Mistletoe & Hauntings Page 8

  Two

  T he breakfast area downstairs was set buffet-style compliments of their hostess. There were eggs—boiled, fried and scrambled—fried tomatoes and meat—haggis, blood pudding, and bacon—all in one area and different types of cheeses in another. Sliced bread and scones of all kinds were in baskets nearby with small bowls of condiments next to them.

  Hans stood next to Sera as he surveyed the options. “Not too shabby,” he said.

  Sera nodded, staring at the meat selection. She was hungry though not enough to try everything. “I want to be adventurous, but I’m not sure I can stomach the blood pudding.”

  He nodded absently in agreement as he stacked his plate with bacon.

  Sera glanced toward the door, awaiting the rest of the group. So far, two were missing.

  Josie who’d finished making her plate paused in front of them. “Where’s Daniel and Gretchen?” she asked. Sera noticed she had dark circles under her eyes.

  Hans shrugged. “On their own schedule as usual,” he said.

  “But they’ll miss breakfast.”

  “So they will,” he agreed.

  Sera frowned at the clock on the wall. Josie was right. Breakfast would be ending soon. She reached into her satchel to check her cell. No messages. “We’ll give them a few more minutes and then I’ll go knock.” Sera decided.

  Gordon wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Maybe they’ve skipped breakfast and gone straight for dessert.”

  “Eww!” Josie said, throwing her hair in the man’s face as she turned away.

  Hans glanced at Sera and grimaced.

  “No one wants to think of such things this early, Gordon.” Sera gently chided. “Now fill up your plate and find a seat, you’re holding up the line.”

  Gordon shrugged and moved on, loading up his plate with scones and jam, then scurrying off. Sera scooped out an egg, some bacon and put it on her sandwich. Hans followed suit.

  They found a quiet corner to sit in, and Sera set her plate down and started to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” Hans asked, grabbing her by the wrist as she passed.

  “I’m going to go knock on your sister’s door.”

  “Absolutely not. Your food will get cold. Sit and eat,” he said forcefully. “It’s their own fault. They’re grown-ups, and they can either be on time or miss out.”

  Sera sat down and picked up her fork, taken aback by Hans display of dominance. He wasn’t usually so outspoken. His sister and Daniel certainly brought something out in him.

  By ten, the gang had all finished eating. Sera had ventured out of her comfort zone and tried the haggis and blood pudding after all. The haggis was fine. The blood pudding was not something she’d order twice. Thankfully, Gordon ate her helping. The only ones who hadn't joined them were Daniel Brodey and Gretchen Dressler. Sera hoped they would put in an appearance soon. Speak of the devil, Daniel knocked at the door before entering.

  “Mornin', Mr. Brodey. How are you?” Sera asked.

  “Fine,” he said and flashed a politician’s smile. Uneasiness stirred inside Sera.

  “Ready for a day of exploring?”

  Daniel nodded politely.

  “First stop is the museum to learn about Robert Louis Stevenson then we’re off to lunch and the Greyfriars Kirkyard. I’m afraid you missed breakfast.”

  “That's all right. Gretchen and I had coffee and protein bars. We’re good.”

  More footsteps made her glance up, and she saw it was Gretchen coming down the stairs.

  “Good morning,” Gretchen greeted her back.

  “I knocked on your door last night to check on you, but you didn’t answer.”

  Gretchen looked at Daniel and smiled, “Sorry. Danny and I decided to go back out for a bit of a wild night on the town. I’m sorry I didn’t invite you, but you seem to be getting close with my brother, and he doesn’t exactly approve of the places I frequent.”

  Sera frowned. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but your brother and I are just friends and what do you mean. What sort of places?”

  Gretchen grinned, “You’ll have to come out with us in London and we’ll show you.” She smiled at Daniel and added, “Right, sweetie?”

  Daniel smiled.

  “Oh, no.” Josie interrupted. “My tennis shoes are still wet from yesterday,” she complained. “I’m gonna have to wear dress shoes.”

  “I told you to bring a pair of practical boots,” Kyla scolded.

  Josie rolled her eyes. “Sera, can I borrow your red chucks?”

  “Of course. They’re by the door,” Sera said and pointed. Sera was wearing boots, yoga pants, and a cable knit sweater—she was all about comfort. Hans had gone the opposite route and opted for dress pants and a tailored shirt. Did that man ever dress down?

  As they headed up the close for the Royal Mile, Sera saw Daemon Wraith coming towards them. He’d parked his motorcycle off to the side. He wore darker jeans this time and the same leather jacket. He pulled off his helmet and held it at his side.

  “Is that the stranger who let us in last night?” Josie asked her.

  “He's very handsome,” Kyla said, “and I think he’s smiling at you, Popescu.”

  “Oh, he's just friendly,” she said without explaining who Daemon really was.

  “Sera,” he called and waved as he passed them, forging ahead to bust ghosts she guessed.

  Mind you, there had been a certain level of chemistry between them last night. She mentally fanned herself. What was his mind reading range? Not that it mattered. He was Mallory’s ex, and besides, they were only going to be here for another two days. She turned to find Hans staring at her, and her fingertips sizzled in warning. Something was up. She looked around but saw no immediate threats. Hmm.

  Oh, well, they were only a few blocks from the Writers’ Museum. She picked up her pace.

  At last they came to the Makars' Court: a peaceful square with beautifully inscribed flagstones where the Writers’ Museum also known as Lady Stair’s House lay hidden away from the main streets, she noted it was a tall and narrow 17th century house made of stone, and it jaunted out in certain places giving it a romantic fairytale vibe. It had windows and a balcony, and she’d heard it had a fine view of the Princes Street Gardens. The most spectacular part though, in her opinion, was the round Scotch turret. The museum celebrated Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson.

  “Where do we pay?” Josie asked.

  “It’s free,” her friend reminded her.

  “I love Scotland,” Josie said as they stepped inside the entryway which happened to be the landing of the turret’s spiral staircase. There were signs pointing both up and down. “I feel like I’m in a children’s story,” she said.

  “This place isn’t that big,” Hans said.

  “Maybe we should split up.” Sera suggested receiving an approving nod from Hans.

  “We’ll go up,” Josie said.

  Sera looked in the direction of the narrow winding staircase that led to both the second floor and the printing press on the third floor.

  “Just don’t trip,” Sera shouted to the girls.

  Daniel and Gretchen had also headed up seemingly for the middle floor, hand in hand.

  Sera chose to go downstairs instead to the basement of the museum where Stevenson’s collection was kept. “Hey, Hans. Come over here a minute, will you?” She snapped a picture of the giant cabinet in front of her as he came over to her. “What's up, Sera?”

  “I was thinking Deacon Brodie's Tavern for lunch. What do you think?”

  He grinned. “You mean the Deacon Brodie that made this very cabinet?” His voice lowered to a conspiratorial tone. “I think the gang would love that.”

  Deacon Brodie's Tavern was a storied pub that had been named after a respected artisan carpenter who became a member of the town council, but was hanged in 1788 following the discovery of his double identity as a gambler and burglar. There were rumors that Stevenson had gotten the
idea for The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde from the cabinet-maker-by-day-criminal-by-night known as Deacon Brodie.

  “Do you really think this plain cabinet was the thing that sparked the whole idea for the book?”

  Hans looked around and frowned. “I guess it was the catalyst. Stevenson told me once he dreamed Jekyll swallowed a drug as he was being pressed into a cabinet which made him change into another being,”

  “Told you once? Do you talk to the dead too now?”

  “Sorry.” He laughed. “You know what I mean. He told a reporter. A man by the name of Rick Wilson, I believe. I read Wilson’s book. Anyway, shall we finish perusing? I’d like to see the second floor.”

  Sera nodded. “I’ll meet you there. I’m gonna do a quick lap to the top and see if the girls are good with the tavern too.” They walked up the stairs, pausing and waiting at certain points so others could pass. The passage was very narrow and the stair treads short.

  As they approached the second-floor doorway, a strange feeling came over Sera, and she shivered.

  Hansen must have noticed because he reached out for her shoulder. “Sera? Are you okay?”

  She nodded, feeling grateful for his attention. “I’m okay, but my gut is screaming. Something is up.”

  “Maybe I should come with you.”

  “No, I’ve got it,” she told him.

  She was a witch after all. She could take care of herself.

  Anyway, there was no need to be nervous. It was daytime, and the place was swarming with people.

  Hansen squeezed her shoulder before releasing it. “Be careful then,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  The stairwell cleared and separated with Hansen exiting to the second floor.

  Sera continued up the white stone spiral staircase to the third floor, where a small landing allowed people to view the printing press through a glassed-in area. The landing was so tiny that it could only fit maybe four people at a time.

  Where was everyone?

  “Hello?” She called out.

  No answer.

  To her right was a wooden ladder leading up to a hatch—the sort you’d see aboard a catamaran or a small vessel. And to the left was a doorway that led into a different part of the museum. It was carpeted, and the floors looked uneven. Sera noticed a blue velvet rope hanging loosely and wondered if the area was cordoned off at times. Hmm. Regardless, she continued walking. The other members had to be around here somewhere.

  She turned down another corridor. The floor felt a little spongy in places and groaned as she put weight on it, and she considered turning around. Then, she heard urgent whispers, two voices, but she couldn’t make out who they were or what they were saying.

  She rapidly made her way toward the noise. It sounded like a lover’s dispute. She hurried toward the voices, coming from behind a closed door.

  “You have to tell them! You can’t hide this forever.” The female scolded.

  “I will. I swear. Just not yet.”

  “Well, when?”

  Sera gripped the knob. It sounded like Selene and Ricky, but she couldn’t be sure. She wanted to open the door and demand they spill whatever secret they were discussing, but realistically, it wasn’t her business. Even if they were young and foolish and full of bad decisions. A strange feeling inside told her to mind her own business. Instead, she hurried back the way she’d come past the printing press. She’d just rounded the first turn on her descent down the turret’s staircase when a bang above her sounded. It was the hatch to the floor above being moved aside. She was sure of it. What was it with her members exploring out of bounds areas? She’d maybe need to let Nelle know before one of them got the group in trouble.

  She paused in her departure for the moment and waited to see who it was. Only the pair—whoever they were—were taking their time. A moment later she had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. She could hear kissing sounds. It seemed this couple had found themselves a nice romantic spot. Sera peeked her head out and caught the back of Daniel Brodey’s jacket. Gretchen had been downstairs with her earlier, but she must have snuck up the other way. Sera knew there were two stairwells. Then she heard a voice that didn't belong to Gretchen saying, “Oh, Daniel. You’re the sweetest. I can’t wait until we’re all alone at your place in London.”

  Well, well, well. It seemed Daniel was two-timing Gretchen. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that he was drinking too much and getting them kicked out of bars. He had to be a sleezeball too?

  She started to step back. Then with a sickening sensation of falling, remembered she’d been on a narrow spiral staircase.

  Her life flashed before her eyes as the shocking sensation of falling through the air ricocheted through her body. She screamed and flailed for something to stop her fall. Then a scorching pain seared through her as she thwacked hard against the stonewall behind her. Her head and back taking the brunt of it. Jim and Lily rushed out of the second-floor doorway.

  “Sera! Sera! Are you okay?” Jim yelled, as he ran toward her.

  They grabbed ahold of her arms and hoisted her upward.

  She felt lightheaded and dizzy, but before she could answer, Josie rushed down the stairs. Daniel was noticeably not with her. “What’s going on? What happened?”

  She was followed closely by Ricky and Selene, who shouted. “Sera! Sera!” She reached out for her and grabbed her wrist.

  “Let’s get her outside,” Ricky said, coming from behind.

  “No!” Sera held out her hand, then rubbed her head. “I’m okay, everyone. I just lost my footing. I’m fine, I swear. Everything is intact except for my pride.”

  She quietly moved—or rather slunk—past their unsure faces and entered the second floor. It was the largest by far which she was thankful for. She needed a moment to collect herself before she faced anyone else, namely Gretchen or Hans. She eventually ran into the gang in the Robert Burns room. The book club still seemed to be enjoying themselves, so she didn't interrupt. Instead, she moved to the next room, looking over some of Sir Walter Scott’s private letters. She figured she’d give everyone another twenty minutes or so, and then they’d head on to Deacon Brodie’s Tavern for lunch before the City of the Dead Tour.

  Kyla and Josie came into the room, and when Josie saw her, she said, “There you are. We were just wondering about lunch.”

  Sera stood up and said to the two young friends, “Yes, sorry. I forgot. That’s actually why I was headed upstairs when I fell.” She shot Josie a direct look before going on, “We’re going to have lunch at Deacon Brodie’s Tavern.”

  “Awesome,” Josie said, not showing any sign of guilt. “I was hoping we’d get there! Is that really where Deacon Brodie lived?”

  “No, I think he lived at Brodie’s Close where the Deacon Brodie café is,” Kyla added.

  Daniel and Gretchen came walking in the room, smiling and holding hands now. Daniel clearly had Gretchen fooled. Josie noticed that, too, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Hey, Daniel,” she said. “We were just talking about the Deacon.”

  “That’s where we’re having lunch,” Sera added. “which we should probably get to if we want to avoid the lunch hour rush. Where are the others?”

  Gretchen pointed behind her. “They’re already waiting outside.”

  “Great. Let’s go,” Sera said, motioning for them all to move.

  “Man, that place was awesome,” Josie said as they walked. “Can you believe the Deacon was nothing more than a common thief?”

  Daniel cleared his throat again. “He was more of a burglar, really.”

  “Yeah, he robbed his own customers. What a jerk!”

  Sera couldn’t disagree. The Deacon had made impressions of the keys of his wealthy clients and robbed them at night. It seemed low.

  “How’d they finally catch him anyway?” Selene asked.

  “He got a little overzealous and tried to steal from the Excise Office in Chessel's Court.” Daniel replied.

  �
�And then he was hanged by his own device—the gallows,” Kyla said with a grin.

  Josie laughed and said, “He did not come up with that invention. That was just a rumor.”

  “You know, some say the Deacon actually got away.” Hans interjected as they stepped outside into the courtyard. “He was quite connected.”

  Gretchen elbowed her brother in the ribs, “Stop teasing. Everyone said he was hanged!”

  “No. His friends claimed he was hanged, but they were his friends, and they could have lied.”

  Daniel frowned and said, “That’s preposterous. He’s buried just a half mile from here.”

  “He’s just kidding around. Ignore him,” Gretchen said.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I heard he paid a surgeon to insert a metal pipe inside his throat, so that his windpipe couldn’t be crushed, but the plan failed,” Gordon added.

  “That’s even more ridiculous,” Daniel repeated, his face was getting redder by the second.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I heard that too, only I heard he paid a witch to cast a spell to resurrect him,” Hans said. “Then fled to America.”

  Gretchen put a hand on his arm and said, “Now, Daniel, don't get all worked up. And Hans, knock it off. You know Daniel is a distant relative of the Brodie family, and you’re just trying to get a rise out of him.”

  “Really?” Kyla frowned and said, “You’re related to him?”

  “Let’s just drop it—”

  Before anyone could respond, they heard a commotion at the far end of the courtyard near the Bank Street stairs. A young woman, in high red heels and a short dark wig, wearing a trench coat had paused to point a finger at them. She led a small crowd holding signs.

  “Who are they?!” Kyla whispered as she elbowed Sera.

  “Huh?” Sera looked over at her confused.