Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2023

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

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  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

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  Author: Crumley, M.M.

  Title: THE HOUSE OF GRAVES: OVER THE RIVER & THROUGH THE WOOD

  ISBN: 9798860895218

  Target Audience: Adult

  Subjects:

  Urban Fantasy/ Horror Comedy

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Character List

  Tessa Graves (norm): our main protagonist, lead detective of Graves, Graves, & Graves

  Ollie Graves (norm): Tessa's aunt and total badass

  Gisele Graves (norm): Tessa's grandma and author extraordinaire

  Curtis Nash (troll): Tessa's friend and partner

  Brett (Worm): go-to guy of the Hidden

  Doc Holliday (norm): an old family friend, hero of the Immortal Doc Holliday Series

  Fernsby (witch): Denver's leading hypnotist

  Graves, Graves, & Graves, Hunc Quaesitorem: investigative agency that serves the Hidden. Hunc Quaesitorem is Latin for seeker & is a code to residents of the Hidden letting them know that Graves serves them.

  Jarmen (boglet): one of Ollie's contacts

  Julian LaRoche (Roma): sells information in the Hidden

  Magistratus: Hidden police force

  Magnus (norm): the Graves family butler

  Silas Graves (norm): the founder of Graves, Graves, & Graves

  Simon Redgrove (Takaheni): tetrarch of the United States Hidden

  The Hidden: the secret and hidden world of the cryptids (creatures such as imps and vampires, witches and trolls). Some are humanoid, but many are not. The Hidden operates with norm government approval, but the people of the world do not know of its existence. The tetrarch is the ruler of the Hidden

  The Patron (?): main client of Graves, Graves, & Graves

  Virgil Graves (norm): Tessa's father

  M.M. Crumley Book List

  Urban Fantasy

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES

  BOOK 1: HIDDEN

  BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT

  BOOK 3: RUTHLESS

  BOOK 4: INSTINCT

  BOOK 5: ROGUES

  BOOK 6: EMPIRE

  BOOK 7: OMENS

  BOOK 8: CHASM

  BOOK 9: FERAL

  BOOK 10: OBLIVION

  BOOK 11: RELENTLESS

  BOOK 12: REQUIEM

  BOOK 13: HELLION

  BOOK 14: SHADOWS

  THE HOUSE OF GRAVES SERIES

  BOOK 1: THREE LITTLE GRAVES & THE BIG BAD WOLF

  BOOK 2: OVER THE RIVER & THROUGH THE WOOD

  BOOK 3: FIRE BURN & CAULDRON BUBBLE

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES

  BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2: BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5: DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7: WARPATH

  And writing as M.M. Boulder

  Psych Thrillers

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  WE ALL FALL DOWN

  To find me on Facebook, just search for M.M. Crumley

  Visit my website at www.mmcrumley.com

  OVER THE RIVER &

  THROUGH THE WOOD

  M.M. Crumley

  For all the men out there who have accepted the precious mantle of fatherhood and honored it.

  Chapter 1

  "I'm not sure I understand what you're asking from me," Fernsby said slowly.

  "I want you to take out the compulsion triggers in my mind," Tessa Graves replied just as slowly, but much more forcibly.

  "But I never put any triggers in your mind."

  "I didn't say that you did," Tessa replied with pretend patience. "Someone did though, and I want them gone."

  "I will explain this to you one more time," Fernsby said. "Hypnotism cannot be undone."

  "Just because no one's ever tried, doesn't mean it can't be undone," Tessa argued.

  "Are you a witch?" he asked calmly.

  "No."

  "Well, there you have it."

  Tessa closed her eyes and mentally kicked Fernsby in the shins. Hard. Then she opened her eyes, smiled as prettily as she could, and said, "Would you at least try? After all, I did pay Brett three thousand dollars for your hypnotism. I might have to ask for a refund if you don't at least pull out your medallion and give it a go."

  Fernsby shook his head, but she knew she had him. If Brett was anything like Bennie, asking for a refund was paramount to running him over with a car. Repeatedly.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Fernsby pulled out his heavy golden medallion. Tessa shuddered at the sight of it. She didn't want it anywhere near her, but she needed to be free of whatever compulsion had been put on her by her dad and the patron. She needed her mind to be her own.

  She was living in a constant state of terror. It had been two weeks since she'd received her letter from the patron; and now she cringed every time she opened a piece of mail, terrified that it would be from him, terrified that she'd look at it and forget who she was. That she would forget that her dad had lied to her and used her. That she would forget that the patron was wrong, that he was also lying. That she would forget that Aunt Ollie was some kind of super fighter. That she would forget that she was trying to restore honor to the House of Graves.

  "Are you sure about this?" Fernsby asked softly. "You seem a little tense."

  She straightened her back and put all of her focus on him. It was just Fernsby and her. Sitting in her office. Having a completely normal conversation. She wasn't tense. She was fine.

  "I'm good," she said.

  He opened his mouth to say something else, and she could tell he was going to argue with her.

  "Just do it!" Tessa snapped. "Please," she added, just in case Gisele was eavesdropping at the door.

  His medallion started to swing.

  "Look at me; look at me; I am all you see," Fernsby chanted.

  Tessa fought it. She couldn't help it. She didn't want Fernsby controlling her mind, no matter how much she said that she did.

  "Relax, relax, I am your friend."

  He wasn't. Tessa didn't have friends. Not unless you counted Ollie and Gisele, but Tessa wasn't sure if it was possible to be friends with family. And Curtis was a troll. She could work with a troll, but she couldn't be friends with him. Could she?

  She frowned, trying to trace that line of thought, trying to see where it ended. Did it end with Virgil telling her that trolls were stupid? Did it end with him telling her Graves couldn't associate with trolls? Or did it end with her? Did she think trolls were somehow less than she was? She'd spent time with Curtis; she'd fought side by side with Curtis; she had laughed with Curtis, and she knew he wasn't less. He was clever, and he was dependable, which was more than she could say for most humans.

  "Ms. Graves," Fernsby sighed. "For someone who asked for this, you're not being overly cooperative."

  "How could I not be cooperative?" Tessa demanded. "It's hypnotism. I don't have a choice!"

  "As much as I hate to say this, some people can resist it," Fernsby said. "It's a filthy trait."

  "But you've hypnotized me before!"

  "Yes, but as I said, you were clearly drunk."

  "Not drunk," Tessa growled. "I don't get drunk. Drugged."

  "Drunk, drugged, same difference," Fernsby said easily. "It lowers the natural barriers, and makes compulsion or hypnotism that much easier."

  Orange magic was swirling around Fernsby's hand, and Tessa fought the urge to lean away from him. She wanted this.

  "What should I do?" she asked.

  "Relax. Open yourself to the process," Fernsby advised. "I'm only doing what you asked me to do."

  She tried, but how could she really trust him? How could she know he would only do what she asked him to do? How did she know he wouldn't just trigger something that would make her forget everything? She didn't want to forget. She couldn't risk it.

  "I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I can't do this."

  "I never thought that you could," he muttered as the magic died away and the medallion stopped swinging. "Can I offer you some advice, Ms. Graves?"

  "Tessa," she replied. "And why not?"

  "Hypnotism cannot be undone," he said firmly. "That is not to say that you cannot break it. I have seen people break free of a suggestion put upon them, but you must have a reason to break free, and you must be strong and perseve
re. To break free, you must know yourself; you must understand your own mind. Without self-knowledge, you will never be wholly in control."

  That was of no help whatsoever. After all, she didn't know who she was; and she couldn't trust anything she thought because as far as she knew, every thought that was inside her head had been placed there by Virgil. She could only trust facts. Facts were immutable.

  Fact, Virgil had been hypnotizing her since she was fourteen.

  Fact, she couldn't remember much of her life before that, and the memories she had were fuzzy at best.

  Fact, Virgil was a liar.

  Fact, the Graves, Graves, and Graves patron was a liar.

  Fact, both Virgil and the patron were inside her head.

  Fact, she was scared to be hypnotized, even if Ollie did insist that Fernsby had principles.

  Tessa sighed and said, "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

  "I'm always willing to help," Fernsby said. "I just don't think this is what you want."

  "How do you do it?" she asked. "Hypnotize someone?"

  "It's hard to explain."

  "Would you try?"

  Fernsby sat back in his chair and studied Tessa thoughtfully.

  "Your mind does most of the work for me," he finally said. "It's amazingly pliable. The magic follows the eyes in, and the phrase I speak, whatever it is that I say, takes the magic to the right place, wherever that moment or thought is stored, and based on my suggestions, you do the rest."

  "You're saying that I essentially hypnotize myself?" Tessa said irritably.

  "More or less. However, I think there's a very good chance that if you are in possession of your faculties, you are one of the few who cannot be hypnotized."

  She tried to find some solace in that, but she wasn't sure she could. It wasn't as if she had been drugging herself; someone else had done it.

  "It's a little... invasive, don't you think?" she asked.

  "Always," Fernsby agreed. "But it is sometimes needed."

  "When?" she demanded.

  He smiled at her. It was an I-know-more-than-you smile, and she hated it.

  "You hired me three weeks ago," he pointed out. "To hypnotize your employees."

  "They were under contract," Tessa argued. "They agreed to it."

  "So did you."

  She hadn't been an employee of Graves, Graves, and Graves though; she'd been a partner. It wasn't the same when Virgil had hypnotized her, but how could she ever explain that to anyone? She couldn't. No one would understand, but it was different. It was very, very different.

  "I believe you know Doc Holliday?" he asked.

  "Yes," she grumbled. She was so sick of hearing about Doc. Doc, Doc, Doc. Everyone bent over backwards to help Doc; but she, Gisele, and Ollie had nearly died because Doc had been too busy to help them with Cadwel.

  Afterwards though, after they had done all the hard work, Doc had swooped in and gotten all the praise for cleaning up their gigantic mess. Tessa hadn't needed him to clean up. She could have called the Worms to take care of the bodies, and she certainly could have walked out of the Hidden if she'd really wanted to. It just might have taken her a day or two.

  "When I first met Doc," Fernsby went on, "he asked me to hypnotize a young norm woman who had witnessed an attack on Doc and Mr. Jury. She wasn't part of the Hidden, but she had been exposed to both magic and the secrets of the Hidden that day, and it was clear she couldn't handle such things."

  Fernsby paused, and Tessa gestured impatiently for him to continue.

  "I was giving you time to imagine this woman," Fernsby said.

  "I get it," Tessa muttered. "Doc had you erase her memories of the event so she couldn't expose the Hidden to danger."

  "Precisely. Somewhat invasive, yes. But she was spared the burden of the scene she had witnessed, and countless lives were protected."

  "The ends justify the means," Tessa mocked.

  "I didn't hurt her," Fernsby said, edge to his words. "I gave her a kindness."

  "Shouldn't she have been allowed to choose?"

  "Do you know how many people live in the United States Hidden?"

  "The last estimate was six million," Tessa replied.

  "Six million lives," Fernsby said. "In the hands of one panicked woman. It was a kindness and a necessity, and if you cannot see that, I'm sorry for you."

  Tessa stared at him, irritation filling her.

  "We're done," she ground out.

  "Yes, I can quite see that we are." He stood and picked up his hat. "I do hope that you find what you're seeking, Tessa. Just remember that although the past may hold answers, it is not the way forward. You cannot see both forward and backwards at the same time."

  With that cryptic statement, Fernsby nodded congenially and left Tessa's office.

  "You can't see both forward and backwards at the same time," Tessa grumbled. She was too irritated to admit that there was any logic to his words. If she looked forward, all she saw was confusion; she needed to look backwards. That was the only way she could discover who Tessa Graves really was.

  Tessa's office door opened, and Ollie stepped inside.

  "Did he do it?"

  "No."

  "Why not? We paid him."

  "I couldn't handle it."

  "Oh," Ollie said. "That's alright," she added.

  "Not really," Tessa sighed. "What if the patron sends another letter?"

  "You'll beat it just like you did last time," Ollie said firmly.

  Tessa opened her desk drawer and pulled out the plain piece of paper with the words "someone's been a very naughty girl" written on it. Even reading the words now, she felt a tingle in her mind. Just the slightest ache. She had beaten him, yes, but for how long?

  "Is Magnus gone yet?" Tessa inquired, hoping to distract Ollie from asking any more questions.

  "Just left."

  "Did you get the sledgehammers?"

  "Yep."

  "Shall we?"

  "I'd love to," Ollie said with a grin.

  Tessa returned her grin, then stood and headed for the second floor. When she'd reached Virgil's room, she paused just outside, a little unsure of herself. The door was closed, and Tessa had only been inside it twice since he'd died. Once to pick out the suit he'd asked to be buried in, and once to search it for Virgil's notebooks. She hadn't found them, but this time she was going to look with a sledgehammer.

  The witch Tessa had hired to look for traps had combed through this room and Virgil's office yesterday, and Tessa had a money-back guarantee that she wouldn't explode. Which was pretty ridiculous since she wouldn't be collecting her refund if she did explode. She just had to trust that the witch had done the job correctly, but she hated trusting other people to do things for her.

  Ollie made a noise, and Tessa forced herself to push open the door and step inside Virgil's room. It smelled like his cologne, and grief flooded her. He had been her only friend for years, and she missed him.

  She reminded herself that he had never been her friend. She didn't miss him; she refused to miss him, and she wasn't sad that he was dead. So what if she'd spent the last twenty years with him? So what if her only goal in life had been to please him? She was past that.

  There were two sledgehammers in the middle of the room, and Tessa picked up one of them and walked over to the wall by Virgil's bed. She was so angry with him. She was angry with him for lying and for being dead. If he was alive, she could have told him how much she despised him.

  Pain shot through her head at the mere thought of telling Virgil such a thing, and her brain scrambled to excuse his behavior. Maybe he hadn't lied to her so much as he'd tried to keep her safe. She had never had to deal with people like Cadwel until she had messed things up. Virgil had kept all that from her. As a kindness.

  She shook her head, trying to regain control of her thoughts. Virgil hadn't been protecting her. He hadn't. He wasn't kind; he was a lying piece of scum.

  She pressed her head against the wall, trying to ease the ache. She was being emotional and ridiculous. She couldn't honestly think of a good reason to sledgehammer the walls to pieces. After all, the paneling was nearly a hundred years old.

  She stepped back from the wall with a frustrated snarl. She didn't care about paneling. She cared about truth.