The Ghost and the Grimoire

By Laura Hawks

Confederate Soldier Elliott Stone made numerous mistakes in his life. When he betrayed his comrades, he was tortured and murdered. For over a century and a half , his only refuge has been the sanctuary of the house built where he took his last breath. He was content in his solitude...until she came and disrupted his whole world. Daniella Yankovich inherited the beautiful Colonial Home. It came at a time she needed tranquility and peace from the N.Y. rat race. Little did she know her fortuitous blessing came with a cantankerous spirit. Now a Civil War of wills in the house has begun. Will the North prevail or will the South rise again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Hawks
• Release date: Aug 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370212521

Laura Hawks

Ms. Hawks has always been interested in writing in some form or other. A few years back, she was involved with and then ran a Star Trek Interactive Writing Group which was successful for a number of years. Yes, she is a trekker and proud of it.A few years back, she received her Master's Degree in Ancient Civilizations, Native American History and United States History.It was at this time she got involved in role playing on FaceBook, which gave her ample opportunities to grow and hone her writing ability.Living with three males takes up a lot of her free time.. granted they are all cats, but when they are not trying to push her out of bed, they are trying to help her type.She does several personal appearances around the country at Author/Reader conventions. Please check the website to see where she will appear next.

Book preview

The Ghost

And

The Grimoire

Laura Hawks

Copyright © 2015 Laura Hawks

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review..

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover design and Editing by Dominique Goodall

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1514898241

ISBN-13: 978-151489824

DEDICATION

To my mom who passed away from Cancer after a long battle and to her sister, my Aunt Terry who joined her just three months later.

I miss their smiles, their laughter, and their very presence.

Prologue

The small group unlocked the house. As they entered the abode, they quickly dispersed, each taking a room to have the drapes over the furniture removed and the rooms thoroughly cleaned. The elderly woman, with graying hair pulled tightly in bun wore a starched black linen dress. She stowed the keys she used to gain entrance in a front pocket of her uniform. Standing for a moment, she watched the others disperse as she pulled out her notes to reconfirm the order.

The cacophony of the workers disturbed, as well as startled him. Elliott Stone had the house in peace and quiet for years. Suddenly to have all those intruders moving around the house was quite disruptive to his preferred solitary existence.

He would be damned if he would stand for it. He suddenly grimaced at the thought. In truth, he was already damned. Regardless, he wouldn't abide what little peace he attained by being intruded upon.

Elliott flew down the stairs to then realize the noise was part of a cleaning service. They were preparing the house for occupancy. His eyes narrowed menacingly. He also realized they were only doing a job and were therefore not the entire problem.

Sure, he could make their work more difficult, even scare them away so they never returned. However, he wondered what would be the point. Others would be employed and the new occupants would still arrive. He realized he would be better off learning who was coming and deal with the main problem head on.

He maneuvered around the rooms, searching for any who might be in charge. He saw the elderly matron in the drawing room. She appeared to be perusing over notes, or maybe they were orders. She would have the information he desired in order to formulate an appropriate plan.

Mrs. Indvants flipped through her notes of instructions when she felt a cold draft sending a shiver right through to her bones and making her skin crawl. Looking up she wondered where the cold air might be coming from, she couldn't discern any noticeable source. Her breath became soft wisps floating around her as she breathed, her brown eyes widening slightly.

When she looked back to the papers she was holding, they suddenly began flipping off the clipboard. Thoroughly surprised, she threw the board into the air, screaming as she bolted from the room. Not stopping in the foyer, she threw the door open as she quickly escaped the house.

The other crew members emerged from their respective areas only to see a streak of gray and black moving swiftly down the front walkway. They peered at each other totally perplexed.

Elliott scanned the notes and orders until he found what he was looking for. A Mr. Dany Yankovich was arriving from New York City in two days to occupy the brick colonial home now residing on the lot where he had been killed and therefore eternally damned.

A Yank! From New York City?! He detested the Northerners with a passion. Hell would have to freeze before he would allow one to be in this home. Over the years he had acquired knowledge on how to utilize his various powers in order to get rid of unwanted persons. His fury over this man, no this creature, from the North making his way to the good ol' South of Virginia was hideous enough, but that this Yankee bastard would live in his residence was not acceptable.

Eli used all the strength he could muster, as he created a virtual cyclone within the lower floors of the building. Pictures which hung on the walls clanged against the plaster before crashing to the floor, the glass shattered into hundreds of sharp shards. Bric-a-brac flew across the rooms to smash against the opposite wall breaking into multitudes of pieces. Bookcases and tables were upturned while other furniture was displaced. The white sheet of covers from the various selections of furniture hovered and danced from the incredible forceful winds. Some of these sheets entangled themselves around the employee’s still standing agape at the mayhem.

The house cleaning crew's eyes widened at the sudden chaos. In their terror, they followed Mrs. Indvant's footsteps as they rapidly departed, leaving their supplies behind.

When the house was vacant once again, Eli laughed evilly as he slammed and bolted the door. The interior of the house was in shambles, but if that Yankee appeared anyways, he would make sure the man would regret it for all eternity.

Chapter One

April 18, 1866

Sweat poured down Eli’s shirt, the bags heavy on his shoulder. The image of his friend dying, shot between the eyes was going to stay with him for the rest of his living days. Sure, he had seen more die than he cared to count. The war wasn’t easy for anyone, but it certainly took its toll on him.

He lost so much, but through it all Jacob was with him. Jacob who came up with this hair-brained scheme to begin with. Promises of wealth, independence, a chance to start over again and put the horrors of the war behind them both. It sounded good. The plan was simple enough, albeit, with minimal risk. Then, everything went cock-eyed wrong.

He thought he might have lost them. Finally. Seeing an old barn up ahead, he was sure he could lay low there for a bit to catch his breath, and relieve the pressure of weight from his shoulders. He even thought he might have a chance to catch some shut eye and make a note of what happened in his journal.

His life was in that journal. Hell, his life was that journal. His pa had given it to him when he was eleven. Even now, he could remember that moment. It was the last day of school for Eli.

The boy entered his abode, glad to finally have his summer. His pa had promised to start him working on the fishing boat. Sure, he had gone fishing down by the fishing hole all his life, but out on the open waters of the bay was another thing entirely.

On the table was a small package wrapped in brown, his father sitting at the table eating. Eli came in and plopped on the chair by his pa. His ma brought him his meal as she kissed the top of his head.

She was a small woman, who gardened tediously in order to bring fresh vegetables and fruit to the table. She ignored all the comments about how she looked like a colored person for all the sun she received. With dark brown hair and doe like brown eyes, she was slender and petite.

Lately, she had not been as well in health as she would tell her family whenever they inquired after her. However, this day was not about Abigail Stone, or even about her tall, strapping husband Michael.

This day was about Abigail’s son, a young man of eleven who just finished the sixth grade. Michael had made the decision he needed the extra hands on his boat and teach his son the business. In time, he would be ready for a fishing ship of his own. In the meantime, Abigail and Michael had managed to acquire a gift for the son they were both so proud of. Returning to her chores, she let the men in her life speak.

School done?

Aye, Pa. It’ll start up again a’fer harvest.

Ya ain’t going back. Yer schoolin is done.

Eli looked surprised. Ah ain’t sure yer meaning, Pa? Ah ain’t gonna go back a’fer harvest?

No. I’m putting ya ta work on ma boat. Teach ya how ta make a living. Y’all had ‘nuff book learning. Ya can read, write an do arithmetic. Y’all don’t need nothing else. I know y’all like ta read an learn stuff, but it ain’t gonna do ya no good in the world out there. Yer eleven now, time ta be a man. His father pushed the brown package towards him. Consider it a graduation gift.

Eli tore the paper to reveal a leather bound journal tied by a leather strand, as well as an ink jar and quill. He was excited with the gift.

Figured y’all could write down them thar fancy dreams and high flutin’ thoughts y’all are always prattling on about.

Thank ya, Pa. Eli had taken his gifts and ran out back to sit under the small willow tree at the foot of their property. He gently ran his youthful fingers over the finely crafted leather. Undoing the leather strap holding the book closed, he opened it to the cream colored blank pages which waited for his imprint upon them. Taking the quill and ink jar, he began his first entry.

April the 28th, 1851

Pa toll me I’m done with schoolin’ and will be helping him on the fishing boats. I can’t wait ta be tellin’ Zachary about not going back ta school after the harvest season. I am going to write down all the important thoughts and ideas in my new journal, but it ain’t that big and I don’t have as many notions as Pa thinks I got, so I’m only gonna write when I got something important ta say.

That was so long ago. Yet, amazingly, Eli wondered where the time went. He pulled out his leather bound journal and opened it to the next empty page toward the back of the book. He was out of ink at the moment, but he had a pencil that would suffice once he whittled back the wood. With the moonlight alone coming in from holes in the roof of the dilapidated barn, which also served as his current refuge for a bit, he pulled out his knife and shaved the wood down to expose the lead.

He was used to the darkness of the night and being able to see with minimal light. He dared not light a fire or do anything to attract attention to himself. He knew very well he was still being hunted. He could only hope to evade them so long before he was caught and most likely killed for his efforts.

Captain William Pease, Captain Willy was not one to defy in any way, shape or form. And Pease, along with his men, the rest of the Confederate Raiders who refused to surrender with the others when the war was officially over, was hunting him.

As he exposed the lead, his mind couldn’t help but think about Jacob being shot. About his friend dying and not being able to even acknowledge it until this moment. Jacob got off easy. A quick death. Eli knew he would not be so lucky. He was acutely aware his death would be long and torturous if he were found.

His mind needed to focus and the best way for him to do that was to write his thoughts out. From one of the saddlebags, he pulled out his small nub of a candle. He pulled some pieces of wood around him to block what little light he was about to get from being seen and began to write.

April the 2nd, 1866

Jacob’s dead. If’n I ain’t seen it with ma own peepers, I’d ne’er believe it. Was behind him running from Captain Pease and what all was left of the Raiders. Ain’t but more than a dozen of us left but Jacob and me decided we was done raiding with this last haul. It’d set us up right nicely. Be nuff to set Jacob with land for that farm he has always dreamt about, and nuff to get me another boat to get back on the open seas for fishing, like ma pop always taught me to do.

Twas Jacob’s notion ta take the French’s gold coin being brought ashore for the Union. Jacob figured if’n we caught them coming ta shore, we’d be ahead of Pease’s ambush with the others. He done figured we’d get the drop on the goods afore Pease and gang knew we double crossed them. But we just got the gold in hand and begun our escape when they seemed ta be right on our tails. Ain’t sure how they found out so quickly.

Jacob, without ma knowledge aforehand, done the Frenchie’s in. He shot them both, grabbed the satchels of gold and dumped the bodies in the bay fer the fish. Ain’t been nigh on just a few minutes when the alarm were raised and they were hot on our tails. We run from the shore as fast as were possible.

Each of us had the bags of gold over our shoulders. Dang money were heavy, but it was gonna set us free; free from the Union carpetbaggers, free from the Confederate prisons and free from Pease’s Raiders. Ain’t figured it would set us free from life as well. Yet, there we were running cross the field with only the stars to guide us and then we heard shots and hollering.

I saw Jacob go down, as he was shot in the leg. As I got close, another shot rang out and hit him tween the eyes. I held him as a drop of blood dripped down his nose, leaving a red trail behind. He was a goner and I could not carry his heavy corpse and the gold at the same time. Taking the satchel he were carrying, I high tailed it outta there. I know they were following me. I could hear them calling and cussing, but I got away and with the gold too. Ain’t sure how long I’ll be able ta hide from them, but I am gonna do my best to outwit them as best I can.

I weren’t able ta stop and give him a proper burial. I couldn’t do anything for him as he died before I could even reach him. I been keeping to the brush and running since, able ta keep them off of me. I think I might have lost them, but ain’t positive. I’m sitting in an old run down barn hiding and trying to catch my breath. I’m gonna try and get to my ma’s land and people. Maybe I can find refuge and safety there.

Closing the book, he made the last of the entry and blew out the candle. He needed rest and then at day’s break he would begin to run again, taking closer steps to freedom.

Chapter Two

Daniella stepped off the Greyhound bus, her few meager belongings held within the two suitcases she had previously stowed in the luggage bay. She patiently waited with the others as the driver removed the bags setting them on the curb to be picked up. Of course, hers were going to be the last, but then she had been one of the first who boarded.

The move from New York City to Virginia had not been her first nor her original choice, but it had been an opportune one. A successful architect in the Big Apple, she became ill a few months ago. At the same time she was fighting for her very life, her only living relative passed away. Great Uncle Benjamin had left almost everything to charity, except the deed to an old Virginia Colonial.

All the money she had previously squirrelled away was lost in order to aid her ex-boyfriend out of a financial jam he found himself in or to pay what the health insurance didn't cover. As a result of her illness and the time she needed off to recuperate, she had lost her prestigious employment and left with nothing. She had to find a new place to live since she could no longer afford her plush city apartment.

She also realized she didn't desire to be anywhere near her ex-boyfriend, Mickey. She willingly helped him because she knew the consequences if she didn't. Dani realized couldn't live with herself if something happened to him if it was within her power to prevent it, but it took everything she had and then some monetarily. Even if she could afford to remain in her place, her doctors encouraged her to leave the hustle and bustle of the city rat race for the stress was detrimental to her continued existence.

So inheriting a home in the slower moving genteel South was like an answer to an unspoken prayer. She sold off most of her furniture, packed a couple of boxes to be shipped and threw the immediate necessary items together to take on the Greyhound.

As soon as the driver placed her bags on the curb, she scooped them up and headed to the little red Ford Focus she had rented and was now waiting for her in the guest parking lot, space number twenty-three. Thankfully, the automobile came with a G.P.S. or she would never have figured out where she was going.

Once she had stowed her bags in the trunk, she pulled out the address from her purse, and programed the G.P.S. in order to let it figure out how to get her there from her current position. When the computer became engaged, the feminine voice guided Dani out of the parking area and onto the main thoroughfare. Within thirty minutes she pulled into the semi-circular driveway of her new abode.

Emerging from the vehicle, she stood gazing up at the impressive red brick colonial style building with a gorgeous wrap around porch. The wood definitely required painting, and there was some other trim work which needed to be done, but the house itself seemed to be structurally good and sound.

She had learned the building had been vacant for the last fifty years, although it was fully furnished. Dani had hired a cleaning team to open and clean the house, but had gotten word the team sent hadn't completed the job and the company refused to send another group in. Although they didn't indicate why, she had asked for a recommendation for another service company and was told outright no one would enter the abode, no matter how much she offered. Dani couldn't understand why and the company refused to elaborate on their reasoning.

She had also been informed the keys were located in the mailbox and would be perfectly safe there until she retrieved them. She was also given the location of the nearest hotel accommodations along with the keys just in case. Admittedly, she had no clue as to what the ‘just in case’ entailed.

Grabbing the keys and note from the mailbox as well as her bags from the trunk, she proceeded up the walkway and opened the heavy black walnut door. As she entered and looked around, she dropped the bags and gasped at the chaos scattered about the first floor. Pieces of glass, plaster and shards of plastic and wood littered every room. Furniture was upturned, the place in utter shambles.

'What on Earth happened here?' She contemplated, as she could only venture a guess.

Leaving her bags in the foyer, she explored the lower portion of the house, room by room, testing lights and damage. When she completed the first floor, she grabbed her bags and slowly climbed to the second floor, setting them down on the landing. Unlike the first floor of chaotic appearance, the second level was in pristine shape albeit, with dust covers draping the hall furniture. It would be an intense amount of work by herself to get the place in livable