The Guest House Hauntings Boxset Hazel Holmes (easy novels to read TXT) 📖

came a year after he dumped all of his money into the land. That was when the textile mills were born, and practically made the fur trade obsolete. He couldn’t afford the payments on the loans he used to buy the land, and those that had settled in the makeshift town were leaving by the dozens every day for work at the textile mills in the city.”

That warm sensation spread throughout Sarah’s body, and she examined her glass, finding it halfway empty. It had been a while since she’d had a drink, and she set it down, knowing she shouldn’t go too hard too fast.

“But,” Pat said, raising a finger, “a woman heard of his trouble and came to visit. She was a strange woman, an outcast who had settled the land long before Allister Bell had arrived. The townspeople whispered that she had been in league with the devil.”

Sarah snorted, spinning the drink on the napkin, watching the condensation collect on the glass. “She must have pissed off the wrong man to start those rumors.”

“At the end of his rope, Allister decided to speak with the woman. She told him that she could make him rich and powerful beyond his wildest imagination. And all it would cost was his soul.” Pat finished with the glasses and flung the white rag over his shoulder and leaned closer to Sarah. “He’d never been a religious man, and with his family starving and broke with winter on the way, he had nothing to lose.”

A combination of Pat’s storytelling and the whiskey pulled her into the tale. “And so the woman just made all of it happen.” Sarah snapped her fingers. “Just like that, huh?” She laughed and then took another sip. “Sounds like a hell of a deal. Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know if that witch is still around? I could use a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Pat smiled. “Don’t mind giving up your soul for it?”

Sarah swirled the ice and the liquor, staring down into her glass. “Not sure I ever had one to begin with.” She took another drink, this one lasting a few gulps before setting it down, and Pat’s silence brought Sarah’s face up from the cubes floating in liquor. “So what happened? Did she come and claim his soul?”

“That’s where the waters get a little muddied,” Pat answered. “The exact terms of the agreement vary, but there is one consistency to the story, and that was what happened on Allister Bell’s deathbed. The woman returned, and while he looked withered and old, the woman hadn’t aged a day. I don’t know what was said, but after she left, Allister Bell died, and the town started its slow decay into what you see now.”

Sarah arched her eyebrows. “An old man dying on his deathbed. There’s a shocker.” She drained the glass and dropped it down on the table. “And you still didn’t answer my question. Why not leave?”

Pat smiled. “Because this is my home. Been here my whole life, and while it may not be much, it’s mine.” He finished wiping down the glasses and reached for the bottle of whiskey. He freshened Sarah’s glass and then leaned onto the bar top. “But what about you, my weary traveler? What brings you to Bell?”

Sarah picked up the whiskey glass and stared at the melting ice cubes floating in the brown liquor. “Nothing good.” She took a smaller sip and then set the glass down. She reached for her cigarettes and lit one up.

“Mysterious,” Pat said.

Sarah shut her eyes and inhaled. The smoke funneled down her throat and into her lungs. She held her breath for a moment, and then exhaled through her nose, her body thankful for the hit.

“I’m glad it’s working,” Sarah said.

“And does my mysterious traveler have a name?”

She puffed smoke, Pat’s face growing hazy from the cloud. “Sarah.”

“You running from trouble, Sarah?” Pat asked, keeping his tone innocent.

Sarah smiled and reached for the whiskey glass. “A girl never reveals her secrets, Pat.” She winked, and Pat laughed.

The door opened behind her, and she watched Pat’s reaction brighten in surprise.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son returned home.”

“Prodigal grandson.”

Sarah turned slightly to her right, finding Kegan approaching the bar. She quickly looked away, returning her attention to the whiskey and cigarette. If she hadn’t been down to her last pack, she would have snuffed it out and left, but she wasn’t about to let some pretty boy send her running.

Pat and Kegan embraced, Pat looking at Kegan like a son. “Been a long time since I’ve seen you in here.”

“I hope you checked her ID.” Kegan sat next to Sarah while Pat poured him a drink without him ordering.

Sarah rolled her eyes, which Kegan missed when his attention turned toward the commotion at the door. A small crowd stepped inside, and Pat wiped his hands off. “I need to settle some bar tabs with Sal and Joe.” He playfully punched Kegan on the shoulder. “Good to see you, kid. Holler if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Pat.”

Kegan reached for his glass, fingering the edges before looking at Sarah. “Hi.”

Sarah ignored him, sipping from her drink and staring at the mirror across the back of the bar.

“Oh, I see,” Kegan said, nodding as he cupped his drink on either side with both hands. “You wanted to keep up your loner profile. I get it.” He sipped from his drink, facing forward. “Must be a lonely way to live.”

“You always talk this much at a bar?” Sarah tapped her cigarette, adding to the pile of ash in the tray nearby.

“People come for conversations,” Kegan answered. “Otherwise they’d just drink alone at home.”

“I should give that a try.” Sarah took another long drag on her smoke, and then snuffed it out in the ashtray. She reached for the whiskey and drank a large gulp.

“Might want to take it easy on that,” Kegan replied. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

Sarah tilted the glass toward her lips, staring at the liquid. “You going to rat me