Page 25 of Air Of Mystery (Witches On The Hill #4)

Once we wrapped everything up with the interviews and Larry got the shots of the museum and the interiors of the mansion, the three of us met back up in the lobby at ten ‘til six.

Together we exited out the side and cut through the gardens, walking over to the carriage house to have dinner with Charlie.

I had offered to come over early and help him with the meal prep, but he told me that he was ready to go. So, as I walked through the gardens with Larry and George, we chatted along the way.

“These gardens,” Larry began. “They could be in a magazine photo shoot. They’re amazing.”

“They are, aren’t they?” I agreed. “Now you understand why Cordelia was married in these very gardens this spring.”

George pointed toward the back of the gardens where they led into a rolling lawn that ultimately gave way to the woods. “That’s where Brynn’s wedding ceremony will be held, right?”

“Correct,” I said.

“There are memories here,” George said as we walked along.

“Happy ones from the recent weddings, but also sad ones. A mother mourning for her child, and another female—her spirit is no longer roaming but I’m picking up on echoes of anger and frustration.

I’m figuring that’s the missing bride, Bridgette Ames. ”

To that, I simply nodded. I’d sworn to keep the information of how I, my sisters and grandmother, and the Daughters of Midnight had formed a Grand Coven to banish that particular entity from the grounds.

The popular theory was that after Bridgette Ames’ remains had been found, the haunting had ended.

And I was willing to allow that story to continue.

Now that we were closer, I spotted Charlie outside on his patio working at the grill.

A string of party lights was lit, and it went from the side of the carriage house to a tall pole outside of the patio.

It made the area look warm and welcoming.

The scent of the steaks grilling drifted over to us and my stomach rumbled.

“Didn’t eat lunch today again, did you?” George tsk-tsked at me.

“I plan to make up for it with dinner,” I told him.

Dinner was great. The four of us sat outside at the round metal table on the patio, and afterward we hung out there for a while talking.

Eventually the guys went back to the hotel to get some sleep, as Larry planned to be up at dawn to get exterior shots of the mansion and the grounds before any guests were up and wandering around.

I went inside with Charlie and helped him with the dishes and the clearing up.

“I like your friends,” he told me as I dried the final glass.

“I’d say that’s mutual,” I told him. “Dinner was great.”

He nodded. “I noticed you cleaned your plate and had two servings of salad. Forgot to eat lunch again, didn’t you?”

“Did George snitch on me?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I figured out a while ago that you tend to get so busy that you forget to eat.”

I shrugged. “Bad habit of mine.”

“You need someone to keep an eye on you, Skye.”

“I’ve managed okay so far.”

“You burn up a lot of energy with everything that you do. I’ve been reading about how psychic protection—which you would have to do all the time during your investigations—can be very draining for people.”

“You’ve been reading up on psychic protection?”

“And hauntings too,” he said. “I spoke to the librarian about it, and she recommended a few titles.”

“That’s why you were at the library,” I realized.

“I’ve been reading a lot lately. The head librarian knows her stuff.”

“You mean, Amanda Beaumont-Parker?”

“Yes.” Charlie nodded.

I blinked in surprise. “So, Amanda gave you books on psychic protection and hauntings?”

“And a couple on the Craft too.”

My jaw dropped. “Charlie Smythe, are you telling me that you’ve been reading books on witchcraft?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I figured if I was dating a Witch, the least I could do was to learn more about what makes you...you.”

Touched, I blinked rapidly trying not to let my emotions get the best of me.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked, brushing his hand through my hair.

“I’m terrific, and I’m absolutely crazy about you.” Reaching up, I planted one on him.

“It’s mutual,” he said, kissing me back.

Our kiss soon turned into more. Together, without breaking our kiss, we moved down the short hall to his bedroom.

***

Our Thursday night investigation went well.

We captured plenty of footsteps and a few doors opening and closing on their own, as well as footage of a ghost light in Charlie’s office—outside the hidden panel.

George said that he felt there were psychic impressions left behind at the mansion of a child who passed at a young age and his mother who grieved for him.

We also snagged an EVP recording of a child’s voice. It was difficult to tell if it was male or female, but the words were French, which privately made me think that we’d probably captured evidence of Jacques.

The next morning, I had a meeting with Philippe and Gabriella.

Comfortable in jeans, sneakers and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I was very revved up about what evidence we’d gathered.

However, the combination of that excitement and no sleep from being up all night investigating had me hitting the caffeine hard.

I chugged a can of cola from a vending machine while organizing my notes. Once that was done, I packed.

Gabriella and Philippe had invited me to the conference room on the ground floor of the family wing for the meeting, so I checked out of my room, slung my laptop and camera case over my shoulder, and rolled my suitcase to the eastern wing.

I was ushered through to the private section of the building by one of the hotel staff.

Once I was shown to the conference room, I quickly set up my laptop and cued it up so I could share some of the footage and play the EVP we had captured.

I placed a pen and notepad on the table to take notes and waited a few moments for the couple to arrive. My phone chimed, alerting me to a text that I saw was from Charlie telling me to have a good day, to stay out of trouble, and that he would call me later tonight.

He had meetings that morning, and of course there were weddings booked at the mansion all weekend, so he would be busy until Sunday. I texted back: Can’t promise to stay out of trouble. But I will be careful . Then I added a ghost emoji and a heart.

Don’t make me come after you, he replied.

Ooh, I texted back. That’s kinda hot!

I’m serious, Skye, he sent next.

With a grin I sent back: Baby, so am I...

“Good morning,” Gabriella said as she and her husband came into the conference room.

“Hey.” I tucked my phone away and smiled at the couple as they took their seats. “Thank you for having us to the mansion,” I began. “Last night was great!” I rotated my laptop, so the screen was toward the couple. “Let me show you what we found.”

As soon as I finished sharing the evidence, I watched the couple exchange significant looks with one another. I sat back and waited, but the couple remained silent, and Gabriella shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Okay,” I said, trying not to be too disappointed by their silence, “what you have here is a classic residual style of haunt. In other words, the house has held onto old memories. And in addition, you also have an intelligent haunt.”

“Intelligent?” Philippe asked.

“Meaning that the ghost can interact with you. It is aware of its surroundings.” When neither of them spoke, I continued. “It’s my theory that the ghost Camilla followed all those years that led her to the lost dowry, is not the same spirit that we interacted with last night.”

Gabriella narrowed her eyes. “Camilla’s stepson Jaime called the boy Claude. We think that was Claude Junior. The first-born son of Claude and Amelia Marquette.”

“The elder Claude was the big brother to the notorious Pierre-Michel? The one that left the letter about why he hid the dowry.”

“Correct,” she said. “After Pierre-Michel died, the rumors about the bride’s disappearance were pretty nasty, so Claude and Amelia packed up their children and returned to France.”

I nodded politely. “Well, George has a theory that Jacques is the child of a servant who may have passed away here at the mansion or on the grounds. I don’t suppose you have any records of who may have worked here at the mansion back in the day?”

Philippe glanced uneasily at Gabriella, and then suddenly I knew . “You already know who Jacques is—don’t you?”

Gabriella flinched.

I tossed up my hands in aggravation. “Why did you invite me up here to investigate then, if you aren’t willing to share what you already know about the haunting?”

“Since Danielle was an infant,” Philippe began, “we have heard the voice of a child. As our children grew older, they began to talk about a boy who played with them, and they called him Jacques.”

“Who was he?” I asked the couple and pulled the paper and pen to me so I could write the information down.

“It is complicated,” Philippe said.

“Tell me anyway.”

Philippe sighed.

I tapped my pen against the note pad. “Have you considered that the reason this spirit is still tethered to the physical world is because he was forgotten? That’s haunting 101. Ghosts tend to hang around if they have unfinished business.”

“She’s right,” Gabriella said to her husband.

“I’ll tell you what we know,” Philippe said.

He then explained how his grandfather Henri, an amateur genealogist, had discovered—while searching through an old family Bible from the family’s estate in France—that Claude and Pierre-Michel did have another sibling. A brother that died in 1828.

“And the boy died while living at the mansion?” I asked.

“It seems that was the case,” Philippe said. “We found it very odd as he wasn’t listed in the formal family tree. There was simply a hand-written entry of his birth and death in a Bible that had belonged to Pierre-Michel and Claude Senior’s mother.”