A Haunting Is Brewing: A Haunted Home Renovation and a Witchcraft Mystery Novella by Juliet Blackwell

Author:Juliet Blackwell [Blackwell, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Aunt Cora’s Closet was jammed with racks of dresses, tops, and skirts. Shelves were crowded with gloves, scarves, shoes, and purses. Large urns held parasols and umbrellas, and metal trees boasted hats and berets of all types. In one corner was a stand offering herbal teas and natural botanical remedies for afflictions such as sleeplessness and anxiety. A sign behind it read: AN IT HARM NONE, DO WHAT YE WILL. I recognized this as the amiable Golden Rule of the Wiccan Rede.

“How’d it go?” asked Maya, standing behind the register at the horseshoe cabinet full of jewelry, which also appeared to serve as a checkout counter. “You two figure it all out?”

“Not hardly. As much is learned, much more is confused,” said Lily with a rueful smile. “Mel, this is my other coworker here in the shop, Bronwyn.”

“What a pleasure!” Bronwyn gushed. Purple gauze fluttered out behind her as she crossed the shop floor to give me a vanilla-and-cinnamon-scented hug. “Oh my goddess! Maya’s told me all about you and the wonderful work you’re doing at Spooner House. I was so very sorry to hear about the tragedy.”

“Thank you,” I said, a bit startled but flattered by her warm welcome. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Something bumped against my legs and I jumped. I looked down to see a pig. I jumped again.

“Don’t be afraid!” said Bronwyn. “That’s our little Oscaroo. He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“It’s a . . . you have a . . . pig?”

“I told you I had a pig,” said Lily.

“I thought you were kidding. Wow, it’s a real pig. He’s so cute.”

“His name’s Oscar. He won’t relax until you fuss over him.”

I leaned down to pet the little oinker. He looked up at me with pink piggy eyes that seemed to gleam with intelligence. I couldn’t help but note that this stood in stark contrast to my own pet, a former stray named, simply, Dog. Dog had one special quality: He saw ghosts. The fact that he sensed them, as I did, made me feel less crazy, less alone when confronting spirits. But other than that, Dog wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. He wasn’t even much good at being a dog: didn’t chase balls, or fetch sticks, and he got carsick. But we loved him beyond reason.

Oscar-the-pig, for his part, seemed to be following the conversation.

“This is the dress I was thinking would be perfect for you,” said Lily as she held up a simple shift lined with fringe and tiny diagonal stripes studded by bugle beads; it looked like a cross between a flapper outfit and a go-go dress.

“You’re absolutely right. I love it!”

“Lily’s got a gift—if she says it suits you, it really does,” said Maya.

“You’re going to love it even more when you’re wearing it,” said Lily. “Want to try it on?”

“How could I refuse?”

“Hey, while we’re at it,” said Lily, “I think we should nail down our costumes for the Spooner House fund-raiser.”

I looked at her, surprised. Nothing about Spooner House lately was putting me in a party mood.

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