Ouija, Death & Wicked Witchery
Bohemian Murder Manor Mysteries
Bohemian Lake Series 10
Looking for advice, Mallory Vianu, manager of Caravan Manor attempts to summon the spirit of a loved one for guidance. Unfortunately, she seems to have connected with someone else instead—the town’s most notorious killer. A witch hunter as dangerous as the torrential rains rolling through Bohemian Lake. Not great news, especially given her family is currently hosting Hexfest: A Weekend of Witchery.
She hopes the world’s leading paranormal expert and keynote speaker; Madam Sylvia Broome can help her sort things out. But when the head witch, herself goes missing, Mallory fears the witch hunt she’s unleashed in Bohemian Lake.
As more witches come under fire, Mallory and her powerful posse begin to work with the town’s historical society unraveling a three-hundred-year-old clandestine love affair, a plot for revenge—and a mysterious descendant hidden right in the manor, itself.
Even the witches are spooked, or they would be if Eve Banter weren’t busy bamboozling them.
Rachael Stapleton & DeAnn Howe
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Copyright © 2019 Rachael Stapleton
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.
Welcome to the World of Bohemian Lake: Cozy Mystery Recommended Reading Order by Rachael Stapleton:
Penning Trouble: Murder, She Floats
Haunted House Flippers: Cookies, Corpses & the Deadly Haunt
Penning Trouble: Murder, She Slopes
Haunted House Flippers: Candy Canes, Corpses & the Gothic Haunt
Bohemian Murder Manor: Gypsies, Traps & Missing Thieves
Bohemian Murder Manor: Make-Believes & Lost Memories
Haunted House Flippers: Crumb Cake, Corpses & the Run-of-the-Mill
Penning Trouble: Murder, Ye Bones
Bohemian Festival Fiasco: Nuttier than Pecan Pie
Bohemian Murder Manor: Ouija, Death & Wicked Witchery
Haunted House Flippers: Crème Eggs, Corpses and the Farmhouse Fixer
The Time Traveling Bibliophile
Book 1: Temple of Indra’s Jewel
Book 2: Temple of Indra’s Curse
Book 3: Temple of Indra’s Lies
Book 4: Temple of Indra’s Witch
Read all about Rachael Stapleton and her books at RachaelStapleton.com
ONE
M allory Vianu’s gaze wandered over her friend’s shoulder to the crystals on the shelf. Crystals were supposed to help with unease, and Peace and Light was filled with them. Not to mention everything else, from astral charts and tarot cards to herbs and harps.
“Close your eyes, Mal, and please, for the love of the goddess, stop squeezing my hands so tight. I’m going to need them back when we’re done. These shelves won’t restock themselves… unless you know a spell, that is.”
Mallory chuckled, but did as her friend, white witch Star St. James, instructed. Star looked gorgeous in her white pantsuit. Like a beacon in the dimly lit room. She never wore anything but white.
The woman was a breath of fresh air in Bohemian Lake—a native Californian who’d moved here only eight months ago. They were seated at an old table in the corner of Star’s shop. Mallory and Nana read tarot cards here on a weekly basis for Star’s customers. In the candlelight, the table glowed, throwing shadows on the walls.
Star pushed her trademark platinum fishtail braid back over her shoulder and took a deep breath. “Let us begin. Spirits of the air–hear our voices. We seek Marco Lautari. His daughter, Mallory is looking to convene. Hear us, spirits. We ask your blessing and to speak to Marco.”
Contacting the spirits—specifically, attempting to contact Mallory’s mother Jilli—was what had brought Star and Mallory together in the first place. Although, it had never worked, which Mallory now knew was because Jilli had never really been dead—only trapped in a magical mirror.
They’d never tried before to contact Mallory’s father, but there was something in the air this week—something that scared her. She could feel it in her soul and Nana’s cards had confirmed her suspicions. Mallory was hosting the region’s largest witch convention, Hexfest—a conference for witches, spiritual guides, and other magical teachers from around the world—and she needed advice from the other side.
Mallory squeezed her eyes closed, wanting so much to see her father, to receive his guidance once more.
“Is anything happening?” Mallory whispered. She could hear the wind battering the shop outside. Bohemian Lake was catching the tail end of a nasty spring storm.
“Nothing is going to happen if you keep talking, Mal.” Star’s voice seemed loud even though she was whispering.
The candle on the table between them flickered as though some errant breeze had filtered through the room. There was a scratching sound at the window beside them. Mallory rationalized it as a tree branch, clawing at the glass, but this was Main Street and the trees didn’t butt up against the shops.
Star invited the dead to join them, but they were met once again with silence. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mal. Maybe we could try again later, during the witching hour.”
Mallory opened her eyes and glanced around the room. A prickly tingling went up and down her spine, but that was all. About what you’d expect when you’re sitting in a dark room trying to call back the dead. “Maybe he doesn’t want to come back.”
“Listen, it’s not always that cut and dry. Sometimes it isn’t that easy to come back. Maybe your father just can’t get here—maybe there’s a reason like there was with Jilli.”
Mallory smiled at her, took her hands back and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thanks for saying that, but I think chances are slim that he’s alive too.”
As though her words were a signal to some unseen source, the candle on the table not only went out, but the candleholder fell over, and something smashed through the front glass and landed on the floor. The lightning lit up the sky revealing a strange shape in the room.
Star and Mallory moved quickly away from it. “I think we might have created a breach in the spirit plane. That kind of stuff doesn’t just happen with a normal séance.”
“It’s just the storm,” Mallory assured her. She walked to the window to get a better look. Storm debris was being pushed across the road, down the road she saw a couple of people dressed in colorful ponchos and boots but otherwise the town looked empty. Mallory bent to pick up a piece of brick that lay on the floor–a house flashed in her mind when she touched it—the finder’s touch. “This belongs to the Witch House on Old Salem Road. It couldn’t have been blown all the way down here.”
Star nodded. “The Witch House? Maybe one of our sisters has come with a message.”
“Hey, wait. There’s a note wrapped around it.” Mallory unwound the rubber band and read: All Witches Must Die. The Hunt is On. She clapped her hand over her mouth and showed it to Star.
Look,” Star whispered, ignoring the note and pointing to an orb of light that floated across the dark room. Mallory had seen orbs before, thanks to her Roma heritage—one had turned out to be her great-grandmother Simza.
“Who—?” Mallory asked.
“I don’t know yet,” she answered,
clearly awed. “Spirits sometimes travel like this when they don’t take form.”
Mallory swallowed hard. “Can you talk to it?”
“I don’t think so. It’s pure energy.”
“Is there any chance it could be my father?”
As if in answer, the orb flared out like a sparkler, then disappeared.
Heart pounding, Mallory answered her trilling phone and tried to focus.
“Hello?” It was about the conference. “Okay, I’ll be right there,” Mallory promised one of the other Bohemian Festival Committee (BFC) members who sounded on the verge of collapse.
“What’s going on?” Star asked after Mallory got off the phone.
“It’s this conference. I need to go iron out some kinks.” Mallory hugged her and smiled. “Will you be alright? Should I call Kaden? This is a threat.”
Star laughed. “It was probably some mischievous kids. I used to get this all the time in California. It’s not a big deal. Go do your BFC thing. Hopefully this storm settles down.”
TWO
M allory pulled up the circle drive and parked out front of the double doors to Caravan Manor.
“Where have you been?” Eve Banter demanded in an uncharacteristic tone of panic. She was waiting for Mal with a rolled cigarette between her fingers. Normally the woman was unflappable, but she looked on edge. “This place is trucking nuts!”
Mallory was drenched, and her teeth were chattering. “Eve, since when did you start smoking?” Suddenly the aroma of teenage angst and skunk hit her.
“Eve Banter! What is that in your hand?”
“What? This ole thing?” She twanged innocently and then tapped her joint against a pearl colored case, tucking it away. “I’ve got glaucoma, sweetie pie, or didn’t you know?” She smiled wide.
“Your eyes are brown.”
Eve inhaled like a scorned woman. “Well I never… are you implying I can’t have glaucoma if I have brown eyes?”
“No, I’m saying you’re full of it.”
“Ah! Judgey Judgerson.” Eve pretended to be offended, but her eyes flared with amusement.
“Anyway, you had Rebel and Ellie to help out. What’s the problem?”
“The problem?” Eve repeated.
Mallory didn’t know what was going on, but she knew Eve didn’t get upset over just anything. “I mean I’m sorry. I should’ve been here. I’m soaked and freezing. Let’s start over. So, what’s going on?”
Eve took out a large pink notebook. “Where do I start? The table cloths are the wrong size. I can’t find that Ouija Board you wanted. The hoity-toity witch from Malibu needs a room with a better view, and her minions want an environmentally friendly brand of toilet paper. Damn hippies. Where the hell do I find toilet paper made of hemp? Not to mention, the schedule won’t print, and there may not be enough champagne, but it’s too late to get any more.”
“Not enough champagne? How can that be? The basement is full.”
“Not after I get done with it, it won’t be.” Eve retorted.
Mallory sighed. “Why isn’t Nana, Danior or the new girl—what’s her name? Cotton’s niece—Lizzy handling the manor related problems?” Mallory wiped away the rain that kept dripping down her face.
“The old battle-ax is helping Nataliya in the kitchen. Danior is probably busy making out with Emilion, and Lizzy is in there running back and forth, doing her best impression of a headless chicken.” She smiled in her Eve-like fashion. “But whatever Nataliya is cooking smells down right scrumptious! I can’t wait!”
“Well, that’s good news. The weed must be kicking in. Where’s the rest of the BFC—Ellie, Penny Rebel?”
“Beats me,” Eve said, now comfortably numb.
Mallory walked past her and entered the lobby of the manor. It was warm and dry inside, with a pleasant fire in the old hearth—and thank goodness for that, because her clothes were plastered to her, and her long dark hair was hanging down her back like a sopping wet mop. She put on her biggest smile and began to put things in order.
The first thing she did was check in with Lizzy at the front desk to make sure Eve hadn’t scared her away. The new receptionist was a beautiful young woman, probably in her late twenties, who dressed well and seemed to have an affinity for getting along with people. Her parents, originally both from Bohemian Lake, had moved away before she was born, but Lizzy had come back to take care of her ailing great uncle, Cotton Hubbard.
After she checked on Lizzy, Mallory popped her head in the kitchen. Nataliya had four other cooks working with her. They all wore white jackets with cute little chef’s hats–except for Nana, who wore an apron over her costume. Mallory watched as Nataliya directed, tasted, and got everything ready.
“Malhala?” Nana looked upset and unhappy when she saw Mallory. “You look like a drowned rat. What happened?”
“The storm is what happened. It’s brutal out there. We should probably put towels at the front door for arriving guests.”
“But you’re speaking tonight. Hurry on and get dressed already.” She took her arm and they moved down the hall to the secret passage that would take Mal to her room. “How did it go with Star? Did you find out what’s coming?”
Mallory shrugged. “No. The spirits were quiet. A little violent, but quiet.”
Nana pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, dear. But we’ll just have to deal with whatever comes our way.”
Mallory smiled. “We always do.”
“We are Vianu women, after all.” Nana pushed her toward the passage door. “Now scat! You don’t want people to see the head of Bohemian Lake’s Festival Committee looking like a drowned rat. Then get out there and mingle with those witches. That’s why you did this, right?”
She was right, Mal thought, heading up the secret stairs. Thirteen witches. Two days talking about gifts and powers. She was about to get some good advice on how best to manage her new and still evolving talents. Mallory was a bit of a mixed bag when it came to talents. She could see auras and yet she couldn’t decipher them. Well, apart from a few colors, but she needed more guidance in that area. And her finder’s gift, now there was a talent that stumped her. It seemed to morph depending on circumstances. Sometimes she heard music—specifically violins, other times like earlier with the brick, she heard nothing at all and just knew things. It was a little baffling and she was really hoping the High Priestess, who also happened to be a finder could shed some light.
Mallory took a long hot shower and pushed the séance and the storm from her mind. She was manager of Bohemian Lake’s main resort and used to hosting events. She would dazzle as always. And the High Priestess would help her.
As she gazed at herself in the lovely antique mirror, she added a touch of lip gloss and was ready to go.
She smiled at her curvy reflection, running a hand over her hip, then she saw something move. Well, it was almost something. But when she turned and stared at that area of the room, there was nothing there.
She surveyed the room. She was on the third floor of the Caravan Manor, where she lived with her Nana, her sister, Danior and now her mother, Jilli. She had plans to move out to the cottage; she just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
Nerves. She secured her pendant and headed out the door, still feeling that residual static electricity flowing up and down her arms and against the back of her neck.
It was the storm, she told herself, as thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows of the old manor. But her Roma instincts told her otherwise.
THREE
T he costume ball was a great hit. People were smiling, enjoying the good food and talking to each other. The ballroom was filled with a mixture of witches and Bohemian natives all dressed in the Dark Baptism theme. Everything from 17th-century dress to modern-day pointy hats and occult-themed capes. A few had come in opposing character costumes—witch hunters like Hansel and Gretel. There was even a Father Blackwood. It was all in good fun and everyone looked pleased. They cleaned up pretty well–especial
ly Detective Kaden Bones. At six foot, he wasn’t quite as tall as her last boyfriend, ghost hunter Daemon Wraith, but he was still visible from any corner of the room.
Mallory was prejudiced, of course, since they’d been dating for the last few months—ever since Daemon had broken up with her in November. His Halloween trip to Brazil had been the final nail in the coffin. It was so much easier with Kaden. Sometimes it seemed as though Kaden had lived in Bohemian Lake forever, even though he’d been here less than a year. And he wasn’t surprised or put off by her gifts. Magical mirrors and ghost stories left him unphased. He might not have been born in Bohemian Lake, but he belonged here.
“Seems like a good party,” he said, dropping a kiss on her cheek.
“I can’t believe you came!” Mallory turned and hugged him. “I thought you were working tonight.”
“I traded shifts. I didn’t want to miss the festivities. It’s not every day I’m surrounded by witches, unless you count Eve and the Mabels when they’re nosing for information. Speaking of which, what is Eve wearing? I thought this was a specific occult-themed party—you know, witches and witch hunters? What’s with the evil schoolgirl vibe?”
“Actually, the theme was tweaked.” Mallory smirked, taking in Eve’s sassy-yet-sweet mini dress with the lace collar, and oxford heels. “She’s one of the Weird sisters from that new Sabrina reboot. She made all of the BFC members match—except for me. I refused.”
“And that’s why she felt it appropriate to wear corn rows?”
Mallory closed her eyes and nodded, “She’s obviously the leader, Prudence. Let’s not go there.”
Kaden nodded, “Fair enough, looks like she’s vying for your job as president of the Festival Committee. She’s been handing out buttons for the last hour. She keeps calling it the Big Frickin’ Committee.”
“I could put a hex on her.” Star joined them, wearing a beautiful white silk gown.
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