Ghost Huntress Book 6: The Journey by Marley Gibson Read Free Book Online Page A

Princess Diana waving at me.  First it was the soldier in the airport and then my idol.  Aunt Andi said I had to protect myself and maybe she’s right.  Maybe Patrick’s right. I am still new to this whole psychic thing, and perhaps not-so-friendly entities on the other side—ones I’ve had experiences with already—are up to no good.  So, I follow the group into the front foyer of Mrs. Flanders’s house in an “approach with caution” manner.
    The woman is very small with bright red hair and a gap in her front teeth.  But her smile is genuine and almost of a relieved nature.  “Oliver Bates, what a pleasure.  Please do come in,” she says.  Then she looks at Christian and her mouth drops open.  “Mr. Campbell, it’s a real honor to meet you.  I was at your gallery reading in Edinburgh last month.”
    Christian stretches his hand and takes Mrs. Flanders’ in his own.  “It was kind of you to invite me to your home.”
    Well, isn’t he a little pretentious?  What are the rest of us?  Your fans?
    Now, now…let’s see how this pans out, I hear my boyfriend say inside my thoughts.
    Patrick leads me into the house, squeezing my hand for reassurance.
    Once inside the stately manor, we take seats throughout her living room area.  The furniture is old and smells slightly of lemon Pledge or whatever the British equivalent is.  She offers us a plate of cookies—or biscuits, rather—that she calls Jammy Dodgers.  Jason and Patrick, of course, begin to scarf them down, but my appetite is non-existent.
    Mrs. Flanders turns to Christian.  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you’re here.  It’s been unbearable here since I connected with Alfred at your gallery reading.  I do believe the old chap followed us home and isn’t quite happy on the other side.”
    Oliver sits close to our host.  “Helen, dear, please fill the rest of our team in on the recent occurrences.”
    Yeah, Helen, I think.  Please do.   I had no inkling that the cases we’d be working on would have involved Christian’s past performances—err, readings with people.  After all, his website states that what he does is for “entertainment purposes only.”  How is it that we are somehow here to clean up a psychic mess he conjured?
    Again, Patrick squeezes my hand to calm me down.
    “I do believe there’s something demonic in the house,” she tells us, her fingers knitting together in her lap
    “Have you seen anything?” Celia asks, much to Christian’s chagrin.  Maddie gasps that Celia’s spoken out, glaring in my friend’s direction.  It’s clear from the look on Christian’s face that he would rather be the star of this investigation.  Good for Celia for not being intimidated by his alleged celebrity star on the rise.
    “We’ve heard pots and pans moving about in the kitchen.  Just the other night, the furnace turned on and started spouting out all this thick black smoke.  In the middle of the summer, can you imagine?”
    Oliver tents his fingers together.  “Since connecting with your deceased husband at Christian’s gallery, what have you and your daughter done differently here at the house?”
    The woman’s mouth drops open.  “That’s just it.  I did what Mr. Campbell suggested.”
    “Which was?” Oliver asks with great intent.
    “Why Amberly—that’s my daughter—went and purchased a Ouija board like Mr. Campbell uses in his gallery readings, and we tried to connect with Alfred right here in the house.”
    Disbelief coats me from head to toe at what I’m hearing. “You what?!” I shout out.
    Oliver snaps his head.  “Kendall!”
    “No, Oliver.  Those things are evil.”  I can hear Loreen right now telling me to stay nine miles away from them.  “Why would you bring something like that into your home, Mrs. Flanders?  By using something it, you’re opening yourself up to possibilities that could be coming from anywhere; you don’t even know.”
    Christian clicks his