Creepy Christmas Waffle: Book 7 in the Diner of the Dead Series

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “Lights?” Frank asked.

  Sonja turned and flipped the switch, illuminating the one room guest house. Her heart raced as she scanned the area with her eyes. There was a kitchenette, a desk and chair in front of one window, a couch and television in the “living” area, and a bed in the back corner.

  “The only places for someone to hide would be in the front or back closet, or outside in the utility shed,” Sonja motioned toward all three.

  “Okay, I’ll check the utility shed first. Since the front door was locked and the windows seem secure my bet is someone would hide outside.”

  “Alright.”

  “You’ve got that pepper spray I gave you?” He referred to a small can of potent spray he had given her a few months back during a murder investigation.

  She nodded in confirmation.

  “Use it if you have to,” he instructed, taking a good long moment to look in her eyes. She knew she had a habit of encountering crazy murderers, and Frank knew it too.

  Without another word, he headed out into the cold.

  Once he was gone, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Sonja carefully approached the front coat closet, raised the pepper spray, and threw it open. She was greeted with nothing more than a various selection of coats, scarves, and winter boots. Closing the closet, she headed toward the back of the house. Again, gripping the handle, she carefully opened it. This time, a loud screech echoed from inside causing her to fall back onto the floor, dropping the pepper spray.

  Scrambling to get up, she stopped when she noticed the little ghost cat come trotting out.

  “Darn you,” she muttered. “Stop doing that.”

  About to stand up, Sonja spotted the little strange stone on the carpet where she had dropped it earlier that morning. She narrowed her gaze at it, a feeling of both anxiety and dread welling up inside her.

  Somehow, this little cursed object was involved in this murder. She had no idea how, but she felt it deep in her bones. It had already shown her the murder itself, and she hadn’t realized it until it was too late. She felt sick to her stomach as she realized she very likely could have prevented the crime from ever happening if she had just paid attention to the details and put the clues together.

  However, none of this explained why or how the stone had shown her the murder.

  A lightbulb went on in her mind, and she wondered if perhaps the stone would provide another vision for her—a vision of the murderer.

  Despite her reservations about touching the stone again, she felt compelled to at least try. If it meant capturing the murder, it was worth it. Perhaps it was a blessing, something meant to help her hone her supernatural skills and help prevent more murders.

  Her heart leaped in her chest when she considered that perhaps it was a present from her father, a way to help her. She was still so confused about what his involvement in the supernatural was, but it was apparent that he too could see ghosts. That had become abundantly clear when she had seen him standing near a spooky apparition on a hill in Wyoming only a month back.

  If the stone really was meant to help her solve these crimes and better utilize her strange abilities, she needed to take the chance.

  Kneeling on the carpet in front of the stone, she reached down with shaking hands and picked it up in her palms.

  * * *

  Again, just as before, she felt surrounded by the inky blackness of the unknown world. She could almost feel the darkness brushing her skin, beckoning her forward toward another vision, another pinprick of light on the horizon.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate to step forward. Moving closer, feeling almost as if she were walking through water, she came upon the vision. Standing before her at the top of a stairway was Dillion, Sam’s nephew.

  “I knew it,” she whispered.

  Then a strange and inky figure—hidden from her view—stepped up behind Dillion, a strand of gold Christmas garland in hand. The assailant wrapped the garland around the young man’s neck and pulled it tight, strangling the life out of him.

  “No,” Sonja shouted. “No, no, no!”

  * * *

  She opened her eyes to realize she was staring up at Frank. “Who was it? What happened?” he asked.

  “D-Dillion,” she whispered.

  “It was Dillion?” Frank shouted. “Dillion did this to you?”

  Sonja shook her head, finally coming out of the strange haze of her vision. “N-no. No one was here.”

  “Wait? No one?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I passed out, saw Dillion in a dream.”

  Frank sighed, tightly embracing his girlfriend. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You were on the floor, convulsing.”

  “Oh,” she muttered. “Well, I’m fine now.”

  “You better get into bed and get some sleep,” he ordered. “And you’re seeing a doctor as soon as possible.”

  Helping her up, he led her to the bed, removing her shoes and then tucking her in. “I’ve got to go help the deputies search the other houses.”

  “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave yet.” The horror of the vision was still strong in her mind and she didn’t want to be left alone.

  “O-okay,” he agreed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hand and held it. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “K.” He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”

  “You’re an old romantic,” she whispered.

  She closed her eyes, suddenly realizing how tired she was. She wondered if somehow, the stone’s power drained her, or if it was just the simple fact that it was nearly three in the morning.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  When Sonja woke up, it was still dark but the storm had passed. Glancing over at her bedside table she noted that it was only five in the morning. Sitting up in the bed, Sonja tried to think over the events from the night before. Following the ghost cat, the strange cave on the hill, twisting her ankle, and even the murder itself all seemed like a distant nightmare.

  A sudden jolt ran through her body. Wide awake now, she remembered the stone and the vision that had knocked her out.

  Getting up from her bed she searched the floor for the small item, hoping that Frank didn’t end up picking it up or touching it. She hated to think what the cursed rock might do to someone without supernatural capabilities.

  Finally spotting the stone on the floor near the bed, she let out a sigh of relief. Pulling her sweater up over her hand, she picked up the rock and placed it back in the velvet lined box on her desk.

  The memory of Dillion being strangled with garland returned to her, and she wondered if she should call Frank. Unfortunately, even if she did so, she had no idea what she would say. How could she explain that she had seen in a vision Dillion being murdered?

  A quiet snort noise made Sonja jump. Tiptoeing toward the couch in front of the television, she realized that Frank was laying there asleep. He had stayed the night with her, to make sure she was okay after she had passed out.

  Sighing, and despite the warmth she felt in her chest upon seeing him, Sonja secretly wished that he wasn’t there. She had too much on her mind to try and deal with a worried boyfriend this morning.

  Even if she tried to explain the situation, he wouldn’t understand. Normal everyday people just didn’t do well with ghosts, visions, and curse objects. After her experience with the stone the night before, she knew that this case was going to be too complicated—too supernatural—to investigate it properly with the town sheriff hanging around.

  And after the incident the night before, with him finding her in convulsions, she knew he would instantly want to take her to the hospital once the roads were clear. She didn’t have time for that. If she had learned anything during her experience with ghosts, it was that you didn’t ignore warnings when
they came. If she could manage it, she was going to keep Dillion from being murdered.

  However, she needed help from someone who knew about the strange and paranormal, someone who would believe everything she said.

  She needed to call Belinda.

  * * *

  Sonja managed to slip into some fresh clothes, grab her purse and keys, and sneak out the door without waking Frank. She just prayed that he stayed asleep for a little while longer.

  The amateur sleuth debated walking through her mother’s house and grabbing something to eat on her way out but decided it was in her best interest not to wake anyone. Heading around to the street, she spotted her van buried in the snow. Luckily, the city plow was just pulling up and beginning the process of snow removal. She knew that within minutes of the plow finishing its work that the crime scene would be filled with the hustle and bustle of police, witnesses, and EMTs. This meant she only had a few precious moments to get out before Frank tried to stop her.

  Working to brush the snow off the windows with the sleeve of her coat, and with the roar of the snow plow nearby, Sonja almost didn’t hear someone walking up behind her. The crunch of snow suddenly caught her attention. Spinning around, she found herself face-to-face with Richard. Compared to the night before, he looked just as bad, if not worse. She swore if his eyes sunk any further back into his skull he might just wither away and turn into a skeleton.

  “Dick, are you okay?” she reached forward and touched his shoulder.

  “F-fine,” he stuttered through a sheen of sweat. “I think I just need to go home.”

  “I think you need to see a doctor,” Sonja insisted. “And either way, I can’t allow you to drive yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped angrily, the skin in his face going from pale to red. “I don’t need you to hold my hand. I’ve taken care of myself longer than you’ve been alive.”

  Sonja unconsciously took a step back toward her van. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Well, don’t,” he snarled, his voice sounding more like an animal’s growl than a human.

  “S-sorry,” she muttered, suddenly afraid. Something was definitely wrong with him, and Sonja just couldn’t figure out what it was. Scurrying around to the driver side of the van, Sonja climbed in. This Christmas was just getting weirder and weirder.

  Pulling out her phone, Sonja dialed Belinda’s number.

  * * *

  Sonja had only expected to leave a message, given that it was still so early in the morning, but Belinda picked up on the second ring, much to the diner owner’s surprise. Belinda insisted that she’d already been awake for hours since the “nighttime hours” were the best time for communication with the dead.

  Sonja’s supernatural friend also affirmed that she had planned on going to the library that day, despite the facility being closed, to catch up on some cataloging. After all, she had said, she didn’t have any family to spend the holiday with and had no reason to sit at home alone all day in the giant mansion she had inherited from her late father.

  After distinctly inviting Belinda to spend Christmas morning at her house (and feeling poorly for not inviting her spooky friend to the block party) Sonja gave a few brief details about her current plight.

  What she was in need of most was more information about the mysterious stone that had arrived on her doorstep the morning before.

  Belinda instantly and energetically welcomed the opportunity to get together and speak with her friend about anything supernatural. The two agreed to meet at the library in a half of an hour.

  After hanging up, Sonja stopped for a cup of coffee at the local café and then headed over to the library.

  The building always looked sort of eerie on its own. It had once been a church when it was first built—with the traditional gothic architecture and everything—but once it was declared a historical landmark, the city had converted it into the library. Now, standing out on the front steps, looking up at the building all dressed in silent snow, Sonja shivered.

  She already knew a ghost resided there, and had even had ghostly encounters in the old bell tower, but she still felt strangely nervous going up the steps.

  Once inside, her footfalls echoed through the hallways.

  “Sonja?” A familiar voice called from behind a book shelf. Sure enough, Belinda popped out and smiled. “Hi,” she greeted her friend with a hug. As per usual, Belinda was dressed completely in black. She had a blouse with long flowing sleeves, a pair of black jeans, black zip up boots—for the snow most likely—and even a black headband to hold her back her raven hair.

  “Hey,” Sonja replied. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “No problem. I’d never pass up an opportunity to talk to the only person in town who doesn’t think I’m insane.” She nodded her head. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  Walking in stride with her friend, Sonja followed as they moved toward the back of the building. “So, about the stone.”

  “Did you bring it?” Belinda asked, a little too eagerly.

  Sonja narrowed her eyes at the librarian. “Don’t get too excited, k’? This thing could be dangerous.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the box. “And whatever you do, don’t touch it with your bare hands.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with cursed objects before,” she confided. “Down here.” Belinda stepped through an archway and into a twisting stone stairwell.

  Sonja stopped, her feeling of dread only growing. “I thought we were just going to do some research.”

  Belinda looked up at her friend and nodded. “We are. The books we need are down here.”

  Despite the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Sonja followed her down the stairs until they reached a large oak door with one small window in it. The librarian took out a set of keys and slipped one into the lock, turning it. A loud and metallic click echoed against the walls and then the door creaked open.

  “This is the occult section of the library.”

  Stepping in, Sonja examined the small room. Three of the four walls had bookcases along them, filled to the brim with volumes that looked like they ranged from the dark ages up until the modern age. A table with two chairs sat in the center of the room. “You keep them locked up?”

  Belinda suddenly turned to her friend with a very serious look in her eye. “Sonja, you should know better than anyone how dangerous some of these can be.”

  Instantly, the young sleuth thought of a book she had burned a few months prior in order to exercise the ghost of a witch, a witch who was intimately connected with Belinda. She nodded in agreement. “You’re right.” Pulling out one of the chairs, she took a seat, setting the little gift box on the table. “Where do we start?”

  “Well, first of all, let me see the thing,” Belinda replied, sitting across from Sonja.

  The diner owner carefully lifted the lid off the box and both women leaned over to peer inside. After raising an eyebrow, Belinda muttered, “It just looks like a rock.”

  “A rock that gives visions of murders.”

  “Right. I think I know where we can start.” Standing up, Belinda began pulling various books off the shelf and, moving aside the strange looking candlestick, plopped them down on the table. “Be careful with these. Whatever you do, don’t read any of it out loud.”

  Sonja felt her heart beating slightly from anxiety. “Okay?” She had been dealing with ghosts and the supernatural for almost nine months now, but she hadn’t really dabbled in the occult for fear of creating more problems. Unfortunately, this was one case where she didn’t see any other way around the situation.

  Both women dived in, digging through countless tomes. Sonja found herself reading about cursed objects, magical items, mystical talismans, and even ghosts trapped inside of various artifacts. While she was surprised by the amount of information available (and the number of frightening things that potentially existed) she still never found any entries that sounded like the stone sitting in the box in front
of her.

  After about four hours, she was about ready to give up.

  “Hey,” Belinda squeaked. “I think I may have found something.”

  Sonja eagerly stood up to read over her friend’s shoulder. “What is it?”

  “The Arwassa Stone.” She pointed at the small drawing on the page.

  “The Arwassa Stone?”

  “Remember,” Belinda scolded. “Don’t read it out loud. Just in case.”

  Sonja nodded and then proceeded to silently read.

  The Arwassa Stone: A black stone that has the power to alter the future of humankind. The stone appears as a normal smooth stone with sharp edges. However, when touched with human blood, the stone will glow bright red. Whoever bears the stone, also known as “the caster,” has the power to cause death to occur all around them. By simply touching the stone, the caster may activate the stone’s power. They can choose to mark one person for death, and another person as the death bringer.

  “The death bringer?” Sonja exclaimed.

  “Don’t say it out loud,” Belinda squeaked nervously.

  Sonja continued reading.

  It is believed that the spirit of an ancient being or wild animal leaves the stone and in turn possess the one marked as the death bringer. The future of the caster’s choice is foretold in vision. However, an inexperienced caster may inadvertently mark random innocents without knowing it. If the stone is fed enough blood, enough life force, it may even have the power to act on its own through the caster, working on the pre-existing emotions and grudges of the people surrounding her.

  “Oh, no,” Sonja whispered, the dire nature of the situation suddenly setting in. “This is bad.”

  “I think I’ve heard of this thing before,” Belinda admitted. “Now that I’ve read this, I’m almost positive I’ve heard of this stone somewhere before.”

  “I-I think I’m the caster,” Sonja muttered. “I’ve touched it twice. The first time, a murder occurred. The second time . . .” She thought of Dillion, hanging from the strand of garland. Sonja worried that her anger, her desire for Sam’s murderer to be Dillion, may have caused her to mark him unknowingly. Sonja eagerly read on, desperate for a solution or explanation on how to reverse the power of the stone.