Ghouls Gone Wild

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for the Ghost Hunter Mysteries

  Ghouls Just Haunt to Have Fun

  “M.J.’s back and reluctantly ready for her close-up in the latest funny, yet chilling, adventure by gifted storyteller Laurie. . . . Goose bumps and ghosts are plentiful in this creepy, utterly entertaining murder mystery.”

  —Romantic Times (4˝ stars)

  “[A] fun, suspenseful, fast-paced paranormal mystery. All the elements combine to make this entry in the Ghost Hunter series a winner.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “A hair-raising tale that will keep readers engrossed in the ghost-driven action. Ghouls Just Haunt to Have Fun has as much dark and danger-filled action as ever, and introduces a wonderful new character that readers will be hoping to see more of in the future. This is a must read in the series!”

  —Darque Reviews

  “A lighthearted, humorous haunted hotel horror thriller kept focused by ‘graveyard’ serious M.J.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  Demons Are a Ghoul’s Best Friend

  “Ms. Laurie has penned a fabulous read and packed it with ghost-hunting action at its best. With a chilling mystery, a danger-filled investigation, a bit of romance, and a wonderful dose of humor, there’s little chance that readers will be able to set this book down.”

  —Darque Reviews

  “M.J.’s first-person worldview is both unique and enticing. With truly likable characters, plenty of chills, and even a hint of romance, real-life psychic Laurie guarantees that readers are in for a spooktacularly thrilling ride.”

  —Romantic Times (4˝ stars)

  What’s a Ghoul to Do?

  “A bewitching book blessed with many blithe spirits. Will leave you breathless.”

  —Nancy Martin, author of the Blackbird Sisters Mysteries

  “Laurie’s new sleuth, M. J. Holliday, is a winner. . . . Laurie makes everything that her characters do ring true, which can be a feat in a paranormal story. This highly entertaining book has humor and wit to spare.”

  —Romantic Times

  Praise for the Psychic Eye Mysteries

  “Victoria Laurie has crafted a fantastic tale in . . . [her] latest Psychic Eye Mystery. There are few things in life that upset Abby Cooper, but ghosts and her parents feature high on her list . . . giving the reader a few real frights and a lot of laughs. . . .”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “Fabulous. . . . Fans will highly praise this fine ghostly murder mystery.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “A great new series . . . plenty of action.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “An invigorating entry into the cozy mystery realm. . . . I cannot wait for the next book.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  “A fresh, exciting addition to the amateur sleuth genre.”

  —J. A. Konrath, author of Dirty Martini

  “Worth reading over and over again.”

  —Bookviews

  The Ghost Hunter Mystery Series

  What’s a Ghoul to Do?

  Demons Are a Ghoul’s Best Friend

  Ghouls Just Haunt to Have Fun

  The Psychic Eye Mystery Series

  Abby Cooper, Psychic Eye

  Better Read Than Dead

  A Vision of Murder

  Killer Insight

  Crime Seen

  Death Perception

  Doom with a View

  OBSIDIAN

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  First published by Obsidian, an imprint of New American Library,

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  First Printing, March 2010

  Copyright Š Victoria Laurie, 2010 All rights reserved

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18558-2

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  For my cousin, Hilary Laurie,

  the funnier half of the Tee-Vee Variety Show

  Acknowledgments

  Most of my novels are inspired by some paranormal event that I’ve personally experienced or heard about and this particular story is no exception.

  About four years ago I had the scariest and most “real” dream I can ever recall. I vividly remember being in a cold, damp house that was rapidly decaying. The walls were gray and crumbling, the floor was littered with debris, and the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt claustrophobic.

  I don’t quite remember the beginning of that dream—how I came to be in that exact spot—but I do remember my sense of panic. I knew I had to get a mother and her two children out of that house, but they were hidden away in a room that I couldn’t find. I could hear them, though—the laughter of the children at play, and their mother’s voice in the background—and my panic worsened.

  About the time that I finally found the door to the room they were in, someone came into the hallway where I was. It was a woman and evil wafted off her in thick heavy waves. I remem
ber being acutely afraid of her, and I shouted in alarm for her to leave the children alone. I know she thought very little of my efforts to warn them; in fact, I knew intuitively that she thought very little of me in general.

  And her presence only made my own panic mount. The mother and her children seemed completely unaware of her presence and I just knew the little ones were in danger.

  But I wasn’t able to warn them—because in the next instant, I woke up. It was the middle of the night and my heart was still racing from the dream. I can remember thinking, “That was bizarre!” and I probably chalked the whole thing up to the bean burrito I’d had for dinner. But the dream lingered in my thoughts, and I never really did get back to sleep.

  The next night I was watching one of my favorite shows—Most Haunted. It comes on Friday nights usually around ten p.m. and it is one spooky hour, let me tell you! The premise of the show is that a team of British paranormal investigators travel around Britain to the most haunted locations they can find and document anything that’s willing to go bump in the night on camera.

  This particular episode was a two parter—I’d missed the previous show, but they ran a few clips of what had taken place. The team was at a remote farm and there were two separate buildings that they were investigating. One was an old crumbling barnlike structure; the other was an abandoned house. A family lived in another house nearby—a father, a mother, and their two young daughters—and they were quite frightened by the negative energy that seemed to permeate the two crumbling buildings and the surrounding grounds.

  The night I tuned in, the team was investigating the abandoned house. The barn was said to have been the place where a coven of witches killed the small children they’d kidnapped from the surrounding countryside. The head of their coven was said to be a particularly evil and cruel woman, and it was thought she liked to torture the children before she sacrificed them.

  I remember a shivery chill going up my spine as the clips of the previous night’s investigation rolled across the TV screen—but that was nothing to what I felt the moment the Most Haunted team entered the abandoned house. The camera zoomed in on the crumbling gray walls, the debris-littered floors, and the claustrophobic feel that permeated the place.

  I remember staring wide-eyed at the television—not believing what I was actually seeing. It was an exact replica of the house I’d been trapped inside the night before in my dream!

  I then quickly muted the TV and called my close friend (and agent) Jim. I explained everything that had happened to me in the dream the previous night and how I was looking at the very same location on the television as in my dream. “What should I do?” I asked him, pacing the floor and eyeing the screen nervously.

  “I know exactly what you should do,” he said with confidence.

  “What?”

  “Stop watching that show!”

  Ah, if only it were that easy. I don’t know how or why I ended up having that experience, but I truly believe there is a lot more to this paranormal stuff than meets the eye. And it was such a powerful experience that I knew someday I’d get around to telling the story. Or at least an idea inspired by that experience. (And on a quick side note, the village of Queen’s Close is a complete fabrication, just in case any of you were thinking of taking off for that particular part of haunted Scotland.)

  Like with all creative projects, there is always more than one input. And again, this particular novel is no exception. So it is with great pleasure and profound gratitude that I would like to thank the following souls for their generous help to this novel.

  First, my agent, friend, and muse, Jim McCarthy: Jim—I’ve said it over and over, but seriously, dude, I heart you somethin’ fierce! Thank you for all that you do on my behalf. The encouragement. The enthusiasm. The occasional insult . . . but only when I need one, right? ? And of course, thank you soooo much for those wonderful Gilley lines!

  My new editor, Sandy Harding: Sandy, all I can say is WOW! You came in, hit the ground running, and never lost a stride! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the fabulous feedback and wonderful insight. Merci, merci, merci!

  Claire Zion: Words cannot express how grateful I am that you worked so hard to find me such an amazing editor. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of me, Claire. It’s most appreciated.

  Michele Alpern: As always, my fabulous copy editor . . . YOU RULE!

  Betty Stocking: Betty, thank you for allowing me to bounce all things British off you. I adore you and I’m truly grateful!

  Also, allow me to thank the many folks who assist with taking care of me on a regular (sometimes daily) basis so that I can focus and write these books!

  My cousin Hilary Laurie: Tee, you’re so amazing and so special and you always say the perfect thing! You have given me some amazing perspective more times than I can count, and you’ve made me laugh just as often. Love you, mia carina.

  Profound thanks to the rest of my family, but especially to Elizabeth Laurie and Mary Jane Humphreys. Aunties, what would I do without you?!!!! (I’d be a crumbling ruin, that’s what!)

  And of course a huge thank-you to my peeps and close friends, who are amazingly understanding when it comes to the disappearing act I pull every time I write a new manuscript, not to mention the boundless enthusiasm they display when the latest and greatest hits the shelves. In no particular order they are Nora Brosseau (and the rest of the Brosseau family!), Karen Ditmars, Leeanne Tierney, Silas Hudson, Thomas Robinson, Jaa Nawaitsong, Jennifer Casey, Tess Rodriguez, Shannon Dorn, Christine Trobenter, Pippa Stocking Terry, David Hansard, and of course my very own security detail and the person responsible for controlling the massive(cough, cough) crowds at my book signings, Katie Coppedge.

  Love you guys. MEAN IT!

  Chapter 1

  I’m not really put off by the skeptics out there: people who believe that, for me to call myself a psychic medium, I must be something of a fraud. They see me sitting across from a client, struggling to come up with the name of a deceased loved one or a relevant and specific detail related to that loved one, and it’s easy to believe I’m making the whole thing up.

  But they don’t know what I know. They don’t feel what I feel. They don’t hear what I hear or see what I’ve seen. And they never will. Well, at least until they cross over, of course. There are no skeptics on the other side.

  Case in point, one of the best readings I ever did was for a woman who had just lost her father, and by just, I mean earlier that very morning. When she came to me, desperate to know that her dad was okay, I took pity on her and fit her into my schedule right away. When we sat down together, her father came through immediately, and all he kept saying was, “Holy cow! This stuff is real!”

  Turns out that, for seventy years, he’d been the biggest, loudest atheist you’d ever want to meet, and been convinced that people like me were total shams. So imagine how surprised he was when he died and discovered a whole new world—literally.

  And really, because of that experience, I no longer worry about the snarky little side comments I get from folks who think what I do is a big charade. They just don’t get it, and maybe, they’re not supposed to until they too drift off into that great night.

  But none of that is going to slow me down or even give me pause. There’s way too much work to do for me to linger on what other people think.

  I’ve got my regular work as a medium—connecting the living with their deceased loved ones—and my other job as a ghostbuster for a brand-new cable-TV show.

  It seems that there’s a growing fascination among television-viewing audiences for watching the things that go bump in the night. And, truthfully, our world is chock-full of those poor souls that haven’t made it across yet. I’m talking about grounded spirits, better known to most as ghosts. There are millions and millions of them out there, wandering aimlessly about—and some places are more heavily populated than others.

  Take Europe, for example: You can’t walk a mile anywhere on that continent without bumping into a ghostie or two. . . . They’
re everywhere. Which is why our production company wanted to fly us “across the pond,” so to speak, and plunk us down somewhere old and spooky.

  My two partners and I were part of a ghostbusting team recruited by a small production company headed by this guy named Gopher. Well, that’s not really his name. His real name is Peter Gophner, but everyone calls him by his nickname. I often wonder if that’s because sometimes he can be a real rat.

  Anyway, with Gopher’s assistance we’d landed a major contract with the Bravo cable network to develop a ghost-hunting show called Ghoul Getters. Bravo wanted ten episodes to air every Saturday night beginning in January. If all went successfully, my team and I would be rich and famous in no time.

  My ghostbusting squad was made up of my best friend and the team’s technical guru, Gilley Gillespie, and Heath Whitefeather, a brilliant medium in his own right and someone whom I’d recently worked another bust with.

  I’d known Gilley since I was in first grade back in Augusta, Georgia. I’d found him on the first day of school by himself on the playground with a pair of G.I. Joes he was pretending were having a make-out session. Even back then Gil was featherlight in his loafers. We’d become instant BFFs.