Making spirits bright, p.1
Making Spirits Bright, page 1
part #9 of Midlife Spirits Series
MAKING SPIRITS BRIGHT
Midlife Spirits Series #9
by
H.P. Mallory
Other Books by H.P. Mallory
Paranormal Series: (Writing as H.P. Mallory)
Chasing Demons Series
Poppy’s Potions Series
Wanda’s Witchery Series
Lucy Westenra Series
Dungeon Raider Series
Lily Harper Series
Dulcie O’Neil Series (over 1 million downloads of the series!)
Underworld Series (New York Times bestselling series!)
NuLife Series
Midlife Spirits Series
Reverse Harem Series: (Writing as Plum Pascal)
Happily Never After Series
Sacred Oath Series
Virtual Escapes Series
Making Spirits Bright
Published by Rain Press
Copyright © 2021 by H.P Mallory
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Reading Sample: Hell on Earth
About Author
Foreword
by J.R. Rain
Hi there and welcome to the Midlife Spirits Series!
J.R. Rain here, and I’m so excited to introduce you to the world of Peyton Clark and all her ghostly happenings!
The Midlife Spirits Series is written by my friend and co-author, H.P. Mallory. If you love paranormal women’s fiction and our series taking place in Haven Hollow (Poppy’s Potions and Wanda’s Witchery with more coming), I know you’ll love this one!
Get ready for lots of New Orleans history, twists and turns that will keep you guessing, action, adventure, and romance that will stay with you long after you’ve put the books down.
I’m so thrilled for you to start this series and lose yourself in the world H.P.’s created for Peyton and the gang.
Happy Reading!
—J.R.
Making Spirits Bright
Chapter One
Ryan and I spent about an hour grocery shopping, and by the time we returned to the house, Maggie and Drake were in an argument. Apparently, in the end, Drake was banished from Maggie’s room indefinitely. The reason? That was where they both gave differing accounts.
Maggie claimed she’d been sitting on her bed in her room, listening to music and journaling when a silver, ghostly figure floated through the wall without knocking or otherwise announcing himself. Maggie immediately let out a scream and told him to get out—she could have been getting dressed—and Drake let out a sullen sigh, saying he thought everyone, Maggie included, had already left.
Drake’s account was a little different. In his report, he never even entered Maggie’s room. Instead, he was searching for a book about the ladies of the French Revolution, one that he remembered having last seen in the attic loft. (I didn’t tell him, but I’d recently tossed the book in question—it contained scandalous drawings—which, I deduced, was the primary reason Drake wanted it).
Searching the loft without finding said book, he drifted down through the floorboards into one of the storage rooms. Hearing a noise, he was startled to find Maggie in the room on her hands and knees, curiously studying a bright crystal orb that appeared to be “releasing some sort of music.” Every few minutes, the foggy pattern in the orb would change and she would ask it a question.
When I asked what sorts of questions Maggie was asking the glowing orb, Drake replied: “Can Ryan be trusted, or is he a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Does Ryan love Peyton as much as Drake does? (to which Drake heartily insisted that he loved me more).
“Really?” I asked with a frown. “Maggie really asked a crystal ball questions about my love life?”
“Right hand over my heart, I didn’t ask any of those questions at all,” Maggie protested. She was on the brink of tears; it didn’t occur to me that sharing the house with an older male ghost would prove to be such a trying experience. Had Drake been a woman, perhaps they would have gotten along better.
“It is possible she did not ask such questions,” Drake admitted with a frown. “But she was most certainly poking around in the attic and handling items that do not concern her!”
Drake had never been a liar and I couldn’t understand why he’d lie about this because it seemed like such a silly thing to lie about. I also couldn’t understand why Maggie wouldn’t just admit that she wanted to explore the old house. I didn’t blame her. I would have wanted to do the same thing.
“Drake, you know how to knock,” I said as I frowned at the irritated ghost.
“This is my house, mon chaton, and pardon me if I believed all of you were out on your errand! I was as surprised as she!”
“He’s a perv!” Maggie yelled back at him.
“I am no such thing!” Drake responded, even though I doubted he understood the meaning of the word.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asked, eyeing both Maggie and me with a frown.
“Maggie and Drake are having an argument and I’m the referee,” I answered.
“What happened?” Ryan asked.
“I was hanging out in my room and Drake came in unannounced!” Maggie yelled.
“I did no such thing!” Drake responded. “And she was in the attic, not in her bedchamber at all!”
“Sounds like ‘Housewives of New Orleans,’” Ryan grumbled as he shook his head and disappeared into the living room, leaving Maggie and me to unbag and put the groceries away while Drake floated overhead.
“Did le barbare just refer to me as a married woman?” Drake asked.
“He meant it in the best possible way,” I answered before I turned my attention back to Maggie. “Both of you are going to have to make some adjustments,” I said slowly while I put the milk in the fridge. “Drake has always been very respectful to me, and now that he knows you’re living here, he’ll do his best not to bother you.” Then I faced the perturbed ghost. “Won’t you, Drake?”
“Had I known where she was, I would not have offended.”
Ryan chose that moment to walk back into the kitchen. “Maggie, you’re gonna have to accept that you’re living with a Peeping Tom. A ghost Peeping Tom,” he corrected, clearly afraid Maggie might think he was referring to himself.
I nearly threw a baguette at him. “Ryan, you’re making this worse!”
He shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one who barged in on her.”
“Tell le barbare he can stick that cucumber you’re holding right up his,” Drake started but I interrupted him.
“Imagine you had the ability to drift through walls and floors, and you didn’t always know when a room was occupied. There would be accidents and apologies, I’m sure,” I said, feeling the need to defend Drake.
“I’d learn how to use a damn door,” said Ryan, shoving the orange juice into the back of the fridge (and accidentally upsetting two briny jars of olives in the process). I handed him a frozen pork loin, which he placed in the freezer. “Well, now Drake knows.”
It was very likely that Maggie had, in fact, been investigating some of the mysterious items in the attic. Drake’s story seemed wholly plausible because Maggie was enthralled by everything paranormal or occult so it followed that once she discovered the attic, it would be like her very own wonderland.
“Fine,” Maggie said, leaping off the stool.
“Now apologize to each other,” I said, feeling like the mother of two five-year-olds.
Drake came drifting out of the pantry. He was wearing an old gendarme’s uniform and a pair of solid gold epaulettes that gave him a striking appearance. “I shall not apologize for I did nothing wrong, mon chaton,” he said in a tone of lazy contempt. “That child is a liar and would shamelessly besmirch the word of a dead man!”
Ryan asked me to repeat what Drake said. Reluctantly, I did. “Dead men can lie, too,” Ryan replied with a shrug.
Bursting into tears, Maggie ran out of the kitchen and upstairs to her room.
Drake watched her go with a look of mild fascination, then added, “Why do the young always insist on a flair for the dramatic? I can assure you that when I was her age, I behaved in the manner appropriate!”
“You’re dramatic and hard to deal with now,” I rebuked, handing Ryan a bag of cumquats as I faced Drake. “It’s like having two teenagers in the house. Can’t you and Maggie try to find some common ground?”
“How long will I be forced to put up with her?” Drake asked.
“Two weeks,” I responded. “And you’d better make them pleasant for her… and for me.”
“And for me,” Ryan added.
“Va te faire enculer!” Drake spat at Ryan. “Fils de pute! Branleur!”
Having had a best friend in high school who was French, I knew the French swear words better than I knew the rest of the language. Even though I tried to control myself, I started to snicker as Drake disappeared into the hallway.
“Why are you laughing?” Ryan asked as he eyed me with interest.
“No reason.
“Liar!” Then he eyed me more narrowly. “What did Drake say?”
“Um, he called you a few names.”
“What names?”
I cleared my throat. “If I remember correctly he said, and I quote: ‘Go fuck yourself! Son of a bitch! Wanker!’”
Ryan was quiet for a moment but then he started cracking up and the two of us laughed together. Meanwhile, I handed him a bunch of spinach and a jar full of garlic and he placed them in the bottom drawers of the fridge.
I had to wonder if the fact that Drake was handsome was part of the reason Maggie seemed so upset about him eavesdropping on her. She was at the age where she was a hormonal bundle, so it probably followed that living with Drake would prove to have its own issues.
Speaking of the devil, he appeared in the hallway again, his lips tight and his expression determined. He floated right up to me and then glared at me.
“I assure you, mon cherie, I will do everything in my power to be a gentleman, such as I was raised,” Drake said, “and, for your personal knowledge, I told the whole truth. The girl is too curious. You were not out of the house for more than ten minutes before she began sneaking around, opening wardrobes and peeping under the tables.”
“It’s normal for a young woman who’s just discovering she’s a sensitive to go through a phase of wanting to know all she can about the spiritual realm. It’s not like she’s ever seen a haunted house before, let alone lived in one,” I said coolly. “I was very much like Maggie when I was her age. Insatiably curious.”
“I understand but she did not have to lie about her curiosity, nor drag my name into the proverbial dirt,” Drake insisted.
I nodded. “I’ll talk to her about it.”
Closing the cabinets, Ryan said to me, “I think your nostalgia for your own youth might be clouding your judgment. There are some genuinely dangerous objects in the storage room like that Ouija Board you used with my sister. Things Maggie shouldn’t be messing with. God only knows what she’ll summon next time we’re not here.”
“I am afraid I must agree with le barbare, madame,” said Drake in a beleaguered tone, as if humiliated by this accidental alliance. “L’ enfant could find herself traveling back in time, releasing an ancient curse over the city, or perhaps bewitching the radios of New Orleans to play only that ruckus you turned on the other night!”
“Led Zeppelin is hardly a ruckus,” I answered with a shrug.
“Drake has something against Zeppelin?” Ryan asked, shaking his head. “Tell that dandy he needs to learn a thing or two.”
“Dandy?” Drake railed, his jaw growing tighter. “T'as pas de coquilles! J'en ai ral le cul!”
“Drake, Drake, Drake,” I said, grabbing his attention again.
“What’s he saying now?” Ryan asked.
“Something about how you don’t have the balls… for what? I don’t know. And then he said he was fucking fed up.”
“You miss the point entirely, madame!” Drake snapped.
“Which is?”
I began slathering marmalade over a slice of toast.
As Drake watched, he said, “L’ enfant can’t be trusted in the attic! It is akin to leaving a child alone unattended inside a nuclear reactor! One day you shall return home to find the house gone—exploded to smithereens and me with it!”
“You’re being overly dramatic.”
He shook his head. “Non, I am being realistic! I am afraid the only solution is for me to keep an eye on her myself.”
It took me a second to register the full implications of what he was suggesting. “Keeping an eye on her? But that would mean—”
“Doing precisely the thing she just accused him of doing,” Ryan finished for me.
“I will not play the voyeur, I assure you,” said Drake, chest swelling with pride. “I will not observe her during her intimate moments. I will not go into her room unless I believe she is in danger or is endangering the rest of you. But when she wanders through the house, as she will surely do, it is my obligation, non, it is my solemn duty to keep watch in the name of security.”
“What’s he saying now?” Ryan asked.
“That he thinks it’s his duty to keep an eye on Maggie so she doesn’t inadvertently open a portal into another dimension and return with Predator or Alien or maybe both.”
“I do not know this Predator of which you speak, mon chaton,” Drake said.
“I hate to say it,” said Ryan, “but I think the ghost might have a point.”
“Please tell le barbare it is rude to refer to one as the ghost,” Drake said, glaring at the hunk.
“Then you believe Drake?” I asked Ryan. “You think Maggie was snooping?”
Ryan shrugged. “Why would Drake lie about something so dumb?”
“Oui!” Drake said triumphantly. “Why would I lie about something so dumb? Yes!”
“And it would probably be good to keep an eye on her anyway. Teenagers are always getting into trouble,” Ryan finished.
I wasn’t sure Maggie’s behavior tonight merited her her constant supervision. She was old enough and mature enough to look after herself. “Maggie’s almost an adult.”
“She’s still a kid, Peyton.” He tried to rope an arm around my waist, but I brushed him away, much to Drake’s relief. “The attic is full of dangerous shit.”
As always, Ryan seemed to have the more rational argument. And he was right. The attic played house to vanishing cabinets, hands of glory, sleep-inducing music boxes—the list went on.
“Fine, Drake can watch her,” I said finally, throwing my hands up. Between the two of them, I was badly outnumbered. “But only when we’re not around, and only when she’s not in her room.”
“Oui,” Drake said with a clipped nod.
“What was she messing around with when Drake found her anyway?” Ryan asked.
“A crystal orb, which is about as useful as a Magic Eight-Ball from Wal-Mart,” I answered.
“Right, but we have no idea what else is in there,” Ryan said.
Over the last couple of months, I’d been collecting paranormal objects from various antique stores around the city and storing them in the attic. Why? Because it was easier to make contact with the dead when you had an object designed for that exact enterprise. And with Drake out of my head, I needed all the help I could get.
“So that means Drake will keep an eye on Maggie tomorrow night when we go to The Old Absinthe House,” I said.
“Right,” Ryan agreed.
Rinsing off the butter knife, I placed it back in the drawer to the left of the sink.
“If you would ask my humble opinion,” Drake started. “I believe the objects in the attic could be of interest to whoever this thief is.”
A shudder of apprehension overcame me as frightening visions flashed in my mind’s eye: A defenseless Maggie opening the door and letting some powerful creature into the house.
Chapter Two
When I entered the kitchen the next morning at nine am, I found Maggie already dressed and seated at the island, eating naked toast and vegan sausage links. “Hey you,” I said groggily as I reached for the coffeemaker before remembering that it was still broken, and shoving it aside, “how’d you sleep last night? No ghostly interruptions?”
“No, I just watched a movie on my iPad until I fell asleep.”
“So Drake behaved himself?”
She nodded but I could tell she was still uncomfortable with the subject. “I kept thinking I heard noises—it was probably just the house, though. There’s supposed to be a big storm coming in tonight.”
“That’s fantastic.” If it rained, water would drip through the leaky ceiling and end up all over the bed in the master bedroom. The antique bed was too old and large to be easily moved, or we would have just moved it out of the way. Guess we needed more tarps and buckets to catch the leaks. And then I remembered Ryan and I had plans to go to The Old Absinthe House tonight. “I’m really not in the mood to brave New Orleans traffic in a torrential downpour.”
“At least, you won’t have to spend the night alone in a scary, old house with an ahole ghost and a doll that randomly moves around.” Stabbing at her last link with unusual vigor, Maggie added, “What are we doing for the rest of the day, anyway? Before you and Ryan leave tonight, I mean?”
