The Mystery Of The Mirrors

By Misty MacAllister

But the danger is greater than they could have ever imagined. Delia and Delilah have faced ghosts, monsters, and everything else that goes bump in the night, but they've never faced a witch stronger than them. Until now!

WARNING: 'D&D and The Mystery Of The Mirrors' contains explicit material and is not intended for minors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Misty MacAllister
• Release date: Mar 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463455500

Misty MacAllister

Misty Macallister is a self-published writer, currently living in Houston, TX. She got into photography and modeling when she started making her own book covers for her erotica stories. You can find out more about her on her website, or you can follow her on any of her social media platforms. She's always open to questions, suggestions, etc. on her Twitter, Tumblr, or Instagram.

Book preview

D&D

and

THE MYSTERY OF THE MIRRORS

Misty MacAllister

MM Books

D&D AND THE MYSTERY OF THE MIRRORS

Misty MacAllister

Copyright © 2017 by Misty MacAllister

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

If you have any comments, suggestions, reasonable/unreasonable requests, marriage proposals, or if you’re just lonely, feel free to send an email to [e-mail]

Urban Fantasy, Cross-genre

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

PART ONE

A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS

Chapter One

A Reflection of Asphodel

Zoinks, De! You went to Hogwarts! Delilah marveled.

She was scooched up on the edge of the Mini’s passenger seat, peering intently through the ornate black gates at the massive building that stood at the end of the long gravel drive. She bit her luscious lower lip. She turned to Delia.

I’ll bet you were a Ravenclaw, she said, slowly nodding. Definitely.

Asphodel is not Hogwarts, Del, Delia groaned, reaching through the car window to press the intercom button on the panel next to the driveway. And if it was, I would have been a Gryffindor.

Delilah rolled her eyes. The slow roll brought her gaze down to her friend’s perfectly round bum. Delia’s worn-out jeans were delightfully straining against the posterior pressure as she leaned halfway out of the Mini’s window to reach the intercom.

You probably were a Slytherin, Delilah mumbled.

Ignoring Delilah, Delia stabbed a big red button on the intercom.

Yes, a strong feminine voice crackled from the little black box.

My name is Delia. I’m with D&D Consulting Group. We are here to see Headmistress Gertrude, Delia said, using her most professional voice.

Delilah raised her eyebrows. Delia’s old school friend, Gertrude, had asked for their special kind of help with their alma mater, but Delia hadn’t said anything about her friend running the place. Delilah poked Delia in the butt. Delia scowled at her.

Headmistress Gertrude? Delilah mouthed.

Delia’s brow knitted into an angry zigzag, and she mouthed, hush!

D&D, the disembodied voice repeated in a tone that proclaimed the D’s could only stand for disreputable and distasteful.

Delia and Delilah waited for more. The intercom crackled. There was a long moment of weighty silence. Delilah slumped into the passenger seat, crossed her arms over her perky breasts, and closed her eyes.

We drove twelve hours into the middle of a swamp, and they’re not going to let us in, she groaned.

Um...We have an appointment, Delia said, as much to Delilah as to the disapproving voice from the little black box.

Delilah snorted, and the little black box buzzed. The massive wrought iron gates slowly swung open.

Welcome… Delilah sang. And, as Delia put the car into gear and drove through the gates, she added: …to Hill House.

It’s not Hogwarts, Delia said pointedly. And it’s not haunted.

Right, Delilah said.

Delia maneuvered the Mini around the circular drive in front of the school, rounded a shimmering reflecting pool, and pulled into a visitor parking spot. They were the only visitors on the crisp winter morning.

It looks like it should be haunted, Delilah said, looking up at the massive Victorian Gothic Revival as she climbed stiffly out of the car. It’s got more points than… She quirked her mouth into a delightful pout while shimming her micro mini skirt down over her satin-covered bottom. Well… than something that’s really pointy.

If pointy means ghosts, then maybe you’re haunted, Del, Delia said, directing her gaze to her friend’s shirt and a pair of decidedly erect nipples that were trying their damnedest to poke through the taut cotton weave of Delilah’s V-neck sweater.

What? Delilah said, shifting her chest and fixing her bountiful cleavage. It’s cold out here. Brrrr!

That’s because it’s winter, Delia snorted. If you didn’t want to be cold, you should have dressed for the weather.

Delilah frowned. What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?

Delia and Delilah were mirror images of each other. Perfect twins, though not related, at least not by blood, but perhaps by magic. They stood five-foot seven and were slim, athletic, but with surprisingly voluptuous curves. Curves that they clothed in very different ways. Delia was wearing an old pair of tight jeans, a snug t-shirt that showed off a sliver of flat belly as she stretched, a three-quarters down coat, and Ugg boots. Delilah was wearing a micro mini skirt that showed off as much of her satin-clad round bottom as the law would allow, a skin-tight V-neck sweater with a neckline that plunged nearly to her bellybutton–and showed off her black push-up and plenty of cleavage–a light leather jacket, and five-inch platform sandals. Her toenails were painted red, and her toes were turning blue.

Well, if it’s not haunted, then why did your friend call us? Delilah asked, pulling her suitcase out of the back seat. Did she tell you?

She didn’t get into specifics, Delia said, pulling out her suitcase. She just said that she needed help.

I can see how she’d need help with this place. It really is something, Delilah said, looking up. It must cost a fortune to go to school here.

Delia shrugged. I wouldn’t know, she said. I was a court-ordered attendee.

That made Delilah snort. Lucky you. The juvy hall they sent me to was nothing like this. It was more like Babes Behind Bars, sans the sex but with lots of bars, she said, as she dragged her suitcase over the gravel, the wheels leaving two ruts behind her.

It was lucky, Delia said, following her. I had some good times here.

It didn’t stop you from running away to me, Delilah said, grinning.

Nothing could have kept us apart, Delia said, grinning back.

Holding hands,