Witch of Christmas Past Read Free Page A

would seem I have forgotten my manners since joining the ranks of the dearly departed. Thy name be Zechariah Osborne,” he said, getting to his feet and removing his black hat.
    That’s when it dawned on me that my great great great grandfather’s name was Zechariah Osborne.
    What was he doing hanging around the old homestead?
    I knew the Osborne mansion was haunted. Growing up in the house, I’d seen my share of ghosts, but I’d never seen Zechariah.
    “Um … what can I do for you?” I asked.
    “I’m having a very difficult time getting through to that boy in the house, and his insane chatter is pushing me right to the brink of madness. I understand it is my duty to be the guardian of the Osborne witches, but if I have to listen to much more of than boy’s incomprehensible mumbling, I’ll have to take the plunge and jump into the light.”
    “Wait a minute! Did you say you were our guardian?”
    Zechariah nodded. “That be the truth of it.”
    “Well, where were you when I was getting run over by a truck?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip to put some emphasis on my displeasure with his performance as guardian.
    “One cannot always save a body if they be an imbecile. I whispering in thou ear that thou should not step into the street at that moment, but thou were too busy gazing at that black witchery box thou holds on thy person. You could not hear thy words.” He shrugged.
    I figured he was probably right, and because I had no intention of dwelling on that part of my life, or death, I changed the subject.
    “What do you mean by his insane mumbling? Is Uncle Aaron casting spells?”
    Zechariah shook his head. “Tis no spell I know of. To my ears his words are akin to infant gibberish. The boy does not even put his strange music box on at night.”
    “You mean his stereo?”
    “I have no understanding nor do I know its name, but it was soothing at times. Now we dwell in silence as the moon makes its way through the night.
    “I’ll see what I can find out,” I told him.
    “Thou efforts would be a fine deed, but there be another matter needing attention.”
    “And what might that be?” I asked, folding my arms in front of me, fully prepared to defend myself against whatever slander this ancestor might toss my way.
    “Have you forgotten about the lost?”
    I squinted, as if the act would help me understand what the hell it was he was talking about.
    “The lost?” I echoed.
    “The dead and Mistress Stella.”
    “Of course I haven’t forgotten,” I came back, making sure to give him a roll of my eyes. “I just solved several deaths during Halloween, and I am still looking for my Granny.”
    The truth was, it had taken me a couple of weeks to help the ghosts that suddenly appeared at my bedside on Halloween, but I’d managed.
    Mafia guy seemed content when we discovered that his killer had died years ago and he’d willingly gone into the light. It had taken a little more to convince the red headed ghost boy to cross over.
    He wanted his body found and his murderer brought to justice.
    Ayden hadn’t been too keen on the idea of doing a search based on the directions of a ghost child, but I’d finally convinced him. The boy’s body had been discovered in a cave on the north side of the island. He’d been murdered decades before.
    The boy and his killer were from Seattle. Dan Brink was the man’s name. He’d used Mystique Island as his dumping ground. Two other bodies had been discovered in the same location.
    It was a small comfort to know that Brink had drowned at sea in the 90s, and thanks to the biggest gossip of the underworld, AKA Julius, I also knew the man was burning in Hell.
    “As far as Granny goes, that one has been a lot more difficult. We have no idea where she is. All I know is that she is not dead,” I explained.
    Zechariah shook his head. “Hopefully Mistress Stella has been blessed with more intelligence than thou.”
    Well, that was uncalled for.
    “I’m doing my best