Page 1 of Air Of Mystery
PROLOGUE
There’s a saying that well-behaved women rarely make history. Which sounds about right to me, because honestly, I don’t think anyone would ever call mewell behaved.
Over the years I’ve been called clever but rude, aggressive, driven, obstinate, obsessive, demanding, and of course...a bitch. Normally, I’d argue about the bitch thing, but if you switch out the B for a W…then you’d be right. Throughout history strong-willed women have been labeled in all sorts of uncomplimentary ways.
Yes, I am impatient, but I’m also creative. I push myself hard, demanding excellence, and because of that I’ve enjoyed some success. Willing and eager to investigate the paranormal, I will march straight into places that others wouldn’t dare—all in the pursuit of knowledge and truth.
My name is Skye Golden. I live in a historic, yellow brick home and my family are known as theWitches On The Hill. I am a modern magickal practitioner and the second born of four sisters—elemental Witches all of us.
As to my personal natural element, I am aligned with air. While the element can’t be seen, itisthe very breath within us and is essential for our survival nonetheless. Representing wisdom, intelligence and clarity air encourages open-mindedness, adaptability and innovation. It is also the element linked to communication...so take a wild guess what I majored in while I was in college.
If you’re wondering how I got into spooky? Well, the truth is that I began investigating ghosts and hauntings while I was a teenager. Growing up in Alton, Illinois—one of the most haunted towns in the United States—there was plenty to digin to. In fact, it was irresistible. Besides our town’s ghostly reputation, there were also the well-documented hauntings of the Marquette Mansion some fifteen miles down the Great River Road to consider.
My town, located on the banks of the Mississippi River, also has the Native American legend of the Piasa Bird, a history of river pirates, and all other sorts of interesting beasties. Which makes sense to me as we’re right next to the spot where the two largest rivers on the continent meet.
Some experts claim that all the paranormal activity is caused by a convergence of ley lines. However, my personal theory is that the entire area is an interdimensional cross-rip…or a tear in the fabric of reality, if you will.Thiswas the basis of starting my paranormal investigation group and my YouTube channel several years ago. The program began as a dare to myself and quickly morphed into a popular and successful show.
The first big break had come from when my paranormal team and I discovered human remains in the crawl space of a home we were investigating. Its renters were convinced their home was haunted and we’d managed to document some pretty impressive events. The real hot spot of the home had been the basement; when we discovered a crawl space, I shimmied myself up in there armed with a flashlight, my phone, and an EMF detector.
Not gonna lie, I had recoiled violently when I saw those bones sticking partially out of the dirt floor of the crawl space. Fortunately, no one saw me whack my head on the floor joist above. Because that would have ruined my tough-as-nails image.
Instead, I swore at the pain and took dozens of photos with my cell. Afterward I scooted my skinny ass out of there as quickly as possible and told Larry, my tech guy, to call the police.
We were able to document the whole thing for my YouTube channel, and eventually those discovered remains cracked a decades-long missing person’s case and helped the police track down a murderer.
That had earned me the respect of the local police department and the attention of the press, but I was mostly glad to have given validation to the experiences of the family who’d been renting the property. They’d been traumatized by the haunting and with our discovery of human remains, they decided to move out almost immediately after we had wrapped up the investigation.
When the family was hit with a fee for breaking their lease, I discreetly covered it myself. It was the least I could do for them.
My subscriber numbers jumped astronomically again when I was able to land an interview with some of the witnesses to the violent haunting of ‘the Reaver’ a couple of years ago. The Reaver, aka Emile Francois, was a local river pirate from the 1800s. He’d terrorized the area for years until at last he was captured, tried, hung—and finally buried in unconsecrated ground.
It seems his spirit hadn’t been pleased when part of his treasure was found. The shocking discovery of buried silver and gold coins, and jewels in Ames Crossing had made international news. Spice from the local legend that the treasure was cursed only added to the interest and the intrigue. The vlog episodes about the Reaver had put me on the international map.
No pirate pun intended.
Now here I was, almost thirty years old with a successful career, and living rent free in the converted attic apartment of my family’s ancestral home. My family was happy, and my sisters were pairing off faster than you could sayabracadabra…leaving me the odd one out.
Then again, I was a little odd anyway.
I always figured when the right guy came along, I would know. My intuition was usually spot on, so I kept my eyes open, watching and waiting for Mr. Right. Then wouldn’t you know it? Ididmeet someone—a very interesting and attractive man. But it seemed that between life in general and Cordelia and Kenna’s adventures, any chance of us getting to know each other better kept being side-tracked.
Which was a damn shame because Charlie Smythe was one intriguing man. We’d first met almost a year ago at the third annual Marquette Mansion Halloween Masquerade Ball. I’d been flattered by his interest. He had blue eyes that missed nothing, and despite the formal suit he wore, he moved quietly, with the lethality of a warrior.
My first thought when I saw him had been...Oh. My. Goddess.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said.
Confidently, I stuck out my hand. “Skye Golden.”
“Charlie Smythe,” he replied. Taking my hand in his, he lingered. “That’s a hell of a dress, Ms. Golden.”
The comment made me grin. “I thought it was appropriate in more ways than one.” My masquerade dress had a black velvet tank style top that was cinched in at the waist with a silver ribbon. The skirt of the dress was long and slightly poufy, featuring horror-style white ghostly faces that had been screen printed over the crinkly black fabric. It was elegant and very Halloween all at the same time.
Charlie didn’t smile at my statement. Instead, he looked me over slowly. Deliberately. “Phantoms for Halloween? Is that what you mean?” he asked.
“I do an online paranormal investigation show,” I explained.
“Oh. Haunted houses and so forth?” he asked.
