Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,64
happened between the two of you in the bedroom.”
Carlotta swats me on the wrist. “Don’t you know better than to bring up the size of a man’s ego when he’s in the room? And calling it little? It’s the ultimate low blow.”
“What? I was not—”
Before I can finish, a blast of air hits us, and my hair blows back from the velocity of the wind.
And just like that, the man from the portrait is hovering over us—or more to the point, his ghost is. He’s tall, strapping, his face is glowing, and yet his eyes and nose are lost in strange shadows. He’s handsome in a wicked way, about Carlotta’s age, and if I’m not mistaken, he looks irrefutably angry.
He growls over at the two of us, and every hair on my head stands up.
Kringle whimpers, “He’s a monster!” He scampers off until he’s latched onto Pancake’s back and sends my sweet cats both running around the room in a tizzy, screeching at the top of their lungs.
“Carlotta?” I whisper as loud as I can over the noise of the cats. “What did you do to anger this man? Why do I get the feeling that little problem he has is you?”
“It’s not me, Lot Lot. And his problem isn’t little. The problem is that he doesn’t have use of his vocal cords. All he does is grunt and moan.”
“I don’t see the problem. He sounds exactly like your type.”
The surly specter roars with anger, and my hair blows back again from the sheer velocity of air he’s able to displace.
“What’s with the hurricane force gales?” I shout up at him without meaning to. I can’t help it. The cats are hissing and yowling at the top of their tiny lungs, and Kringle is screaming like a three-year-old girl.
The ghostly man’s eyes light up like a pair of white flames as he roars like a lion, and both Pancake and Waffles roar right along with him—in fright, as their fur stands on end. The wind picks up as vases, placemats, and throw pillows alike are getting sucked into the vortex and spinning toward the ceiling.
“Make it stop, Carlotta!” I shout once again.
“No can do, Lot Lot,” she shouts back. “That man wants something, and he wants it now.”
“Well, then take him into the bedroom and give it to him!” I shrill.
As if the rushing wind and the magnified grumbles and rumbles from this freak of ghostly nature himself wasn’t enough, the room explodes with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder as a bona fide storm system seems to be taking over my living room. A thick coat of dark clouds blooms across the ceiling, and my jaw roots to the floor as I witness the supernatural wonder.
“Okay, mister, you win,” I shout as he zooms in close, hovering over Carlotta and me as if he were floating in a swimming pool. “What do you want?”
The handsome man with the dark hair shakes his head. He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes from it is an unearthly moan until he clutches at his throat.
“Told you so, Lot.” Carlotta bumps her knee to mine. “The man’s got no voice. How are we supposed to know what he wants to say?”
Kringle hops into Carlotta’s lap. “Who cares what this menace has to say? He certainly doesn’t care about keeping the peace. Get rid of him. Unless he’s here to help solve my poor Gloria’s case, he has no business being in this living room.”
A harrowing howl comes from the poltergeist up above as his entire being glows an electric shade of green. Jags of lightning go off as a wind so powerful starts up, the entire room seems to be floating all around us in its wake. And caught up in the whirlwind are my sweet cats, yowling and screeching as they begin to float off the ground.
I spike to my feet in a rage at the glowing beast above me.
“ENOUGH!” I riot out the word so loud the walls shake, and that sweet little sugar cookie buried in my belly gives a violent kick in response.
And then, just like that, the wind stops cold, the glowing poltergeist is gone, and oddly enough, a gentle rain starts to fall from the ceiling.
“What in the heck?” Evie squawks from the hallway, and both Carlotta and I gasp her way.
“Evie, get back to bed.” I traipse in her direction while doing my best to shoo her from the living room.