Poltergeists and Potions (Mystic Mountain Ghost Mysteries Book 2) by Annie Mooney

Author:Annie Mooney [Mooney, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Fourteen

I bid my family goodbye and left Francine’s property, the bright stars in the clear black sky spreading above Mystic Mountain as I drove home. I felt as if I were driving through a dream, my own visions and impressions swirling around me like a tornado.

I made it back to the Mystic Mountain Inn in a daze, parked my jeep in the garage, and went inside. Bone-weary, I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom and kicked off my shoes. Charlotte was waiting for me on the bed, curled up in a black circle on my pillow. She raised her head and looked at me, blinking her glowing green eyes. “Francine’s mother, Constance, must have been protecting Noel from a dangerous person,” she said.

“I wish I knew who it was. It makes me feel like I need to summon Constance to the apothecary.”

“Hilda is terrified of the poltergeists,” Charlotte said as I sat beside her on the bed. “And you want to summon another spirit to the apothecary?” I stroked her spectral black fur, and she purred under my fingertips.

“I need answers. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere.” I pulled off my clothes and put on my pajamas, climbing under the blankets to sleep. That night, I had the strangest dream. I was standing in a mine shaft, looking down into the darkness of the pit. There was something so malevolent in the dark, something eviler and more unspeakable than words. I woke with a start to the sound of banging and shouting.

I flung the blankets off myself. When my feet hit the floor, I shoved them into my slippers. After pulling on my bathrobe, I tied it around my waist and hurried down the stairs. In the kitchen, I looked out the window onto the street. There were police cars all around, their red and blue lights flashing in the morning air. I glimpsed Bartholomew and rushed to the front door. I ran down the walkway toward him, meeting him on the street. “What’s happening?” I asked.

“We got a positive ID on the room service attendant, Timothy Baker. We’ve arrested him.”

We circled around to the front of the inn. Uniformed police officers had a gangly young man with shaggy brown hair handcuffed. He struggled against them as they guided him down the stairs to a waiting police car. I covered my mouth with my hand. The young man looked exactly like Marcia’s drawing.

“That’s him,” I muttered. Bartholomew looked over at me, raising an eyebrow. “You and your cousin have talent. You’ve been indispensable ever since you arrived in Mystic Mountain.”

The young man shouted as an officer pressed a hand to his head and guided him into the back of the police cruiser. “I didn’t do anything. It’s a misunderstanding. A mistake.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself in the cool morning air. “Do you have enough evidence to make a conviction?” I asked, looking up at Bartholomew. His warm brown eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight, and his strong jaw was covered in stubble.

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