Get Ogre Yourself: A paranormal mystery adventure (Monsters of Jellyfish Beach Book 3) by Ward Parker

Author:Ward Parker [Parker, Ward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mad Mangrove Media
Published: 2023-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

The next day, my phone rang.

“Mindle? Detective Shortle here. It’s a mess out there.”

“Good morning. I’m fine, thanks. And how are you?”

“Those defilements keep popping up everywhere. I’ve warned all the houses of worship about the weird altars, and they’ve been removing them, but it happens at nearly every service. The faith leaders are complaining straight to the chief and the mayor.”

“I’m doing all I can. I will place wards at every church, assembly hall, synagogue, and mosque. Even the Hindu temple in the next town.”

Working on this problem with Shortle required me to divulge more than I would have liked about my witchy abilities. She hadn’t questioned me. She was too desperate to end the problem. And to her, the defilements were about vandalism and the resulting public-relations headaches. She clearly didn't buy the notion that people could lose their souls.

“We've increased our patrols,” she said, “but we don’t have enough officers to guard every house of worship at every service. And we have no clues of who the perpetrators are. The security footage never shows them. Those altars just magically appear.”

I couldn't explain to her about the imp. No talking to the police about supernatural creatures.

“I’ll continue to do everything I can,” I said.

Finding Angela, however, was my priority. If only I could find a way to do it.

In the meantime, I once again gathered my supernatural "brain trust." The ghost of a wizard who had died 400 years ago and a green iguana. They were the best minds I had.

“Who can tell me how to catch an imp?” I asked.

“Why the heck would you want to do that?” Tony asked. “And where would you keep it? It’s not going in the garage with me.”

“I’m not going to keep it. I’ll catalog it for the Friends of Cryptids and somehow send it far from Jellyfish Beach.”

“Catching an imp sounds like something a black-magic sorcerer or a necromancer would do,” Don Mateo said. “Not my cup of tea.”

My brain trust wasn't living up to its name.

“Has this imp been manifesting in spirit or material form?” Tony asked.

I explained it was physical enough to set up the altars but didn’t appear on video and could make itself disappear instantly.

Tony thoughtfully scratched his chin with his claw.

“Can you get a dreamcatcher?”

“I think there’s one for sale in the botanica.”

“Bring it home, and we’ll do the necessary modifications.”

The dreamcatcher was Native American and hung on the wall above the crystals in the section of the botanica dedicated to Wicca and witchcraft. I brought it home the next day.

It was an intricately woven net, framed by a circular hoop of polished wood. Groupings of various types of feathers and beads hung from the hoop. A dreamcatcher does exactly what you’d think: catch bad dreams and evil spirits so they don’t trouble you.

Somehow, we were going to make it catch a bad little imp.

“It seems awfully fragile,” I said.

“The magic you put in it will be strong,” Tony said. “Like you.”

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