Phantom Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 12)

by Kennedy Layne

  How did we not know this?

  Listen here, you cheating warlock. Are you trying to tell us that there is a druid residing in this town? Do you think I wouldn’t know such a thing? What’s your angle, cheater? Spit it out!

  “Once again, I don’t cheat at poker,” Rye affirmed in offense, glaring down at Leo. “Second, we all know how powerful druids can be, and it’s only smart to steer clear of them. Agnus might be going on a hundred and two years old, but she’s as spry as any eighty-year-old who I’ve ever met. I haven’t seen her in at least three years, but her powers were as strong back then as ever.”

  If there was a druid named Agnus in these parts, don’t you think I would know about it? And don’t you dare bring up my memory blips. No one would forget a druid. So, what are you trying to pull here, card shark?

  I would have pointed out that Leo had forgotten all about a phantom being stuck in a mirror that had been shoved in the back of my linen closet, but he did have a point. My mother hadn’t once mentioned that we were within walking distance of a druid, and I’m pretty sure that she wouldn’t have kept something of that kind of importance from me.

  Tables are turned, Raven. Didn’t your mother keep you in the dark about magic for thirty years? Yeah, I thought so. Now fess up, cheater! What do you know?

  “What I know is that Agnus Ritchie helped out Rowena once many years ago, and she hasn’t spoken of it since. I suggested that maybe we could use the druid’s help with the coven war last year when Rowena was getting desperate, and I’ve never seen Rowena more opposed to anything in all my life,” Rye shared with a shake of his head. “Her reaction told me that it was best to stay far away from Agnus, and that’s what I’m going to do. I suggest you two do the same.”

  Sounds good to me. Raven, I’ve changed my mind. Remember the old saying “curiosity killed the cat”?” Well, I’m relatively sure I’m on my ninth life. We’ll sit this one out.

  Rye would have walked away, but he stopped suddenly upon hear Leo’s rather dramatized thoughts. Well, not about the druid, but about his ninth life. By my count, he was on his eighth.

  “Sit what out?” Rye asked warily, crossing his arms to indicate he was no longer in a hurry to get where he was going. “Raven, what’s going on?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I denied, attempting to do so less emphatically so that he’d believe my tale. “Like I said, I was just curious. That’s why Leo referenced that old saying. Isn’t it, Leo?”

  I need an edible, Raven. Stat.

  “You heard him,” I said to Rye with a small shrug. “Gertie always has those generic treats, so we’re off to get her tea order all taken care of. You should go browse the garage sale. There are some steals going on, let me tell you.”

  I flashed a smile as I walked past him, mentally kicking myself for rambling our way out of the conversation. Leo hadn’t been any help, and now it sounded as if he were coughing up a hairball. I would have kept walking toward the inn, but there was still one more thing that I needed to know, warning or not.

  “Rye, where could I find this Agnus?” I asked, turning around to find that he’d done the same and was watching us with suspicion. “Not that I would, but just in case.”

  If the cheater responds that the druid has a creepy cottage in the woods with a brick oven, count me out. If a one hundred and two-year-old lady scares the Wicked Witch of Windsor, that’s an ill-enough omen for me. I’ll just have to find another way to stop Skippy and his minions from going ahead with the squirrelpocalypse.

  Leo seemed to be forgetting that this current murder mystery had nothing to do with his battle against the neighborhood squirrels and everything to do with releasing Bernard’s spirit from the mirror.

  We simply couldn’t leave him trapped inside a prison without doing our best to help him.

  Speak for yourself. It’s called self-preservation.

  “Agnus doesn’t technically live inside the town limits of Paramour Bay,” Rye explained, his hesitation on revealing the information evident. His knowledge of Agnus left me to wonder how Mom hadn’t known about a druid being in such close proximity of us. Also, wouldn’t Nan have written about Agnus in some of her journals? Rye finally caved in when he realized that I wasn’t going to budge. “There’s a dirt path on the righthand side of the road about a mile west of here on the outskirts of town. It’s easy to miss, so you’ll want to look for the oak tree that seems fuller than the rest. Trust me. You can’t miss it.”

  Oh, I bet I could miss it. It’s called blinders, Raven.

  “I appreciate it, Rye.”

  “Raven?” Rye called out before I could leave. I waited patiently for whatever he was about to say, hoping he wouldn’t ask me anymore questions. “Be careful.”

  I hadn’t realized that I’d been holding my breath until Rye turned and walked away, leaving me and Leo standing in front of one of the few empty retail spaces on River Bay. Rye’s warning seemed to echo as Leo and I both began to slowly walk toward the inn.

  Let me put it to you this way, Raven. We both agree that I’m a bit hefty in the haunches. I’d also taste better than you, which is why I’ve decided that the old chap might be better off inside that mirror for all eternity. He just needs to look at his predicament as a slight inconvenience that he needs to overcome, you know?

  “Leo, what would you do if you were trapped in a mirror without any way to consume your premium organic catnip?”

  It was a simple question and one that had caused Leo to falter in his step as we finally crossed the last intersection right before the inn. We’d both agreed long ago that having our abilities meant that it came with some major responsibility. Nan had believed the same, which was why she’d begun her journey in holistic medicine.

  Leo and I happened to be very good at solving mysteries, and this particular whodunit had given us the ability to save a soul from being eternally trapped inside a hand mirror.

  We couldn’t just ignore someone in need.

  “Well?” I asked Leo after he’d taken a moment to respond. “Trapped in a mirror without the ability to enjoy your favorite minty herb that leaves you feeling—”

  I get it, Raven. It would be pure torture. It would be like residing in Hades, only worse. Which is exactly where we might end up if we decide to seek help from a druid hag, but toasted edibles are better than no edibles. I should write that down as a motivational reminder, shouldn’t I?

  Chapter Six

  “Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” Gertie exclaimed as Leo and I walked through the front door of the inn. “To what do I owe the honor?”

  It always seemed odd not to have to knock on such a beautiful door, but the inn was just like any other business in town. The old two-story Victorian house had been converted into a bed and breakfast long ago, being handed down throughout the generations of the Watson family, serving as the town’s historic inn.

  There was something nostalgic about walking through the grand entrance and being greeted by a sweet fragrance that I’d yet to ascertain the source.

  It appeared that Gertie had just taken a seat at the dining room table, having set her cane off to the side. She had a cup of hot tea in front of her, along with what looked to be a fresh plate of lemon drop cookies. I wouldn’t deny that such a treat would hit the spot on an ordinary afternoon, but I’d lost my appetite after my abrupt run-in with Rye.

  Our encounter with that card shark warlock has done the opposite for me. I figure I better consume as many edibles as possible before our souls are stuck inside that mirror with Bernard. Like I said…a fate worse than Hades itself.

  “Hi, Gertie,” I greeted, sneaking a glance to the right to see if any of the inn’s guests were milling about near the hearth. It was too warm to have a fire, but it was still a gathering place to have meetings and or to read a good book. “I heard that Rye took you into the city to pick out some subway tile for the guest bathrooms that are about to undergo renovations.”

  “He’s s
uch a nice young man,” Gertie praised, motioning for me to have a seat at the table. “I think he might be seeing someone, but he wouldn’t spill the beans on our drive into the city.”

  Yada, yada, yada. I need my edibles, Raven. Have her break out the catnip treats.

  To ensure that Gertie knew that he’d accompanied me, Leo began to purr extra loud as he rubbed against her leg to garner her attention. She immediately responded by leaning down and running a rather knobby hand over his back and up his tail.

  Considering that she was in her early nineties, she was in relatively good health.

  Nan had taught her how to make certain holistic blends to stall the aging process—without the extra magical component, of course.

  “Hello, you handsome tomcat,” Gertie greeted in a singalong voice. She squinted down at him. “My goodness, Mr. Leo. What on earth happened to your head?”

  She went from my good graces by utilizing my preferred title to being in the proverbial doghouse for pointing out one of my two embarrassing moments today. Those treats better be worth it.

  “Let’s just say that Leo had an altercation with that chickadee who has set up residence in front of the bakery,” I replied wryly, pulling out one of the highbacked Victorian chairs from the dining room table. “He could definitely use some of those treats you keep for his special visits.”

  I should have been prepared, but I failed to cover my ears when Gertie all but yelled out to Beverly to bring out the cat treats. I’m pretty sure that Leo must have dug his claws into the area rug beneath us in order not to have come off the ground from all four paws. Gertie’s screech was just how one would imagine coming from an elderly woman.

  Edibles are worth it, edibles are worth it, edibles are…

  While Leo continued his mantra in order to get through this visit, I sat back and waited for Beverly to appear. She’d been helping out Gertie around the inn for many years, keeping this place running like a well-oiled machine.

  It suddenly dawned on me that maybe she was privy to the history of the Watson family, and that maybe I should broach the subject when she appeared with Leo’s treats so that I could see both of the women’s reactions at once.

  “Good afternoon, Raven,” Beverly greeted with a smile and a plastic container in her hand. I made sure to glance at the label, wanting to make sure that the treats didn’t have the red dye in them that always caused Leo to have an asthma attack. There were only so many fires that I could put out in any given day. “Shouldn’t you be at the garage sale?”

  Don’t flub this up, Raven. Act natural.

  “Yes, but there was a little bit of a lull,” I explained, trying to choose my words wisely. Apparently, I was going a bit too slow, because even Gertie was leaning forward in anticipation. Beverly had already laid some treats in front of Leo and was waiting to hear what had brought me to the inn. “Get this. Someone mentioned there might be a buried treasure chest full of gold nuggets near the old treehouse. Heidi and I just love those types of stories, and we were wondering how such an urban legend like that got started. Seeing as everyone seemed to want to grab a bite to eat around the same time, I thought I’d slip over here while Heidi watched my table.”

  Gertie and Beverly blinked a few times at my reasoning for stopping by, while Leo’s mouth hung slightly open mid-bite at my attempt to come across as smooth. I’d learned early on that it was always better to stick close to the truth, though.

  Upon closer consideration, I figure I could have probably pulled it off a bit better.

  “Treasure?”

  “Gold nuggets?”

  “My goodness, who ever said something like that?” Gertie laughed, while Beverly chuckled while shaking her head.

  “Gertie, where’s the shovel?” Beverly asked, causing both of the women to begin another round of laughter.

  Look what you’ve done, Raven. They’re becoming hysterical at the thought of riches. On a side note, I’m not so sure it’s worth coming here anymore. These generic treats taste like chalk rolled in dirt.

  “So, the story isn’t true?” I asked, relieved that they’d bought the story. At the same time, I was trying really hard not to be offended that they were getting a good laugh at my gullibility. “Not at all?”

  What did you expect? A chest full of gold nuggets to be handed over to you, along with the signed confession of the murderer typed out on a piece of paper? These old biddies are lucky to remember where they put their dentures this morning.

  “Not in the least,” Gertie said with a lingering chuckle. “Don’t you think if there was a treasure chest full of gold on my property that I wouldn’t have dug it up myself? It’s not easy to maintain a house such as this one, dear.”

  Well, the money certainly isn’t going into treats for her guests’ domesticated pets, now are they? I need water to swallow this chalky dirt cookie.

  “I wonder if that story stemmed from your great-great grandfather coming from out west with a bunch of gold, Gertie,” Beverly mulled over, pouring some hot water into one of the delicate teacups that were on a tray in the middle of the table. She set it gently in front of me. “Didn’t your mother say that’s how the inn got established all those years ago?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t like he hauled a chest full of gold nuggets across the country,” Gertie replied with another laugh. She reached for her tea while I began fixing mine with a bit of sugar and a touch of cream. “Who was telling such tales?”

  “Some woman named Agnus,” I replied, not getting the reaction that I’d imagined.

  At least from the two women, that was.

  Leo seemed to be hacking up either what was left of his treat or a hairball at my casual mention of the druid. I personally gave myself a pat on the back for sneaking in her name.

  Sweet angel of mercy! Maybe because you just said that a hundred and two-year-old woman was gallivanting around town perusing the annual garage sale as if she were…wait for it…a supernatural being! Oh, I do feel another asthma attack coming on.

  I took extra time in sipping my tea to somehow salvage my fib. This was exactly why I didn’t like lying. There were too many traps just waiting to be sprung, and my accidental tendencies always managed to hit the wrong lever.

  Being inside that mirror with Bernard is beginning to look better and better.

  “You mean that elderly lady who lives west of town?” Beverly asked with a frown. “I always thought she was a hermit of some kind. I’ve read about agoraphobia, you know. It’s a real disorder.”

  Just out of curiosity, would you believe that I suffered from agoraphobia if I got Dr. Jameson to sign off on it? Maybe he would prescribe some of the federal government catnip.

  “Well, I guess that explains how the story got mixed up.” Gertie set down her tea with only the slightest of tremors in her knotted hand. “I recall that Agnus’ mother used to visit my mother from time to time. Oh, what was her name…Hazel, Helen, Helena…Helena! That’s right. As for the tale that was told about my great-great grandfather over the years, I’m sure it got spun to something with longer roots. You know how telltales get started. Anyway, it’s good to know that Agnus is doing well enough to be out and about, though. Goodness gracious, I haven’t spoken to that woman for a good thirty to forty years. She and her mother were…a bit odd. Nice, but very odd.”

  While Gertie and Beverly continued to talk about Agnus and her mother, I was left off the hook from having to explain anything further. I continued to sip my tea, the palm of my hand warming at the thought of what Leo and I were left to do.

  You mean, the same palm that malfunctioned this morning when a band of ninja misfits chased me all over town? I never thought about it before, but maybe it’s you who needs an appointment with Dr. Jameson…and some medicine.

  One, Dr. Jameson was the town’s veterinarian.

  Two, my ability to sense danger was usually reserved for life or death situations.

  It was only then that my ability to harness an energy sphere came
into play. I wasn’t going to claim that I had the best aim, but I will say that looking back over our cases…well, the palm of my hand had definitely been a good indicator of when our lives had truly been in severe jeopardy.

  We’ll agree to disagree. I distinctly remember when you almost melted Ted into a puddle of liquified wax with your handy powerball. Anyway, I have a different plan for my salvation. We need to stop off at Dr. Jameson’s first. If he diagnoses me with agoraphobia, I’ll be forced to sit this one out…at home, in my cat bed, with my pipe stuffed full of premium organic federal government catnip. I believe it may help with my crippling condition.

  Leo seemed to have missed Gertie’s statement about Agnus’ mother stopping into the inn every once in a while. She had to be the one who cast the dark magic that had confined Bernard to the mirror.

  Unlike my memory, my hearing is in perfectly good order. Why do you think that my previously undiagnosed disorder of agoraphobia has risen to the surface? Finish your tea, Raven. We have an appointment with the local vet.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you absolutely sure?” my mother asked with a frown, sitting in a folding chair while Heidi and I stored away what hadn’t sold into storage bins.

  Absolutely. She wouldn’t even consider taking me to see Dr. Jameson. As the Mistress of the Dark, you should do something about her insubordinate nature.

  “Leo, my question wasn’t directed toward you,” my mother answered in agitation. It was easy to see that this whole druid thing was throwing her off her game. She didn’t like that someone possibly stronger than her might be hanging around the area. I had to agree it was a bit disconcerting. “Go off and play with those squirrel friends of yours or something.”

  Now listen here, you—”

  “Leo,” I warned, not in the mood to be a referee at the moment. I closed the lid on a small bin of items that had been left over from this afternoon. “No name calling.”