Phantom Mystery

To Shannon, my redheaded spit fire.

Introduction

Mystery Stonestar wants nothing to do with the Gladstone family or its infamous legend. The memory of Grandpa Harold and his ghostly steed is forever etched in her mind as a horrible experience. In an effort to distance herself from the guilt for nearly causing her little sister’s death, she legally removed Gladstone from her name and took up a mystical lifestyle, including opening a Crystals and Gifts shop downtown. She hides behind a harmonious façade of tones, herbs, and candles.

Lex Cayden cannot get Mystery Stonestar out of his mind. The moment he met her, he knew she was the one. Despite Reverend Begley’s prejudice against her life choices, and Lex’s position in the church as youth pastor, Cayden knew he had to make this mysterious woman his own.

With such differences in lifestyles, can true love overcome and let them follow their hearts to solve the Phantom Mystery?

ONE



Something was wrong. Mystery Stonestar felt it before she heard it.

Five sets of wind chimes hung on the door and tinkled whenever a customer entered Mysti’s Crystals and Gifts Shop. The specifically chosen chimes passively harmonized the atmosphere of Mysti’s store and balanced her own personal chakras every time someone entered or exited. She loved to hear their sound.

But something blocked her harmony.

The chimes worked better than a constant burning of ginseng and cost much less. She simply could not allow negativity of any sort to settle in her establishment or penetrate her personal auric field. The chimes did the job all day long without her having to perform cleansing rituals every morning and evening. The simplicity and passivity of it all made her happy every day.

However, today was different. Mysti closed her eyes to allow the E, D, and A chords to restore her personal strength, life energy, and insight.

It wasn’t working.

She focused on the cause wafting to her from the person at her door. The chimes really grated the nerves of whoever it was. She opened her eyes and smiled. Apparently, this customer really needed her skills. “How may I help—“

Her little sister, Samantha Gladstone, had drawn up taut as if she couldn’t move. Her aura was a filthy blue. What had happened to make her sister’s effervescent energy field so full of fear?

Mysti needed to distill Sammy’s solar plexus chakra immediately. “Hey, Sam. Come on in, let me make you some tea.”

“Hey, Nancy.” Samantha sighed heavily.

Mysti glanced at the door and back to Sam. “I’m going to vent my feelings now. Why do you refuse to call me by my legal name?”

“I’ve called my big sister ‘Nancy’ for sixteen years. I can’t just suddenly start using a different name for you.”

Mysti crossed her arms over her midsection. Flowing purple taffeta sleeves hung to the knees of her wispy bohemian-style skirt. “It’s been nine years, Sam!” She drew in a deep breath. “You came here to discuss your inability to adapt to change, or what?”

“No.” Samantha winced. “I’m sorry.”

She obviously had an agenda for this impromptu visit.

“I wanted to ask you a huge favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Mysti turned to her tea cabinet and with a quick flick of her wrist, the single gas burner lit with a blue flame under her favorite orange enameled kettle. She then mixed together some aromatic leaves and placed them into a small Asian mortar. Adding some shaved ginseng root, she crushed it together with the pestle, and poured it all into a tea infuser. Gingerly, she lowered it into a ceramic tea pot.

She lifted an Apache tears from a basket of assorted stones and crystals and held it against her palm. She needed its friendly vibrations to protect her from Sammy’s negative emotions. The dark stone grounded and protected Mysti at the same time.

An antique wood-burning enameled cast-iron stove now served as her tea cabinet. Their dad, Henry Gladstone, had helped her put in a gas line and a pie cupboard above it for storage. The oven was storage, too. Only the one burner supplied heat for the tea she brewed for herself and special customers. There wasn’t anybody on the planet more special to her than her baby sister. Except her cousin, Harry, of course. He was truly her best friend.

Sammy wrung her hands. “You know how, when we were little, and we swore on all that was honorable and holy—“

“What do you want, Samantha?”

“No, bear with me.” Sam waved her hands to stop Mysti from cutting her off. “So, you remember, right?”

“Yes, Sammy. I remember.”

“Well. For example, if I had auditioned for a play, and it was, like, my lifelong dream to get this part in this play, and I got the part. You’d come see the play. Wouldn’t you?” Pleading eyes lifted to meet Mysti’s.

“Uh… sure.” Mysti handed her sister a delicate cup and saucer filled with the tea she had just concocted.

“Really? Oh, Mysti. Thank you!” Sam hurriedly sipped her tea, but then grimaced.

“Drink up, you need this. So… you’re in a play?”

“No, I’m singing the special in church.” Sam uttered as quickly as possible.

“What! You tricked me!” Mysti slammed her cup and saucer on a table. Crystals hanging from chains on a T-frame swung from the sudden quake.

“It’s the same as performing in a play! It just happens to be inside the church, during service! Pleeease, Mysti. I’m so… terrified!”

“I can tell,” Mysti muttered. “This tea is having no effect on you.”

“Dad did this to me! Reverend Begley overheard Dad talking to KatLynn Eidelman, my own co-teacher!” —Sam pounded a fist against her heart— “about my singing, and how they loved to hear me, but I never did so in front of anybody.

“The bullied Dad. Well, that’s what Dad said. He had no wiggle room. He told Dad the church was the perfect environment for me to face my fears. Where I’d be surrounded with love and acceptance!” Sam gulped her tea and swallowed hard. “Mysti, either I sing the special or-or Begley hinted Dad would be pulled from deacon status. He told Dad a deacon had to exhibit a healthy family life, and he was doing wrong by me for coddling my fears of singing in public. Oh, Mysti—” Samantha sobbed.

“Oh, Sammy.” Mysti knew what their father’s status in the church meant to him. She also knew how hard it was to oppose the mighty Reverend Doctor Obadiah Begley.

Samantha pulled a tissue and blew her nose. “It’s a solo! I’m singing a solo in front of the whole church!” She broke down crying, again. “And-and I need you there! Please, say you’ll come.” Sammy’s moist eyes stared at her. “If you’ll go, I can pick you up!”

Mysti opened her mouth to speak, shaking her head. “I-I…” Then she rounded the motion of her head to a nod. “Oh, Sammy. How do you get yourself into these messes?”

Sam dragged a crooked finger under her eyes. “I don’t know,” she whined.

“Okay.” Mysti barely breathed the word.

Sam gulped down the last of her tea, wiped her eyes, and set her cup on a small table covered with a sheer shiny cloth. She leapt toward her sister and engulfed her in a vise-grip hug. “Thank you, Mysti. Thank you! See you Sunday. I-I’ll be here to get you at eight o’clock.”

Mysti stared at her wind chime covered door through veiled eyelashes. How did she get roped into going to church? She swore she’d never set foot in that bigoted, judgmental, hypocri—

She sighed. “Oooosaaaah!”

If her only sister was singing a solo in front of the entire Greatest Endeavor Outreach Ministries Church, she supposed she could go—for her. Mysti knew her sister had a beautiful voice, but was shier than a winter rabbit when it came to singing in front of anybody, even her. Sam only sang when she thought no one was around. Who could have possibly talked her into doing it but Dad? And a solo at that!

Mysti opened her fist. She’d keep this Apache tears stone and give it to Sam on Sunday. At least her sister would have Mother Earth’s protection in the palm of her hand to guard against and absorb any negativity that came at her.



Mysti and Samantha walked arm in arm into the Greatest Endeavor Outreach Ministries Church. Reverend Doctor Obadiah Begley greeted them at the double door entrance. Mysti squeezed the Apache tears in her left palm as she shook the reverend’s hand with her right. Sam vibrated with fear. She shook Begley’s hand so quickly, a one shake and move on type of thing, and made no eye contact. It would have been amusing, if it weren’t so sad.

Esmerelda Begley, the reverend’s wife, hugged them both and whisked Samantha away from Mysti to allow for a quick run-through with the choir. Mysti moved toward the doors to the sanctuary.

A lions’ den.

Dread didn’t come close to describing her feelings toward that huge room. Mrs. Begley’s shrill voice reverberated up the aisle and reached Mysti’s stifled trance. Then she caught sight of Sam. Mysti entered the large auditorium.

Sam glanced up and waved her hand in a circular motion, begging Mysti to hurry to the front. She sighed. She’d so much rather sit in the back, where no one could notice her and she could slip out after Sam’s song to wait for her by the car.

But no. Sammy needed her up front. Where they could make eye contact and Sammy could draw strength from her sister’s presence. Just like that night—

No. Mysti refused to think about the night she first saw her sister running from the Phantom Horse Bridge. Her hair tangled with leaves and twigs. Her clothes covered in mud and holes. Her eyes were wider than Mysti had ever seen them. Sammy screamed and cried for months afterward. Mysti would climb into bed with her and repeatedly tell her she was safe.

Mysti swore she would never, ever let her sister get lost again. There was nothing she could do to distance her thoughts from the guilt that riveted her for years afterwards. Until she turned eighteen and changed her name from Nancy Gladstone, the girl who let her sister nearly get killed in the woods, to Mystery Stonestar, psychic reader, fortune teller, and mystic healer.

Mysti, to those who were close to her, was safe. Even here in this lions’ den. Her little sister would be safe, too. Mysti squeezed the Apache tears. “Oh, Sammy. Hold this.” She handed it to her sister. Sam stared at the stone a moment. Tears already formed in her eyes.

“Don’t do that. It’ll mess up your throat.” Mysti smiled. “You’re gonna be great! Just-Just visualize everybody in their underwear.”

They laughed. Sam squeezed the stone. “What’s this?”

“It’ll protect you while you stand up here. Don’t worry about it, just keep it in your hand.”

Sam stared at the beautiful shiny black stone. “Can’t hurt, right?” She giggled.

Mysti pursed her lips in an empathetic smile, of sorts. “Where do you want me?”

“Mrs. Begley said—“

“I didn’t ask you where they want your family to sit. I asked you where you want me.”

Sammy smiled. “I’ll be standing here.” She moved to her little piece of tape on the carpet. “I want you there.” She pointed at the pew directly in front of her.

Great, just left of the pulpit. She’ll be able to see every wrinkle, every pore in Begley’s judgmental face. She sighed. “All right. That’s where I’ll be.” Mysti hugged her sister and sat in the exact spot Sammy had indicated. Nobody was getting her place on this pew.



Mysti stood with a hymnal in her hand. But she didn’t sing. Her dad and mom had found her and sat to her right. The expected melodrama had not occurred. Could it be Sam told them she was coming? Their presence was soothing whether she wanted to admit it or not. She turned to the next hymn and watched the choir sing.

Alexander Cayden, the youth pastor and second-in-command, Misty supposed, returned to the pulpit to speak before Sammy’s debut. He stood tall behind the podium. She guessed it had been lowered for the rev. Mysti snorted and then lowered her chin to gain back control. Reverend Obadiah Begley certainly had the Napoleon stature and complex.

Cayden’s charcoal gray suit looked tailored, not off the rack, and his purple tie—well that purple exposed a side of his personality Mysti knew would be rebellious but fun. She’d like to explore that rebellious side… she shook her head. What was she thinking?

The ushers gathered on the floor in front of the dais, holding golden plates. Was it time to sacrifice a virgin? Mysti recrossed her legs and chuckled. These pews were stiff as a board and as uncomfortable as a buck-board wagon seat. Pastor Cayden read a verse from the Bible. Something about building the Lord’s house and storing up a surplus. Then the pastor prayed. He spoke of abundance and multiplication.

Mysti let his soothing tenor voice wash over her spirit. He spoke in the same chords as her selected wind chimes. She allowed the reverberations to penetrate her auric field. Her limbs relaxed for the first time since she had awakened that morning. Who was this Youth Pastor? She had never met him in person. He had a Texas accent, which was really cute for such a staunch position in this lions’ den. He kept saying, “Y’all” and “fixin’ to.” It was really charming.

Samantha inched to her spot on the floor, pursing her lips tightly together. The young pastor quickly trotted off the dais and sat in the front row pew to Mysti’s far right. She considered this. There were three chairs on the dais. One for the reverend, one for the choir director. Why didn’t the junior pastor sit in the third? Granted, after the musical portion was complete, Mr. Choir Director left the stage entirely.

In Sam’s right hand, she clenched a microphone as if it would save her from drowning. Her left hand was closed and Mysti knew why, but with two fingers and a thumb, Sam fidgeted with the mic’s cord, as if it was bothering her. She knew why Sam did that, too.

Mysti closed her eyes and pushed out all the white light she could muster to surround her sister in love and strength, courage and breath. She opened her eyes and met Sam’s. Her sister glowed with beauty. It was more than the multi-colored spot light shining on her. A quivering smile lifted the corners of her glossed lips. The organist, Mrs. Begley, began the introduction and Deborah Begley, the reverend’s daughter, accompanied on an amplified piano. Sammy lifted the mic with a trembling hand to her mouth. She closed her eyes.

And then Sammy sang.

A vacuum effect sucked everything out of the room, except Mysti and her little sister. When Sammy began to sing, Mysti stopped breathing. Even though it was an ancient hymn, something from their great-grandmother’s day, Sammy sang it so sweetly and perfectly, it could have been presented to the angels on high.

“It is well…”

The choir echoed her words.

“With my soul…”

Tears swelled in Mysti’s eyes. She had heard Sammy sing all her life, but never amplified and with keyboards and a choir behind her. It was an experience Mysti would treasure for a very long time. She wished she’d thought to record it on her cell phone. But per protocol, she had left it in Sammy’s Mitsubishi.

Sammy held her last note. The word lingered in the balcony. The congregation exploded with applause. Mysti grinned when her sister blushed and handed her mic to a member of the choir who had come down from the loft to give her a hug.

Mysti’s eyes darted to the reverend. With sloth-like reflexes, Reverend Doctor Obadiah Begley patted his hands in a mock-simile of applause. He looked like he had eaten a sour lemon, Mysti mused. The assumption could be made that applause was not the norm in this sacred building. She enjoyed the good reverend’s perturbetude — a word Sammy and she had made up as children — more than an adult ought to.

The good reverend slowly uncrossed his legs and pushed himself into an erect stance. Making his way to the podium, he flopped an ancient King James Bible on the wooden surface, intertwined his fingers, and leaned on the solid structure. “Well, Henry. You told me your daughter could sing. But I had no idea she sang like an angel!”

The congregation broke out in applause again. And this time Begley basked in it, as if it were all for him and the clever words he had just uttered.

TWO



On the first row of pews to the right of the speaking platform, Pastor Alexander Cayden chuckled at the reverend’s comment. Sister Samantha Gladstone did have a lovely voice. He hadn’t realized Henry Gladstone had two daughters. But when Samantha sat down with her family, Lex noticed a girl who, all but for her red curls, looked just like Samantha. Twins maybe? Nah, probably not. The ginger one had a look of elder sister about her.

Silence pulled Lex out of his thoughts. What was wrong? The reverend just stood there at the podium. His head bent and his eyes tightly closed and he mumbled, “Yes Lord. Yes Lord.” Was he praying to himself. This was unusual behavior, even for Begley. Why was he waiting so long? He should ride the energy Samantha had lifted with her amazing voice. Go with the flow of God’s presence. What was he doing? All that energy and spirituality of the moment faded. And faded fast.

Finally, Begley lifted his face and drew in a long slow breath.

“Brothers and Sisters.” He spoke so slowly, Cayden seriously wondered if he had had a stroke. “I had another sermon prepared this morning, but as Sister Samantha performed her special song, the Good Lord spoke to me of a Great Eeeviill that has taken root in our community.”

Cayden cocked his head to one side. Where was Begley going with this?

“As His humble minister, I must share with you what HE has shown me. Turn in your Bibles to Deuteronomy, Chapter 18, and we will start reading in Verse 10. Listen to the WORD of the LORD MY CHILDREN, it states: ‘There must not be anyone among you who passes his son or daughter through fire; who practices divination, is a sign reader, fortune-teller, sorcerer, or spell caster; who converses with ghosts or spirits or communicates with the dead. All who do these things are detestable to the LORD!”

Begley glared at the congregation. Then he lowered his head and continued reading. “It is on account of these detestable practices that the LORD your God is driving these nations out before you. Instead, you must be perfect before the LORD your God. These nations you are displacing listened to sign readers and diviners, but the LORD your God doesn't permit you to do the same! The LORD your God will raise up a prophet like me from your community, from your fellow Israelites. He's the one you must listen to.’”

Cayden leaned forward with his elbow on one knee. He listened intently. This was not the rev’s ordinary style of sermon. Lex’s gut told him it was aimed specifically at someone. But who? He glanced to his left through slitted eyes. He couldn’t blatantly turn his head and scan the congregation, but he sure wanted to. He’d been with this ministry less than a year. He wasn’t aware of anyone practicing divination or sign—

There was that shop down town. What was it called? He pulled a vision from his memory of the little bright-blue shop. Mysti’s Crystals and Gifts. Surely he wasn’t speaking about whoever owned that shop? Why would he do that?

“Let us pray.” Begley continued. “Oh Great and Just God, Lord and Creator of all that is Holy and Good. I ask that you empower me to speak without fear the words of warning you showed me this morning. May the mouths of those controlled by Satan and his legion of demons be shut as YOU speak through me, your humble servant. In the most Holy and Sacred Name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.”

The congregants chanted “Amen.”

Except Lex. He couldn’t agree with or endorse Begley’s prayer. In fact, he questioned his agreement in this whole line of preaching. Maybe Begley really did have a stroke and it affected his mind. Lex glanced right and left. What would be the least spectacle-causing method to sweep Begley off the dais and out a side door?

“You may wonder” —Begley began to pace behind the podium— “why God gave me this Word of warning this morning . I’ll tell you Brothers and Sisters. BECAUSE we have allowed these very things to enter our community. Not only have we allowed it to enter, we have permitted it to take root and live here.”

Whoa! Lex nearly stood. He had to do something and soon. But what? He’d be fired for sure if he acted as he knew he should. An urging ached in his heart to stop his superior. But he questioned the reality of physically restraining the older man and dragging him into a hallway.

Begley’s face reddened. Spit flew from his lips as he vehemently continued. “This passage is clear that We, as the Children of God, are to have nothing to do with the abominable workings of those who are possessed and controlled by the devil” —Begley’s eyes glared at the Gladstone family on the front row— “and his demons.

“Who are those, you might be asking? Our passage tells us. ‘They are those that practice divination, who read signs, and tell fortunes. They are sorcerers, witches who cast spells, and talk with spirits and the dead.’”

Lex’s eyes darted left and right. Were the ushers nearby? Could anybody help him, if Obadiah resisted?

The reverend stepped out from behind the podium. He came down one step, then two. He paced the floor before the first row pews. “We have those here in our little town of Gladstone! Most of us pass by that den of demons every day and laugh about the pretty blue storefront with the weird bells and magic rocks.

“But God. Isn’t. Laughing.

“NO, GOD calls it an abomination! It’s witchcraft and idolatry all in one convenient stop.”

Lex stood, still questioning what he should do. But he had to do something. He heard shuffling. The congregants had followed his lead, and stood, too. Some men were crying out, “Amen! Hallelujah!”

Oh No! This wasn’t going right at all. Lex turned to look at the people standing behind him. He wanted to wave his hands to tell them to sit back down. But now, he figured it might be better that they were standing. Not as many could see him take down their Reverend.

Begley glanced a reprimanding look toward Lex but continued. “Let me be plain, Saints. I don’t care if you call it harmonics or chakra’s. If you say it’s Mother Earth or the Easter Bunny. If it isn’t from God, it’s from the devil. They may call them ‘healing crystals’ but their spells are from one source only. That little shop-of-sin may smell like fragrant oils and teas, but it's the stench from the darkest pits of HELL!

“Call it a ‘psychic reading,’ if you want to make it sound pretty. GOD CALLS IT FORTUNE TELLING.

“Why Moses was told by God to inform the Children of God to take those that practiced such abominations outside the city” —Begley stopped pacing abruptly and directly in front of the curly redhead who sat beside Samantha Gladstone. His eyes bore into her— “AND KILL THEM.”

The pour woman glared back at Begley. Her foot swung and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The whole Gladstone family looked stunned. But Cayden saw Mr. Gladstone’s fists drawing tight. Lex had to stop Begley, now, or Henry was going to punch the man in his face.

But Begley keep going. “By stoning them to death! Why in the NAME OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST are we buying the potions and brews of the demonic witch and calling it healing salves and herbal teas?”

Begley lifted his eyes and stepped away from the belittled woman. “IT IS WRONG BROTHERS AND SISTERS AND IT SICKENS GOD.”

Lex hurried to Begley. The pour woman fumed with loathsome anger. Her eyes were full of tears, her lips trembled, and her face mottled crimson. Rage radiated from every pore in her body. Samantha stared straight ahead. Her face was pale as cream. Henry Gladstone’s jaw cocked to one side and his teeth bore down on his bottom lip. Henry repositioned his feet, on the verge of standing.

”Reverend, that’s enough,” Lex murmured. He placed his hand on the reverend’s back, in hopes of gently guiding him out of the sanctuary, or bring him to his senses.

Begley lifted his arm and twisted away from Lex. “Don’t go seeking answers on Main Street, my children” —Begley glanced at Lex but continued— “when God, in the same passage, tells us where to find your answers. Verse 15 tells you where to find God’s answers. ‘HE will RAISE UP A PROPHET LIKE ME” —Begley lifted his face to the ceiling— “to speak to you’.

“LIKE ME.” Begley pounded his chest. “This is where we turn for the answers SAINTS, HERE at the HOUSE OF GOD through HIS CHOSEN PROPHET. Not through some REBELLIOUS GIRL who turned her back not only God, but her own family and Godly heritage.”

Lex closed the gap between himself and Begley, but Henry Gladstone’s arm came between them. He shoved Begley on the shoulder. “Shut your mouth, Begley!”

The fool continued although he staggered backward. “WE are in danger of losing God’s Favor and blessings on our town. We’ve already seen HIS WARNING to us in the loss of jobs and the economic struggles.”

Gladstone shouted, “Obadiah! I’m warning you!”

Lex pleaded, “Gentlemen. Reverend. Please let’s step outside.”

Begley screamed even louder, “I SAY GOD WON’T BLESS US AGAIN TILL WE RISE UP and remove the EVIL from our fair city.”

Henry grabbed Obadiah by the collar. Cayden’s arms crisscrossed Gladstone’s, trying to push the men apart. Henry’s right arm cocked back. Begley stretched around Gladstone and shouted, “LET US PRA—!”

Henry’s fist connected with Begley’s jaw and the three men fell like timber before the pulpit.



The youth pastor fell next to Mysti’s father and the reverend rolled over on his back but continued to swing his fist at Gladstone. Fists flew into the air and groans escaped lungs. Henry called Begley names which insulted his mother and Begley uttered equally distasteful monikers. Ushers ran up the aisle trying to assist Cayden with futile results. The three men were like greased pigs. Cayden rolled out of the entanglement and an usher helped him to his feet. His cheek bone already beginning to redden and swell. Gladstone and the reverend continued to roll around on the red carpet like Clint Eastwood and John Quade in a bad Western bar room brawl.

Mysti glared at her sister, who hadn’t moved since Begley started preaching. Her comatose stare told Mysti she had checked out, mentally. Like she always did when things were out of hand and she didn’t know what to do.

Well, Mysti knew what to do.

She jumped to her feet and ran to the nearest door. It had to lead to somewhere that would get her outside of this Hell House.

The hall was dark and all the doors were closed, but a red glow of salvation hung near the ceiling at the end of the hall. She ran toward it and fell against the bar that opened the door to the outside. She glanced right and left to get her bearings, but didn’t see Sam’s Mitsubishi. That meant she had to be on the north side of the church. She ran to the back of the building and around. There was Sam’s car. Should she get in it?

Not if Sam had been the one who set Mysti up for this humiliating intervention. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near her traitorous sister.

She’d walk.

It was only seven or eight blocks. Ten at the most. Mysti stomped through the pristine lawn to the curb and kept going.

To hell with all of them! Especially her family!



Samantha blinked, pulling herself out of the shock. What just happened? Why had the reverend attacked Mysti from the pulpit. Was this his plan all along? Forcing Sam to sing, knowing somehow, she’d invite her sister for moral support, and then lashing out at her in the name of all that was holy?

How cruel!

Dad had succumbed to the reverend’s demand for Sammy to sing because he loved the church and serving as deacon. It was Dad who suggested she invite her sister. Did he know something like this would happen?

Pastor Lex Cayden had tried to stop the reverend, but it was Daddy who put an end to the reverend’s accusations. Daddy sacrificed everything he cared about—For Mysti. There was no way Dad was any part of Begley’s heinous plan.

Sam jerked her head to the left. Where was Mysti? Oh no! She leapt to her feet and looked around the sanctuary. Mysti had slipped out, but where did she go? Sam pushed through the crowed aisle, eventually making her way out the front door. She glanced right and left.

Where was Mysti?

Her eyes landed on her car. It was empty. She looked farther down the street and caught sight of her sister’s flowy skirts. Sam ran to her car and jammed the keys in the ignition. Pulling forward, going back, pulling forward, and back, she wriggled her car out of the parallel parking and made a tight U-turn. Mysti had turned somewhere, but Sam would find her. She slammed on her gas pedal and ignored the speedometer. In three blocks she spied Mysti. Rounding the corner with barely a touch of the brake, she zoomed after her sister.

“Mysti! I’m so sorry!” Sam yelled, skidding her car to a halt and leaving black tire tread on the street as the passenger window lowered.

“You knew he was gonna do that?”

“NO!” Sam jumped out of the Mitsubishi and ran to her sister. “Mysti, Please. Let me take you home.”

“What was that then, an intervention with the whole church present?”

“Mysti, no. I swear!” Sam’s tears spilled down her face.

Mysti stared at her. Blood boiled behind her sister’s eyes. Sam backed up slightly. She’d never seen such hate in those green eyes before. She hoped it wasn’t truly aimed at her. “Please, Mysti.”

“No. Thank. You.” Mysti turned and continued walking.

Sam stared at her sister’s back as she stomped further and further away. Sam eased herself into the driver’s seat and fastened her seatbelt. Lifting her phone, she called the one person she thought could calm her sister down. Their cousin, Harry Gladstone.

THREE



Mysti stormed into her shop. Her favored chimes slammed against the door. Two broke and fell at her feet. Everything shattered just like her life. A rock had chipped the heal of her shoe and she’d twisted her ankle. She pulled the shoe off and threw it across the store. Tears started again. The nine blocks she had walked hadn’t settled the fire that burned in her heart or her gut.

Sammy had followed in her car, but Mysti was too mad to accept any form of an apology. She had been set up. By Sam. By Dad. By Begley. Or all three. They were in cahoots on this witch hunt.

She swiped her face with the back of her hand and drew in a deep breath. Limping to the far end of the store, she fumbled with her keys until she found the right one. She shoved it into the locked cabinet and jerked open the door. A single fat black candle sat on the shelf. She hesitated at first, but grabbed the banishing instrument and hobbled back to the center of her shop.

“How dare he!” She slammed the candle in the middle of a table where she and her customers usually enjoyed a relaxing cup of tea. “I’ll show that Begley some witchcraft.”

Spell binding teas and divinations were just a small dose of what she could do to him with this candle. Digging through her pocket, she slammed a purple Bic lighter next to it.

She couldn’t light it. Not yet.

She kicked off her other shoe and hurried around her shop, gathering white, pink, and yellow colored candles, herbs, and crystals. She placed each of them in strategic locations along the perimeter of her store and lit each candle before moving on. She lit the herbs, bound tightly with a hemp string, and sat them in an incense bowl to let them smolder. Then she gathered all of her G chord bells and tied them with fishing line.

She moved the chairs around and tied the filament to a nail in the exposed rafters on her ceiling. They once held white lights for Christmas and other happy occasions. Now they would hold harmonizing tones to stabilize her percepts. Next, she located a box fan in the back storage and brought it out to set on the register counter. She plugged it in and let the breeze blow the bells.

Candles burned, herbs smoldered, bells tinkled, and ocean waves rolled out of the therapy sound machine. She cranked it up as loud as it would go, until the vibrations penetrated her breast bone.

Mysti inhaled slowly and closed her eyes. She lifted her arms, as if she were in water, high above her head with the swelling of the ocean sound, and lowered them just as fluidly. Inhale. Exhale. “Breathe deeply,” she chanted. “You are worthy. You are beautiful. You are in complete harmony with the Earth.

“Reverend Begley is an ass…” she chanted, almost amused by her wit.

The enchantment shattered as the irritating wind chimes clanged against her front door. The last thing she needed was a customer coming in right now. Or her family— “Sam, I told you I—“

Her eyes darted to the man blanched by sunlight pouring in behind him. She cleared her throat. “How may I help you?” she said still in her chanting vocalizations.

“Miss Gladstone?” the man said.

She knew that voice. “My name… is Mystery Stonestar. Now’s not a very good time. Could you come back tomorrow?”

“Yes ma’am.” He stepped further into her store. Who was he? The door slowly swung closed and the blanching light ceased to wash out his features.

“Oh!” Her hand shot up to her throat. “It’s you!”

“Miss Stonestar, I’m Alexander Cayd—“

“I know who you are.” She bumped into her sales counter. She didn’t even realize she was moving backward.

Pastor Cayden moved toward her. “Oh. Well. I don’t want to—“

“Then why are you here, Pastor?” She spat the word as if it were inky poison on her tongue. A raw scrape on his cheek indicated he had been injured during his attempt to break up her dad and Reverend Begley. She fought her instincts to offer him a healing salve.

“Now. Now give me a chance. Please.” He stepped closer to her.

She pressed her bottom hard against the solid table.

“First, I want you to call me Lex. P-please. And second, Mystery, I wanted to come apologize and see if you were all right.”

“Huh. Really?” Mysti slid to her left and rounded the obstacle that kept her from backing farther away. Her chin quivered. Tears filled her eyes anew. “You need to get out of my store. You-you’re disrupting all my balance and harmony.”

He looked around the store at the many bells swinging in the breeze of the box fan.

Mysti touched her tummy. The various candles’ aromas blended into a sweet sickly smell, mixed with the herbs smoldering, it nauseated her now.

Cayden’s eyes landed on the black candle she had not lit. He stared at it a long time, and then slowly returned his gaze to her. “You don’t want to light that.”

“Oh I don’t? What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re doing everything you can to regain your balance. That candle is the last thing you want to utilize to deal with all the negative feelings you’re harboring right now.

“Oh? And what do you know about my negative feelings… right now?”

“You’re feeling betrayed, humiliated, singled out, ostracized.” He took another step. “You feel like you just stood before a witch’s trial and regardless of the truth, you were convicted. You’re hurt, angry, and want to strike back.”

That described her feelings exactly. But, how could he possibly know all this?

“Who are you to tell me what I’m feeling?”

“I’m nobody, really, Mystery.” Compassion filled his eyes. “I’m a man who witnessed you endure a public and personal tongue lashing. And, quite frankly, a very non-Biblical verbal assault.”

She stared at him. That dark suit, that purple tie. He had intrigued her when she first saw him. Now he was here in her little store, saying he cared about what had just happened to her. Saying he didn’t agree with the high and mighty Reverend Doctor Obadiah Begley. He had tried to stop the pompous ass. He got wounded because of it. Was he for real?

“Mysti.” She tucked a curly strand of red hair behind her ear.

He blinked. “I-What?”

She chuckled. “You keep calling me Mystery. I mean, that’s my name, but… but my friends call me Mysti… because they can’t solve the Mystery.” What possessed her to say that?

“Oh.” He cocked his head to one side as he slowly stepped closer to her and pulled her into his arms. “Well, I’d like to try.”

Her breath caught in her chest. “T-Try what?” she breathed.

“To solve the Mystery.” He lowered his face to hers.

His warm breath brushed her lips. She closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss.



The wind chimes slapped against the door. Mysti’s eyes darted toward the noise. Henry Gladstone ran into her shop, panting. His left eye was swollen and his fist was wrapped in a white handkerchief.

“Dad!” she shrieked. “are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright!” Henry glared at Lex. “What’re you doing to my daughter?”

Lex released Mysti and stepped back from her.

“Dad!” She rushed to him.

Lex approached Henry. “Mr. Gladstone, please. Let me explain.”

Henry grabbed for Lex’s lapel with his left hand and cocked his right back, but Lex dodged his grasp.

“Mr. Gladstone. Please.” Lex held his hands up in surrender.

“Daddy, stop it!” Mysti sprang between her father and the pastor. “He came here to apologize!”

Henry stiffened. “Apologize?”

“Yes.” Mysti gently pushed her father back a step. “I think Reverend Begley’s rant took everybody by surprise. Including Lex.”

“Lex?” Her father’s eyes burned into hers. “Since when do you call him Lex?”

“Since — Dad, let me put something on your cuts.”

“I don’t need anything on my cuts.” His eyes bore down on Lex. “You, young man, need to leave my daughter alone.”

“Mr. Gladstone, I don’t want to upset you or Mystery. I’ll leave, sir. But I want you to know, I only want what is best for your daughter, and I truly am so sorry for what the reverend did today. I seriously think he lost his mind… or had a stroke, or something.” His voice trailed off.

Henry stared Lex down.

Lex turned to Mysti. “I’ll go now. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.” He turned back to Henry. “I’m leaving. Good day, sir.”

He could feel Henry’s eyes burning a hole in his back as he exited Mysti’s Chrystal and Gift Shop.



“Dad!” Mysti yelled the minute the door closed behind Lex. “He was about to kiss me!”

“Wha — Humpf! Good. You don’t want to get mixed up with the likes of him.”

“Father! I am a grown woman and I will get ‘mixed up’ with whomever I wish.”

“What?” Henry stared at his daughter. “After what you just put me through?”

“What I put you through?”

Henry sucked in a breath. “Honey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well, just how did you mean it?”

“I-I, look, I’m sorry. What Obadiah did today was wrong. So wrong. His behavior lately and especially today is seriously making me reconsider my servitude to that church.”

“Well, I would hope so.”

“I don’t know what your mother and I are going to do. I need to think about this. This was… way off base for me and I-I just don’t know right now what to do about it.”

The front door clanged with wind chimes. “Now what!” Mysti muttered.

Henry and Mysti turned to see who had entered.

Police Chief Trent Gibson stepped in and tipped his Stetson cowboy hat. “Howdy, Henry, Misti.”

Mysti’s jaw dropped but her lips remained closed. Henry didn’t move. What did Begley do now?

“I was told I could find you here, Henry. Can we talk a bit?”

That was a preview of Phantom Mystery. To read the rest purchase the book.

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