been thinking with Skinny. He had hired her years ago, and despite the numerous complaints, and the number of people who had quit because of her, he never fired her. Maybe being good at your job was enough. And Skinny was very good at her job.

  “Sit!” Skinny barked, pointing to two chairs, “but be careful. The last thing I need is a broken chair in here.”

  I bit my lip and sat in one of the two chairs across the oak desk from my boss. Melissa sat in the other, and Skinny went on. “Lucas Wallace,” Skinny said, lifting a stack of papers from in front of her and tossing them across the desk. I picked up the first page, and held it out for Melissa to see. It was a picture of a good looking, middle-aged man with a warm smile. It looked as though he were on vacation, standing with others who had been cut out of the photo.

  “Lawyer, works for the government,” Skinny went on. “Real big time stuff, rich and all that. Has a boat, three homes in Sydney, five in Melbourne, a yacht, all that sort of stuff.”

  I was wondering what a government lawyer had to do with the paranormal.

  Skinny pressed on. “He went to a hotel. I’m not sure yet what he was doing there. No word on whether or not it was a vacation, if his
family was there, that sort of thing. All I have right now is that he went to this hotel, the Hydro Majestic of all places. I have some print outs from the net here, but he went to this place, and now he’s missing.”

  I took the next few pages from the stack. They were indeed print outs from the Hydro Majestic’s webpage. I had never been to the Hydro Majestic, but of course I knew its reputation. It was a magnificent hotel with a rich history, perched dramatically on the edge of a cliff in the Blue Mountains. I also knew that Australia’s first Prime Minister had died in the hotel, back in the day, and that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had stayed in the hotel, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

  “He’s missing?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Skinny said, loudly and angrily, as if I had been too slow to understand. “He checked in, never checked out. But get this, and this is where it gets interesting.”

  I knew what was coming before Skinny even said it.

  “The place is haunted,” Skinny said, a smile growing on her red lips. “Ghosts. People see them all the time there.”

  Melissa snickered, and I shot her a warning look. “The ghosts kidnap people?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t know what ghosts do,” Skinny said, her voice filled with sarcasm. “I’m not one.”

  “Maybe it’s vampires,” Melissa said with a chuckle, “not ghosts.”

  I gasped. I wouldn’t be game to say such a thing to Skinny, but I suppose Melissa felt safe as she was dating the Big Boss, Keith.

  “Maybe you should try drinking blood. As skinny as all the vampires I ever see in movies are, it might be a good diet for you,” Skinny shot back quickly, cutting painfully to the bone, as venomous and hateful as ever.

  Melissa didn’t say anything else. She just leaned back and seethed.

  “I have train tickets for you both,” Skinny said, rummaging in a drawer to her right. She pulled out a large white envelope and handed it to me.

  “When does it leave?” I asked.

  “First thing tomorrow morning,” Skinny said.

  “That’s kind of short notice isn’t it?” Melissa asked.