Midlife Mountain Demon: A Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction (Midlife Mountain Magic Book 2)

MIDLIFE MOUNTAIN DEMON RENEE BRUME Copyright © 2023 by Renee Brume All rights reserved. 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 written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All product names, logos, brands, trademarks, and registered trademarks are property of their respective owners. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover: Getcovers.com Editing: Roxana Coumans www.proofreadbooks.com Proofreading by: Horus Copyedit and Proofreading Map by Piroska Edes behance.net/piroskaedes CONTENTS 1. Stalker 2. Olympic Cafe 3. Moonshine 4. New Magic 5. White House 6. The Mine 7. Lunch 8. Girl's Night Out 9. Visitors 10. The Game 11. The Plane 12. The City 13. Dragon 14. Trouble 15. Out of the Darkness 16. The Great Escape 17. Medical Advice 18. Mile High Club 19. Dallas 20. The Warning 21. The Reckoning 22. Runaway Chapter 666 Next In Series About the Author CHAPTER 1 STALKER Standing in the middle of our drive, I considered the mailbox. Did I really want to know what was waiting for me today? With a sigh, I reached out toward the old rusty box, slightly askew on its post. Everything about my childhood home was slightly off-kilter. It had once been a grand mansion of a coal baron, but now it was where a vast secret government organization was housed, headed by my father. Potentia Security was the name, and it sounded innocuous enough, but in reality, my father, Oren, was a wizard. His team of magical beings kept actual demons of hell at bay, and I was slated to take over his hot seat. But I was having doubts about stepping into my father’s shoes, the first one being what I expected to find in the mail. It was the normal assortment of mail. A flyer was on top, advertising not only my mother’s hair salon but Dunn’s Donuts, Zane’s Hardware, and, disgustingly, my ex-husband's new dental office, Sean Ryan Dental. But junk mail, however annoying, was not what I was dreading. I saw it, and my heart sank. A plain white envelope, with my address typed on the front. Just like the others. Tucking the rest of the mail under my arm, I opened the letter with shaking hands. A white letter fluttered out, again typed. I wondered who still had an old-fashioned typewriter in town? It read: Stop seeing Clay Allard now, or I will make your life hell. Do you want me to hurt you? Do you want me to hurt your daughter? Leave him alone, or I will gut you and leave you for dead. Normally, I could brush it off, but these letters had been coming every day, and their violence was increasing. I had a pretty good idea who was sending them, but with no proof, the police wouldn’t act. The house loomed above me. A hundred years old, white paint peeling, with a wobbly front step, a porch that was only slightly sagging, and a grand tower that rose out of the roofline to look out over the mountain in its autumnal glory. West Virginia in the fall is the most beautiful place in the world. If you don't agree, you’re just plain wrong. Recently, my father had listened to my pleas to at least paint it, and the right end of the house now had scaffolding and a crew of painters scraping away, trying to get the job done before the beautiful fall weather turned cold. Walking in, I threw the junk mail on the sideboard in the hall, right next to a stuffed owl, who looked at me with baleful eyes. This house was something else. From its fifties kitchen, the rich paneling, and random floral wallpaper that looked somewhat menacing, it was as if it were a different world. So unlike the sterile, modern, gray McMansion hell I left behind in Cincinnati when I divorced Sean. Walking through the kitchen to the back servant's staircase, I took the stairs as fast as I could, straight up to the third floor. Busting out at the back of the staff break room, I caught Easton and Clay’s attention. Holding up the paper, I exclaimed, “I got another one.” “Dang, girl. Someone really hates you,” Easton said, holding his hand out. “Let me see.” Clay read over his shoulder. He looked up at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Beth. I tried to talk about it, and then she told me I couldn’t see the girls for two weeks.” Since I had been here, Clay and I had played this little dance. We were both attracted to each other, but every time we tried to get closer, disaster struck. Actually, it would be hilarious if I was not the loser here. I was drawn to this man, this sexy ex-priest. He had a chiseled jaw, abs for days, and a reserved side that was quite warm when he dropped his guard. Sarah was his ex, who was dating my ex. It was all a very complicated mess, worthy of its own daytime soap opera, and she used their twin daughters as pawns in her sick little game. She and my ex were living together, but she didn’t want Clay to see me. Hence the threatening anonymous letters. No one else I knew in Mt. Storm hated me as much as she did, not even Sean. Easton handed the letter to me. “Let me know if you need to kick some dental hygienists' butt.” He laughed, throwing his head back. Easton Meadows was an enormous black wizard with bulging muscles that struggled to stay in the confines of his white dress shirt. He had a shaved head and usually wore aviator sunglasses. But we all knew he