Free A Haunting Is Brewing: A Haunted Home Renovation and a Witchcraft Mystery Novella by Juliet Blackwell

training, so a lot of what I do is by the seat of my pants. I told Bronwyn we’d be okay on our own because if this is what I think it is, her coven sisters might be at risk. They’re open to supernatural influences—it’s part of what makes them so great. But in situations like this when I’m not sure we’ll be entirely in control of whatever forces are in that house . . . well, anyway, I think it’s better like this. I think what we need for backup will be the SFPD.”
    I nodded. “So, it sounds like you’re cooking up a plan.”
    “Not a plan, exactly. But I’m thinking we should be there on Halloween night, at the fund-raiser. The line between the worlds is thin on Samhain, and since it’s also the anniversary of when Reginald Spooner hung himself, it seems the natural time to make contact with any spirits inhabiting that house.”
    Great
, I thought.
Just great
.
    Oscar-the-pig snorted and bumped my leg with his head.
    “I really do like this little guy,” I said, scratching him behind his ears.
    “Here’s the thing about Oscar,” said Lily. “He can be helpful, as strange as that may sound. He can often sense things.”
    “Sense things? You mean ghosts?”
    She nodded. “As well as other things.”
    I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. “What kinds of things would those be?”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, casual-like, as she started to hang up our castoffs. “You know, spirits, demons, that sort of thing.”
    “Demons?”
I blanched. I might be an up-and-coming ghost buster, but demons were out of my league.
Way
out of my league.
    “I’m just saying, we should go in prepared. As my friend Herve was saying, it’s unusual to find poppets representing the dead. Depending on Reginald’s motives, well . . . there might be something dangerous at hand. Oscar might be able to help us figure out what we’re dealing with.”
    I was tempted to throw up my hands and leave this conundrum to the police. But then . . . I thought of Adam standing at the window of Spooner House, looking out at the world, hurt and confused, and trying to call his mom. That forlorn image spurred me on.
    This is what I get for volunteering
, I thought. As my father always said: “No good deed goes unpunished.”
    “Now that you mention it . . . my dog’s pretty good at ghost sightings, too,” I said. “Maybe we should take our pet brigade to the house, see what they make of the situation.”
    “My thoughts, exactly.”
    ***
    Lily, Oscar, Dog, and I arrived at Spooner House to find a shrine had sprung up on the porch. There were shiny helium balloons, cuddly teddy bears, and garish posters written in sparkly glue: RIP ADAM ; GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN . A large banner had a drawing of the comedy and tragedy masks, both weeping, along with a quote from Shakespeare:
“Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.”
    “The quote’s . . . nice,” said Lily, in what I was learning was her funny way of understatement.
    I nodded.
Theater types.
    Duff and Byron were sitting on the steps; Tess had her head on her knees. Riley was taking pictures of the shrine with her bubble gum pink iPhone. None were talking.
    “Hi, guys,” I said. “This is Lily Ivory . . . and this is Oscar, and Dog.”
    The students’ glum mood was momentarily lifted as they interacted with the animals—especially Oscar-the-pig, of course.
    “You look familiar,” said Riley to Lily, still petting Dog, who was leaning up against her. Dog didn’t realize how big—or how heavy—he was.
    “I own Aunt Cora’s Closet, down the street,” Lily said. “Maybe I’ve seen you there?”
    “Ohmigod, I love that store!” said Tess. “In fact . . . I was planning on buying a special vintage dress for when Adam and I went away.”
    At these words her lower lip started to quiver, tears filled her eyes, and she put her head back down on