Haunted Hobgoblin (Cloverville Mystery Series Book 3) by M.J. Waverly

Author:M.J. Waverly [Waverly, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Once dressed, I checked my phone. I had two text messages.

The first one was from Uncle Joe. Meet me at the Chapman Coven House as soon as possible. The second message was from Jason. Meet me at the Chapman Coven House.

Yep. I sighed in frustration. When Emma made her introductions, she must have upset Hortense. This would delay me searching Nana’s house.

On my drive to the Chapman Coven House, I drove past the area known as Tent City in Cloverville. With the weather growing colder, the homeless sheltered in tents in a field near the railroad tracks under a bridge. I’d seen a lot homeless in California, but at least the weather was warm there. It would get cold as winter grew closer.

I drove another ten miles and then turned onto Wickersham Road. The hairs on my neck lifted .

From out of the woods, a skeleton dressed in Revolutionary War garb riding on a large black horse followed by three black dogs with green glowing eyes crossed the road.

Not this guy, again.

I slammed on my brakes.

The rider stopped. He lifted his tricorn hat, and then bowed his head.

“We’ll meet soon, Sidney Latimer.” A deep voice echoed in my mind.

My skin grew cold as I gripped the steering wheel. The skeletal horseman followed by his dogs and disappeared into the woods on the other side.

Who was this ghost and his dogs? Descendants of the Chapmans? An associate of the Blood Collector?

I took in several deep calming breaths and continued on. The spooky old house loomed ahead. I drove past the circular driveway where three sheriff’s cars were parked. I drove onto the main lot. My internal alarm system sounding like a claxon.

I slipped my wand inside the long sleeve of my shirt, and then stepped out of my truck. The crunching of tires on gravel alerted me to an oncoming car. I turned. Jason’s green Astro van pulled in next to me.

Jason, Todd, and Cyrus exited the van, carrying camera equipment.

Uncle Joe rushed over to us. “Sidney, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Uncle Joe grimaced. “The thunder and lightning special effects keep booming and flashing in the Zombie Mayhem scare area. The others think it’s a technical problem, but I think it’s connected with the hobgoblin. Do you think you can talk to it?

“The first eighteen episodes of Zombietown are excellent, but the writing went downhill after that, sort of like what happened with Game of Thrones, Cyrus said from somewhere near by.

Because I didn’t write them.

Part of me wanted to reveal my connection to Zombietown to my uncle. To Jason. To my sisters. To my family. It would be so good to confess to someone how I wrote the popular television series, and how Camden betrayed me by stealing and claiming my work.

“We thought we might film some of the other scare sets. See if we pick up something,” Jason tugged at his shirt collar. “We’ll stay away from the crime scene areas.”

Uncle Joe frowned. “Hold on.”

Todd and Cyrus hung back, clutching camera equipment, EMF monitors, and other ghost hunting equipment.

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