Scones and Tombstones: Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Mitzy Moon Mysteries Book 20) by Trixie Silvertale

Author:Trixie Silvertale [Silvertale, Trixie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781952739200
Publisher: Sittin' On A Goldmine Productions LLC
Published: 2022-09-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

When I approach the bookshop on the corner of First Avenue and Main Street, I grab the handle on the ornately carved front door and pause. Life seems to chug along at quite a clip, and most days I don’t bother to stop and admire this beautiful piece of artwork that serves as the entrance to my store.

Today, I pause and smile as my eyes drift over the thick wooden door, intricately carved with whimsical vignettes, such as: a centaur chasing a maiden through delicate woodland; a faun playing a flute for a family of rabbits dancing around his cloven feet; the shadow of a winged horse passing in front of the moon; a wildcat stalking a small boy—a cat who bears a striking resemblance to Pyewacket.

After giving the beautiful piece its due, I pull the handle. The door does not budge.

Weird. It’s technically during business hours.

A quick glance to my left reveals Twiggy’s well-worn sign taped in the window. “Closed for Collection Trip.” In classic Twiggy fashion, there are no details regarding when she will return or when the bookshop will reopen. Fortunately, my grandmother left me a healthy inheritance, and I’m not required to rely on book sales to fund my mediocre lifestyle.

Not mediocre in the sense that I don’t enjoy it. Merely in the sense that it’s pretty ordinary most days. I’m not prone to extravagance. Unlike my predecessor, Myrtle Isadora!

Of course, the reason I have no need to purchase luxury items is that she pre-purchased everything a girl like me could ever dream of needing. She must have had some pretty darn accurate premonitions about me before she crossed over.

I pull out the triangular-barreled brass key dangling on the chain beneath my T-shirt and feel its heft in my hand. Sliding the key into the lock, I twist it three times and bask in the harmonious sensation that courses through my fingers toward my heart.

There is something symbiotic between this bookstore and me. Maybe it’s the energy of my grandmother’s ghost that somehow lives within the walls, or maybe it’s something even more supernatural that I have yet to discover. Either way, it’s comforting and welcoming.

Since we seem to be closed, I secure the door behind myself.

Sensing another presence in the bookshop, I creep up the circular stairs and peer into the Rare Books Loft. Nothing could have prepared me for the tableau.

“What in the Shadowhunters is going on?” The oak reading tables and brass lamps, with their delicate green-glass shades, have all been moved into the narrow curving arms of the mezzanine. In the main area, where the tables usually reside, the thick Persian carpets have been carefully rolled back to reveal a dark hardwood floor with an enormous pentacle carved into its surface.

Silas finishes rolling the final carpet, stands, and dusts off his hands as though he’s simply planted a row of potatoes. “Ah, at last. We have much to discuss.”

“Ya think? What exactly am I looking at, Silas?”

“The large symbol is a pentacle.

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