by Janni Nell
When the lesson was over, I thanked him. “It was great. So much fun.”
“You like a lesson tomorrow?”
“Another one? Really?” Gee, I should take care of maids with nightmares more often. “You’re a brave man.”
He laughed. “It is the least I can do after you help Consuela.”
“I’ll be here,” I said.
The next day I tried to dance better. I thought I was improving—well, Felipe had only winced twice—when the door opened and a man entered the studio. He was bent over and hobbled on a walking stick. His blond hair flopped forward, partly obscuring his face, but I recognized him immediately.
I sprinted across the dance floor. “Casper.” I wanted to throw my arms around him, but he looked so fragile I feared knocking him over.
Thankfully he no longer looked two thousand years old as he had in the angels’ chamber, but there were fresh lines in his face and his skin had lost its healthy tan. I didn’t tell him he looked terrible, but he saw it in my face.
“I’m healing slowly,” he said, “but I’m not sure I’ll ever be as strong as I was.”
“You’ll still be my angel, won’t you?” I held my breath, waiting for his answer. He didn’t look capable of rescuing anyone at the moment.
Slowly he nodded. “Try not to get into any life-threatening situations for a while.”
“Done,” I said, although I never tried to get in life-threatening situations. They just seemed to find me. I grinned at him. “Want to watch the lesson? Sit down.” I led him to a chair and handed him castanets. “Feel free to join in.”
He raised the castanets. “Olé.”
I joined Felipe on the floor and, what do you know, my rhythm was perfect.
* * * * *
Need another ghostly great read? Who you gonna call: Allegra Fairweather! Available now.
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Allegra Fairweather here. Paranormal investigator. Got problems with specters? Shapeshifters? I’m the woman to call. Given my success rate, solving the mystery of a bleeding rose on the shores of Loch Furness should have been an easy gig. But the shriek of the local banshee, the discovery of two bodies, and a near-death encounter with a three-hundred-year-old ghost suggest otherwise. And perhaps most dangerous of all, the hot pub owner who hired me now wants to show me exactly what’s under his kilt.
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My mother thinks my job is crazy. I’m a paranormal investigator; she’s Nancy Reagan crossed with Martha Stewart. Now Mom needs my special skills. She believes my stepfather is possessed. I admit he’s not his usual charming self, but sleepwalking doesn’t sound that weird. Until the sleepwalking spreads and my cousin Donna walks right out of her apartment window to her death…
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About the Author
After growing up in a beachside suburb of Sydney, Australia, Janni Nell traveled overseas, working in the UK before returning to Sydney, where she now lives with her family. When Janni isn’t writing, you can find her line dancing or working in her vegetable garden.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9389-6
Copyright © 2012 by Janette Whitehead
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