Halloween Date Night: Gretchen's (Mis)Adventures Season One, #6

By P.A. Mason

Ghosts run rampant in fleshly bodies under the Halloween moon, and Gretchen only wanted a quiet night in to perform a summoning.

 

But then she met Ed, and things went downhill from there. This ghost failed to materialize, and is late for a date night with his wife. Distraught, he seeks Gretchen's help to get a firm handle on things.

 

In her haste, Gretchen's spell to put things right have unintended consequences, and Ed's wife is in danger from his own animated remains. On a night when the village is vigilant, zombie cleanup is a fraught business.

 

On the night of the dead, calamity is coming.

 

Gretchen must save the village, avoid the hangman's noose, and solve the mystery of this couple's ghostly dysfunction. Dawn never seemed so far away in her life.

Check out these hilarious high fantasy short reads each month for a new spin on a classic tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P.A. Mason
• Release date: Jan 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393152743

Book preview

Copyright © 2020 P.A. Mason

All rights reserved.

First Edition

Editing services provided by CJ Skye

Cover design by P.A. Mason

GRETCHEN’S (MIS)ADVENTURES

Book 6

HALLOWEEN DATE NIGHT

P.A. MASON

For everyone who wondered why Halloween stories have to be scary.

CHAPTER 1

This is the biggest pile of dung this newspaper ever committed to print. Gretchen flicked the paper in disgust. "A wicked witch put the fair young lady under her enchantment?"

Nora shrugged, not looking up from her pages of the paper. The baron figured it would add to my infamy, and King Edgar just wanted to put the whole nasty business behind him.

I can’t believe that twerp welcomed the scribe back with open arms. Do they really think the public will buy this?

They already have, Nora swirled the last of her ale and gulped it down. Queen Edwina is back on the throne, and the fair lady in question is supposedly recovering in a convent. The people of Extor are suitably fearful of the witch from Helgard and all is right in our kingdom.

I can’t believe you’re not mad about this. What about us downtrodden witches? You’re always yammering on about rights and fair pay.

I’m lucky to have my position back at all, Nora snapped. And I myself never want to think about that bloody mirror again!

Gretchen held her hands up. Fine, okay. I mean, none of it was your fault, is all I’m saying. Can’t a witch stick up for her buddy?

I don’t see why you dislike him so much.

The scribe? Gretchen screwed her face up. He peddles in lies and propaganda. Paints us as evil.

Nora puffed out her cheeks and shook her head, not bothering to reply. Gretchen worried about her. Since they’d bundled her home and she’d stopped having compulsion withdrawal shakes, she hadn’t been herself. Maybe it was the shame of becoming spell bound, or having her position threatened. Either way, Gretchen wanted the witch with sass back.

Last drinks, Jurgen called from the bar.

Gretchen swiveled in her seat with a groan, one chorused by the ogres involved in a dice game with a party of wood elves. Jurgen wore a stony expression and carried out a jug of ale to thump on the table in front of Nora.

You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s mid-afternoon for pete’s sake. Gretchen caught Jurgen’s apron before he could amble off.

I’m taking no chances. This will be the first place they hit. And the only night they can land a punch on the ogres. I have windows to board up and traps to set. He yanked his grubby apron free and strode back to the bar.

Well, I suppose I don’t want to be caught up in that either, Nora clucked. I’ll be on my way. There're wards to be seen to at the estate. The baron won’t be pleased if they give out tonight of all nights.

Gretchen’s lip curled as her friend folded her paper and stood, pushing her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t remember Nora ever giving a fat froggy’s bottom about whether the domestic magic was in order. Usually she spoke like that kind of thing was beneath her. Gretchen hoped this wasn’t a portent for a permanent shift of attitude.

Rightio, then. Seeya next time. Gretchen poured herself another ale and turned to consider the rest of the taproom at The Salt and Bog.

She’d thought it odd that the ghostly folk hadn’t turned up already to pop into their corporeal forms when the sun went down. Gretchen figured they were probably off plotting what kind of Halloween pranks they would pull. It made sense Jurgen would want to shut shop, but sundown was hours away yet. The one night a year ghosts could drink regular beverages, eat physical food, and get their filthy mitts on everything. It was annoying, that conditions were optimal for a bunch of spells, too.

And this year, she was certain she had the summoning spell just right. She’d have closure. After the business in the fairy realm, she’d come to terms with the probability that her Great Aunt Esme was gone. Even if the spell didn’t work, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t take it as a sign she was alive. She couldn’t keep living in hope of something so far removed from probability.

Tell you what… Jurgen dropped onto a stool next to her and flicked a dishcloth over his shoulder. You can stay a while longer if you do your mumbo jumbo on the perimeter.

Wards. Gretchen said the word deliberately, like she was talking to a small child. Magical wards. And how much are you prepared to pay for my services? I’ve got my own ‘mumbo jumbo’ to be getting on with at home.

Jurgen snorted. It’ll earn you a few extra brownie points for the next time you need me to save your scrawny backside.

He’d been impossible for weeks. Thinking he was the hero for smashing that mirror when just hours before she’d smuggled him out of a dungeon. She rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. I will never live this down, will I? Should have left you there to rot.

Yeah, yeah. And who would serve you drinks, then?

All right, Gretchen