Agents, Agreements and Aggravations: In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three Read online

  Agents, Agreements and Aggravations

  In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Three

  Michael Anderle

  Agents, Agreements, & Aggravations Team

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Deb Mader

  Debi Sateren

  Diane L. Smith

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Jackey Hankard-Brodie

  Kathleen Fettig

  Kerry Mortimer

  Larry Omans

  Micky Cocker

  Veronica Stephan-Miller

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2020 by Michael Anderle

  Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US Edition, May 2020

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-936-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-937-6

  Dedication

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Author Notes Michael Anderle

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Author

  Genevieve King’s UK to US Travel Guide

  An insight into how the Americans butcher the queen’s English

  UK (Correct) — US (Wrong)

  Aluminium (ah-luh-min-ee-um) — Aluminum (ah-loo-min-uhm…WHAT?)

  American Football — Football

  Bathroom / Toilet / Loo — Restroom

  Biscuit — Cookie

  Bonnet (Car) — Hood

  Broadsheet — Newspaper

  Car Park — Parking Lot

  Chips — French Fries

  Crisps — Potato Chips

  Dual carriageway — Highway, freeway

  Dummy — Pacifier

  Duvet — Blanket (yes there are duvets, but not in this story)

  Extension lead — Extension cord

  Flat — Apartment

  Football — Soccer

  Garden — Yard

  Holiday — Vacation

  Ice lolly — Popsicle

  Jumper — Sweater

  Knickers — Panties

  Lift — Elevator

  Lorry — Truck

  Mad — Insane / Crazy

  Motorway — Highway

  Mummy — Mommy

  Nappy — Diaper

  Number Plate — License Plate

  Oregano (or-i-gah-no) — Oregano (or-eh-ga-no…I mean, come on!)

  Pants — Underwear

  Pavement — Sidewalk

  Peckish — Hungry

  Police / Bobbies / Pigs / Boys in Blue — Cops / Police

  Potato (poh-tah-to) — Potato (pah-tay-to)

  Rubbish — Trash

  Shop — Store

  Sofa — Couch

  Sweets — Candy

  Torch — Flashlight

  Tomato (toh-mah-to) — Tomato (tah-may-to)

  Trainers — Sneakers

  Trollied — Drunk/plastered

  Trousers — Pants

  Tube — Subway

  Waistcoat — Vest

  Wardrobe — Closet

  Windscreen — Windshield

  Chapter One

  Richmond, Virginia, USA

  Wind whispered through the waist-high weeds as Jennie stared up at the old manor.

  It had been a thing of beauty once. A mansion that could have befitted a lord or duke of some kind but had been lost and forgotten in the tangles of time. For almost two centuries, the house had stood solitary, only ever violated by brave teenagers who sought to find an answer to the ages-old ghost stories that circulated the schoolyard quads.

  The front section of the house protruded like a giant’s tongue. The east wing and the west wing fanned out like ears and stretched to the reaches of their peripheral vision. It was no wonder the kids in the local neighborhood called this the “monster’s manor.”

  Windows were smashed, wooden beams creaked and moaned in the midnight winds, and somewhere inside was the presence they were seeking. A darkness that had yet to be given a name.

  Jennie King clicked her tongue and placed her hands on her hips. She wore a short-sleeved white shirt with decorative cuffs, the pale flesh of her arms exposed. She felt no chill, despite the hungry wind nipping at her skin. Cool confidence masked her face, and a pair of round vintage sunglasses hid her eyes from view.

  “The monster’s manor, my arse,” she muttered to her
self. “Didn’t their parents ever tell them that monsters aren’t real?”

  Baxter Scampton chuckled beside her. He was larger than Jennie by a good measure. His biceps were as wide as her face, and he rested the head of a large wrench on his shoulder. If someone were to walk past them both, they might be forgiven for believing that two moon-bathed ghosts stood on the lawn.

  Only, they would never be able to see Baxter, would they? Because Baxter was, indeed, a specter.

  “Monsters aren’t real?” Baxter gave Jennie the side-eye. “Have you met you?”

  Jennie pursed her lips. “Ouch, that’s cold. It’s not my fault I’m a little…different.”

  “A little different? Milky Ways and Butterfingers are a little different. You’re like comparing Jell-O to steak.”

  “I’m unique.”

  Baxter nodded. “That’s one word for it. Unique. Probably sums it up, considering I’m yet to meet anyone like you on this strange giant marble we call planet Earth.”

  Jennie laughed softly and kept her gaze up at the house.

  Baxter followed her line of sight, cross-examining each of the windows and performing a mental calculation of how many rooms this place must have. “Are you serious about this, Jennie? I’m sure there are a thousand vacant properties scattered along the coast. There are easier ways to get what it is that you want. Cheaper, too.”

  “I want this one. I’ve already put the payment down.”

  Baxter puffed a mist of air from his nose and muttered, “Of course you have.” His voice returned to its usual volume. “Wouldn’t this have been easier with the others? I mean, not that I don’t appreciate spending some alone time with you, but we could be in and out in a jiffy; monsters or no monsters.”

  “You know why we had to keep quiet,” Jennie replied. “We would have had to fight through the bureaucracy of SIA politics, we would have had to request permission and wait for the administrative belt to begin turning. By the time we would have gotten the okay—if we would at all, considering the health and safety violations that no doubt plague this building—I’d be closer to dead than I would be to living.”

  It was difficult to tell what was going on inside her head. With her eyes masked by her glasses, he couldn’t get a read on her. Baxter only knew that what Jennie wanted, Jennie often got.

  Baxter gave her an incredulous look. “You’re a hundred years old, and you look as though you just turned twenty-five. How much deader can you look?”

  Jennie gave an appreciative grin. “I’m a little bit older than that. But thanks, you know how to boost a girl’s confidence.”

  Baxter fixed her with a firm look. “I wasn’t talking about the SIA. I know your feelings toward them: friends, sure, but wrapped in politics and red tape. I meant the others. You know, our guys.”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise. So, sue me.” She patted Baxter on the shoulder before striding toward the front door.

  * * *

  The front door didn’t need encouragement to open. The thick stench of dust and decay filled the air as it creaked its hello on rusted hinges.

  Jennie closed her eyes while Baxter closed the door behind them. She took a deep breath and listened to the deep quiet of the house. The moans and groans of the boards they’d heard outside had stilled, as though the house was holding its breath. The skin on the nape of her neck broke out in gooseflesh as she sensed what she was after.

  A small grin broke out on her face. “It’s definitely here.”

  Baxter looked around the empty hallway, with its crooked portraits and layers of mud, dust, and grime that slicked the floor. There were trails of footprints around the hall, but even those suggested that it had been some time since anyone had entered the house.

  Baxter grumbled, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Good. I was worried that we’d arrive at an empty house, free from spirits.”

  Jennie spoke as if soothing a child. “Not scared, are we, Bax? A big brave specter like you? It doesn’t seem like all that long ago we were down in Virginia, fighting off an army of possessed vagrants and Queen Victoria. And here you are, afraid over an itty-bitty specter?”

  Baxter followed in Jennie’s steps as she grinned and roamed around the downstairs, taking a left into an ancient drawing room. “Okay, two things here. The first thing you’ve got to remember is that we had backup—a whole army, in fact. You could draw from a number of specters and help in keeping us alive, whereas, right now, I’m your sole source of spectral energy. That’s a lot of pressure for one specter to have.”

  Jennie traced a clean line over the top of a mahogany fireplace with one finger. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Next?”

  “The second point, in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve never been inside a haunted house. I’ve heard stories, of course. Tales of rooms warping and furniture coming alive and being tossed around the place. People disappearing into portals and never returning. Instant death, sudden suffocation, blood dripping from the walls,” Baxter grew breathless as he continued, “Little children appearing at the end of the corridor, sudden blackouts…”

  “Baxter!” Jennie hissed, an amused look on her face.

  Baxter stopped abruptly and met Jennie’s eyes.

  Jennie shook her head. “I can’t believe it. A specter, spooked by the ghost stories of mortals? Don’t you think that you and I might be more frightening than all the things that could exist in this house?”

  Baxter considered this. “I suppose since you put it that way.”

  “Don’t let the stories spook you. The worst that could be in this house is some poor human or creature who died years ago and has found themselves trapped inside. This will be a straight in and out job. Clear the house, and the house will be ours. Simple as that, all right?”

  They continued through the bottom floor of the manor and found nothing more than a few broken items and a couple of scurrying rats. Rotten food festered in the kitchen, and they passed through there with fingers pinching their nostrils until they returned to the hallway once more.

  Jennie swept her hands wide. “See? Nothing to fear. How about we speed up this process? You take the basement, and I’ll take the upstairs?”

  “Why do I have to take the basement?” Baxter protested.

  Jennie cocked an eyebrow. “What’s your issue with the basement?”

  Baxter looked at her as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The basement? You know, where they keep the bodies? Where the traps are set? Where Dracula sleeps during the daytime?”

  Jennie frowned. “Dude, it’s night time. You think that Count Dracula would A, be living in Richmond, and, B, still be asleep in the middle of the night?”

  Baxter remained silent.

  “Fine! You take the upstairs, and I’ll take the basement.” Jennie gave Baxter a gentle shove toward the stairs and made her own way toward the door beneath the stairs.

  A sudden explosion of noise came from above as the tinkling notes of a grand piano rang through the corridors.

  Baxter searched for Jennie, but she had already disappeared into the darkness of the basement.

  Jennie’s voice trailed behind her, “No swapsies!”

  Baxter called out when she didn’t reappear. “Wait! You’re not serious?”

  * * *

  Jennie chuckled to herself as she descended the stairs into the impenetrable darkness.

  She couldn’t blame Baxter at all. His fear of the twisted creations that death could bring was well-founded considering the monsters he had seen while journeying alongside Jennie. But she knew that he would be okay. She had already detected what resided in this house, and there was nothing there that could kill them. With a little confidence, Baxter would be able to hold his own.

  The air turned cold as she approached the bottom. She switched on her flashlight and was met with a conical beam of light that illuminated the strange array of objects in the room.

  It was cavernous, easily almost the entire size of one of the wings. Occasio
nally the flashlight beam hit a concrete pillar that supported the room. There were hundreds of piles of objects, some covered in dust sheets, others decaying and rotting atop one another. There seemed to be no order or care to what lay beneath, it was almost as though a museum had kicked out its contents and left them in the room to fade with time.

  Jennie’s skin tingled. She was getting close. She focused her attention on channeling the tingling sensation that ran in the very marrow of her bones and acted as her own unique radar and honed in.

  Midway through the room, Jennie noticed the first tell-tale signs of another presence in there with her when she came to a mountainous pile of magazines, newspapers, and books that reached almost to the ceiling.