Page 22 of Air Of Mystery
“I’ll try and get back to you later this week.” I eased back closer to George. “Right now, I have a job to finish up.”
Charlie nodded and stepped back. George drew me gently back inside and shut the door behind us. “Who was that?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re the psychic, shouldn’t you already know?”
George gave me a look. “That evasive, sarcastic shit might work on someone else, Skye. It doesn’t work on me.”
“He’s just a guy I know.”
George stared at me, or perhapsthroughme would be a more accurate description. “You two had an argument recently...somewhere by the water.”
“Stay out of my head, George.”
“Whatever happened, you scared the hell out of him, Skye. That man’s a soldier; in fact the word ‘warrior’ is shouting in my head right now. He’s seen combat and a lot of ugliness in this world…and he doesn’t spook easily. What did you do?”
“Damn it,” I muttered. George’s words made me feel horribly guilty.
“You pulled a glamour.” George blinked, coming back to himself.
“Well, I—”
“Now, I’m no Witch,” he said, cutting me off, “but evenIknow that you aren’t supposed to go tossing around flashy magick like that in public.”
Sticking my hands in my jacket pockets, I winced. It was not unlike getting a lecture from my father. While George was old enough to be mine, we’d been friends for years. Opening my mouth to talk, I was surprised when nothing came out.
For once in my life, I didn’t know what to say.
“Skye?” George patted my shoulder when I stayed silent. “When you’re ready to talk about it, you let me know. I may not have all the answers, but I can listen.”
Behind us in the bar area, Larry snapped the last of his cases closed. “I’m ready to start hauling everything out,” he announced.
“Okay,” I called back to Larry. To George I quietly said, “Thanks.”
“This was a great night!” Larry said enthusiastically as he lifted a case. “I’m not much on the metaphysical like you and George are, but I felt something tonight—a feminine energy I guess you’d call it. I smelled lavender a couple of times too, but I wondered if it was from an air freshener or something.”
George looked pointedly at him. “I smelled that too, when I was upstairs in the attic space. I remarked on it as I audio recorded myself walking around. When you go and review the footage tomorrow, Skye, be sure and note that.”
“I will,” I assured him. “Now, let’s get all packed up before the owner arrives. Oh, and George? Don’t forget your pie.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The footage we’d captured at the restaurant in the historic district of old St. Charles was compelling. In fact, Larry and I went back a week later to share our findings with the owner, Jim, who had also agreed to be on camera for the reveal. And he absolutelylovedit.
He confessed to me during the reveal that he had privately wondered if there was a motherly type of presence in the house. I recommended that he and the staff try addressing her politely in the future, and to simply acknowledge her whenever she made herself known.
Jim promised that they would, and he was so pleased with the investigation and our results that he insisted on Larry and I staying for dinner—on the house. Which was fun and the food was terrific. Afterward, Larry wanted another piece of that coconut cream pie, and I tried the peach cobbler.
Once we finished up our meal and drove back to Alton, it was late. Larry dropped me at the house, I waved goodbye and let myself inside. Hauling the equipment cases with me, I bounded up the main stairs to my third-floor attic apartment, full of enthusiasm.
By the time I added the footage of the reveal and Jim’s reaction to the previous material, I estimated that we would have enough to maketwoepisodes for my YouTube channel. After changing into a pair of ratty sweats and an old shirt, I stayed up all night, chugged way too much coffee, and worked on the footage, editing and fine tuning both of the future episodes.
Somewhere around four o’clock in the morning, I had to stop. I worked so long that I’d given myself a headache and also, I wasstarving.
The minute I opened the door to my attic apartment I could smell that Kenna was already baking for the day. With the hopes of being able to snag some sort of breakfast from my sister, I trudged downstairs.
The closer I got to the main floor, the hungrier I became. Whatever culinary magick my sister was conjuring up smelled amazing.
“Morning,” I said, swinging into to the kitchen.
