“There you are, Janet!” Mallory said. “Room 233 phoned the front desk and said they’re in need of clean towels and soap! What happened?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Vianu,” Janet said. “I told them I’d be right back with some, but I got sidetracked by one of the other guests! And get this, someone swiped my keys to the supply room so I couldn’t get any myself. I’ve been up here searching for Lizzy to borrow the front desk set but she’s not answering her phone,” the housekeeper exclaimed and took the cart’s handles from Mallory. “I’ll deal with this right away.”
Mallory nodded her head, feeling bad for the tone she’d used on the poor girl.
She took some deep breaths and headed for the staircase, only she got sidetracked by the open door to one of the empty guestrooms—Sylvia’s. It was the one with the broken window. Mallory peeked inside, suddenly worried that she’d found where the receptionist had disappeared to but it was empty. She walked to the window to look outside for Kaden’s car and accidently knocked the cardboard loose. Dang it! Now they’d have birds flying in, making even more work for them. She attempted to re-attach the tape that kept the cardboard in place, but her mind and fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Lizzy was obviously the girlfriend she’d suspected Edwin had. She’d killed Sylvia just to get the Grimoire.
But why kill Edwin? It looked like she’d done all of this to be with him. Had she confessed to killing Sylvia and he’d rejected her? Why the athame? Did she think she needed it to use the Grimoire? Was she just a murdering thief? The questions were burning up her brain.
She didn’t know exactly what made her take out the photo. Maybe she wanted to be sure that what she’d seen was real. Maybe she was just nervous and a little scared.
Whatever the reason, Mallory was standing by the window looking at the picture when the door slammed shut. When Mallory turned around, there stood Lizzy Hubbard.
With a shaking hand, Mallory put the picture back in her pocket and stared at her.
“Why, Malhala, you’ve been snooping in my purse,” she accused.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“That picture belongs to me.”
Mallory took a deep, steadying breath. How did she know what she was looking at?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me. I want that picture back now!”
“I don’t know what picture you’re talking about,” Mallory said with a smile. “Let’s go grab a cappuccino and a scone from the kitchen.”
“Do you always root threw your employee’s bags or am I special?”
How had the picture gotten from her purse to the supply closet downstairs? Obviously, she didn’t realize it had fallen out. “I swear I didn’t.”
“Lying comes so naturally to your forked tongue, doesn’t it? You stole my picture–just like they did our Bible. You witches are all the same. No honor. That house was ours and everything in it! Malleus Maleficarum belongs to the Witch Hunting Order and we will have it back.”
“Malleus Maleficarum… The Witches' Hammer, right? Maybe you should call the police,” Mallory said, testing her. “Maybe they could sort it all out.”
“You’d like that wouldn’t you? No, I think your local BLPD has been corrupted. Bewitched by you and your kind. Just like Edwin. Poor, poor Edwin. Tell me, what sort of incantation did you use to persuade him? Was it you or one of your coven?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lizzy.”
“Yes. You do. Edwin was going to betray the order. He was going to tell the world about us.”
“You killed Edwin—one of your own?”
“He was a traitor.” Lizzy defended. “He let that seductress, Sylvia, beguile him—telling him she’d lied about having our book. Why would she say she had the book if she didn’t? She was just trying to keep it from us. Everyone is always trying to take what is ours.”
“I heard that she said she knew where it was—not that she had it. Perhaps, she was lying.”
“Semantics, Malhala. I have a list you know, and you’re on it.”
“What about Willa? Is she one of you?”
This made Lizzy hysterical with laughter. “One of us? Hardly.”
“Well, where is she, then?” Mallory asked, beginning to panic. “Is she dead?”
“She’s next on the list. That’s where she is.”
“What did she do to get on your list?”
“You mean besides the fact that she’s one of the devil’s playthings. She tried to curse me with a spell from Sylvia’s book.”
“She walked in on you killing Edwin, didn’t she?”
Lizzie smiled. “You know she was supposed to be ahead of you on the list but I think I may just have to make an exception this time. You know any good spells for flight, witch? These old houses are dangerous.”
Before Mallory could react, Lizzy launched herself at her. Mallory tried to move out of the way, but Lizzie was faster–fingernails curved like claws. All she could feel was the tearing of her skin, the thump of the broken window frame against her shoulder, and the swirl of empty air as she tumbled over the sill and onto the Juliet balcony, rolling to a stop against the cold iron railing that would only have reached her knees had she been standing.
But she didn’t dare stand up. Lizzy would have thrown her over in a heartbeat. Instead she charged, tackling Lizzy around the waist from a crouching position, attempting to push them both back inside. The glass that remained in the top of the wood frame began shattering, spraying them both with slivers.
That would hurt later, but glass was better than splatter soup. Mallory sure didn’t want to fall and the Caravan Manor didn’t need Lizzy falling from the second floor, either.
Then, it was as if a cold wind pulled Lizzy the rest of the way through the window. She flew across the room and smacked into the sturdy wall near the closet. She dropped to the floor like a broken doll.
Mallory climbed back inside. That had been no ordinary wind–even before Balthasar appeared, staring down at Lizzy.
“Must I do everything for ye, girl? Was it not enough that I stole that picture so ye could find it? Then ye go and rub it in her face without first showing the proper authorities.”
“I didn’t know she was there.” Mallory could barely speak after that brief but fierce fight for her life. “Anyway, I thought you were gone.”
“Without fulfilling my end of the bargain? Malhala, I am many things, but my word is my bond. I promised ye something in exchange for proving my descendant’s innocence.”
“Well, thank you. Consider me paid in full. I’m sorry for what happened to you and your wife. The boy you saved, Thomas Hobart, was responsible for your deaths.”
Balthasar nodded. “Bah! This is not yer payment. Meet me outside tonight once ye’ve dealt with this matter. It must be before midnight. I’ll guide ye to the missing piece. Then I’m gone from this world.”
He disappeared again. The cold wind went with him. Lizzy groaned and started to move.
Mallory forced herself to find her phone and called Kaden.
THIRTY EIGHT
T he rain had stopped at last, but the air was still cool as the winds blew in off the lake. Mallory and her mother waited arm-in-arm for Balthasar to appear. Mallory didn’t know why but she’d felt compelled to bring Jilli along.
“Are you sure your friendly little witch hunting ghost meant tonight?” Jillian stomped her feet and blew on her hands.
“Yes. But maybe time works differently for him. Let’s give him five more minutes. I’d really like to find out what it is he has in store for us.”
Jilli cleared her throat and smiled. “I suppose so.”
A minute later, Balthasar’s ghost appeared.
“He’s here,” Mallory told Jilli. “I wish you could see him.”
“Just have him tell you where to go.”
“I see ye didn’t come alone,” Balthasar snickered. “Aye, ye talk a good fight, but ye lack the back
bone, girl. That’s just as well. Get in yer buggy and follow closely.”
Mallory told Jilli what Balthasar had said. They climbed into Mallory’s new jeep and were able to follow Balthasar only because Mallory could see a dim fluorescence around him. He floated right at the front of the hood and kept them going straight in the night.
The jeep’s headlights played shadows with the dark, puddled roads.
Mallory pulled her black leather jacket more tightly around her and hit the heated steering wheel button. Her fingers felt numb with cold. Silly, fashionable fingerless gloves were quite useless at times like this.
Balthasar’s form stopped when they came to the end of the lake road. He was pointing to the right—away from Bohemian Lake. So, Mallory made the turn.
“Why are we going this way?” Jilli asked. “What could possibly be in the next town that pertains to us.”
Mallory shook her head but followed his instruction.
“I can’t stay past the witching hour.” Balthasar was suddenly seated in the backseat. “Ye’ll have to hurry, or we won’t make it in time.”
Mallory looked at the time on her dash. It had taken them forty minutes to get this far. It was slow going with the wind against them. The headlights illuminated the immediate road in front of them, but they also reflected off the mist and at times Mallory felt like she was driving through an all-encompassing cloud.
Jilli was skeptical when Mallory told her what Balthasar had said. “You’re sure about this, Mal? This witch hunter isn’t leading us to our death, is he? We are witches, after all.”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t have to save my life or come back. He wanted to keep his word. We’ll be fine. It shouldn’t be too much further.”
There were no streetlights–not even any lights from houses. Just fields and forests, every now and then dim shapes of fences and trees loomed up out of the fog.
“Turn here,” Balthasar said, pushing his head into the front between the seats. “There’s a large brick building and ye’ll need to go inside.”
Mallory did as he said, glancing over her shoulder as she slowed. “Thank you, by the way, for saving my life. I thought Lizzy was going to throw me from the manor.”
“Don’t be daft! Ye’re a strapping girl. Ye were just afraid to do what needed to be done.”
“What was that?”
“Why, throw her off instead. Here we are.”
Mallory cut the engine. “The fog is so thick. Where are we exactly?”
He laughed. “My dear girl! However would I know what yer buildings are for?”
Mallory opened her door, wondering what was in store for them. “So just go inside then? Will you be coming with us?”
“Blast if I know. There aren’t any rule books for this. One-minute ye’re dead and the next ye don’t know where ye are.”
A sign came into view, and Mallory jumped at the realization. “This is a hospital.” She looked over at her mother just as a set of automated doors opened.
“What on earth are we doing here?” Jilli echoed Mal’s thought.
Balthasar floated before her with a kind of glowing light. “This way. Follow me. We need to go up there.” He pointed to a window barely visible through the fog.
“The third floor?” Mallory asked. “Balthasar, it’s definitely past visiting hours. The staff will never let us into someone’s room. Is that where we’re going? Is there someone in there?”
“Trust me. I’ve timed it exactly right.”
Mallory looked from Balthasar to her mother and nodded.
Lucky for them, there was no one around when they entered.
“Quick, this way.”
They rode in silence up to the third floor. Balthasar still present.
Mallory wished she knew who or what they would find but the ghost was a vault when it came to secrets.
“What will you do once you show us the place?” Mallory asked as the doors opened.
“I’ll finally go home to my wife. She’s promised to come and get me.”
“Why didn’t Rebekah come already?”
“She couldn’t. I had to make amends for my sins,” he said. “But after this, I am free to join her in the light.”
“I’m happy for you.” As Mallory said the words, a door came in to view, the nurse’s station was empty, but she could hear voices from around the corner. Someone was returning.
“Quick. In here,” Balthasar said. “And good luck to ye, Malhala. I hope this brings you peace. Say farewell to Sera for me.” He looked into her eyes and faded away, like a rainbow that was there and then gone.
Mallory turned her gaze back to her mother and sighed, “he’s gone.” Then she pushed the door open.
Before Mallory even got the chance to process who lay in the hospital bed, Jilli began to cry—a loud and gut-wrenching sob. “Mama! What is it?”
But she didn’t need her to answer. When she looked at the bed, she recognized her father.
Barely. He’d aged beyond what should have been possible but there he was.
“Marco!” Jilli shouted and ran to the unconscious man’s side.
Epilogue
J illi’s sobs drew the attention of the nurse, who berated both her and Mallory for sneaking in after hours. She became a little more understanding when they explained who they were. Happy to finally uncover the mystery of their John Doe.
They returned the next day with Nana and Danior to visit him and the nurse told them the story of how he’d come to them and remained in a coma ever since. Mal removed her dad’s watch and buckled it onto his wrist, wishing in some small way to connect and reach him. After talking it through, Mallory realized that the spirit ball who kept visiting her—the one too weak to communicate—was in fact her father just as she’d suspected.
He still hadn’t woken but they hoped bringing him home to the manor would remedy that.
Meanwhile, the Bohemian Lake Police had arrested Lizzy and charged her with two counts of murder. They’d found the three diary pages in Lizzy’s room along with a list of intended victims. So far, Lizzy had only admitted to killing Sylvia and Edwin. Poor Willa was still missing but they were working hard to find her—rumor was the FBI was involved. Despite her loose tongue earlier with Mallory, Lizzy was now currently denying the existence of any such witch hunting order, but keeping that photo of her and Edwin had sealed her fate and Kaden said it was only a matter of time before she broke and sold them all out.
Now that life was getting back to normal, Mallory took a break and headed to Kaden’s for dinner. He made perogies and chicken, and Mallory brought one of Danior’s strawberry desserts. When dinner was over, they decided to have a coffee liqueur on the front porch.
They were sitting together on the swing, Kaden’s arm around her waist, congratulating themselves on excellent detective work when Mallory felt him stiffen. She looked up and saw the reason—a woman was coming up the front walk. She was tall and fair like a porcelain doll. The complete opposite of Mallory.
“Kaden,” she said when she’d reached them. She put her hand on his arm and smiled. “I’m so glad I found you. I’ve missed you so much.”
He didn’t say anything for a whole minute, though he finally managed to cover his shock with a pleasant expression.
Mallory knew that look–it was one people use to hide their true feelings.
“Dawn!” Surprised was a mild way to describe how he sounded. “What are you doing here?”
“Karen called me.”
“Karen?”
“My cousin. Karen Fleur. Can we go somewhere and talk?” She glared at Mallory. “Alone.”
He looked over at Mallory. “You remember I mentioned Dawn.”
Mallory did remember. She was his ex-partner with the FBI. Mal shook her hand and smiled despite the cold feeling of foreboding that overtook her. Why hadn’t he introduced Mallory as his girlfriend? Maybe it was just too awkward right now.
“Hello. Nice to meet you,” she said. “I think
our sweet, tongue-tied Kaden here has forgotten his manners. The name’s Donna… Bones. I’m Kaden’s wife.”
Thanks for reading Ouija, Death & Wicked Witchery. Keep reading for a taste of the next Haunted House Flippers book: Crème Eggs, Corpses and the Farmhouse Fixer. Releasing Easter 2019.
ONE
J uniper Palmer-Young glowered at the gadgets on her new farmhouse kitchen counter and cursed Jack for buying them-—a wireless meat thermometer, a marble rolling pin, and a bright red mixer set with a stunning array of attachments. These things were a puzzle in need of solving.
Perhaps if Juniper were more comfortable with a carving knife than a carpenter’s knife, holidays wouldn’t be so daunting, but she was all contractor and no cook, and she was running out of time to prepare Easter dinner. She typed roasted rack of lamb into the search bar of her tablet and skimmed over the recipe’s directions. Move oven rack to center position.
Huh? Ovens could change positions—what, were they transformers, or something? She decided to look up the desert recipe instead but lost interest at the buttercream frosting. These might as well have been in another language. Unfortunately, it was her and Jack’s turn to host the holiday dinner and in addition to Jack’s massive family, her own mother and sister would be flying in from New York.
She slid the rack of lamb across the counter and dumped it into the kitchen’s farmhouse sink to thaw, hoping for the best. Maybe, Jack would know what to do with it after that, and if not, maybe she could borrow Finn Valentine. She glanced at her cell phone on the counter and debated calling her head chef for help. 911. Emergency dinner services. No, he’d be busy managing the lunch rush at the Gothic Inn right now and besides he had Pike and the new baby to cook for. It would be their first Easter as new parents She wasn’t that selfish… or was she? She inched closer to the phone, the temptation to wave the white flag growing stronger. The last thing she wanted to do was give her family food poisoning. Then again, maybe they’d leave quicker that way. No, that was awful. She wanted them to stay, she loved them and the family had been so close at one time. Then her parents had split up, and while Juniper had stayed close to her father—a fellow construction man—her sister, had sided with their mother.
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