opened wide to make room for the heaping spoonful.
“I came to see Rand,” I said as I walked in through the open door.
She nodded but said nothing as she spooned another heaping bite of what looked like chocolate ice cream with red cherries and hunks of fudge into her mouth. There was probably a third left. “He’s outside trying to finalize the list of dead guys,” she said, not bothering to swallow first.
“Is the list almost ready, then?”
She shrugged and dug in for another mouthful. “I don’t know but hot damn, it seems like it’s taking forever.”
She didn’t wait for my response but turned around and headed down the hall to the kitchen, which led to the back gardens of Pelham Manor. I couldn’t help but glance around Rand’s house, wondering if anything had changed since I’d moved out. Everything seemed to be in the exact same place. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason that little familiarity made me happy.
Even though the outside of Pelham Manor boasted itsseventeenth-century beginnings, the inside was the epitome of modernity. A large black leather sofa dominated the living room, which had oriental rugs on the floor and abstract oil paintings on the walls. But the most outstanding centerpiece of the room, and the feature most commented on, was Rand’s fireplace, which was easily as tall as I am. What I loved most about Pelham Manor, though, wasn’t the priceless art or the ginormous fireplace, but the way it smelled—it shared the same clean spiciness that put me in mind of Rand.
“Did you hear Sinjin is back?” I asked, in an effort to force myself to think of another subject.
Christa glanced over at me in surprise, pausing only momentarily before she dived back in again, looking like an archaeologist chipping away at a fossil. She’d probably come across a nut.
“Where did you see him?”
I knew my answer was going to sound bad but there really wasn’t any way around it. “He showed up in my house last night.”
She nodded, not daring to pry her attention from the excavation of an almond. “Did you get it on?”
I just shook my head—I knew that would be the first thought to cross her mind. “You seriously think about sex way too much.”
She freed the almond and spooned it into her mouth, smiling at me as she did so. “And you think about sex way too little.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true but I also wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead I stayed silent and followed her through the hall and into the kitchen.
“So where the hell has Sinjin been?” she asked, dropping the empty ice-cream container in the trash can on the way to the back door. How Christa could eat the way she did and yet manage to keep her awesome figure was beyond me. I teetered on the line between “athletic”and “could stand to lose five pounds”; it was a constant struggle. I did find, however, that living within the Underworld had taken about ten pounds off me. So I guess I was off the diet seesaw … for the time being, anyway.
“He refused to tell me,” I answered, remembering how Sinjin had deliberately avoided the subject of his location.
After our reintroduction, I’d sent him on his way so I could get some shut-eye. I was convinced he’d just hung out in my house, though, because I kept waking up to strange sounds I couldn’t place—sounds that had probably been coming from the TV. I hadn’t really minded. Somehow, with Sinjin in my house, I actually felt safer, as ridiculous as it sounds, since he could easily rip my throat out.
Before I had the chance to comment any more on the subject, I noticed a pool of mist appearing just over the staircase. The more I watched it, the more it morphed into the shape of a man, resplendent in nineteenth-century breeches and a waistcoat.
“Um, what are you looking at?” Christa asked and turned in the direction of my gaze. Of course she couldn’t see the ghost, Pelham, the original owner of Pelham Manor.
“I’m looking at
“I came to see Rand,” I said as I walked in through the open door.
She nodded but said nothing as she spooned another heaping bite of what looked like chocolate ice cream with red cherries and hunks of fudge into her mouth. There was probably a third left. “He’s outside trying to finalize the list of dead guys,” she said, not bothering to swallow first.
“Is the list almost ready, then?”
She shrugged and dug in for another mouthful. “I don’t know but hot damn, it seems like it’s taking forever.”
She didn’t wait for my response but turned around and headed down the hall to the kitchen, which led to the back gardens of Pelham Manor. I couldn’t help but glance around Rand’s house, wondering if anything had changed since I’d moved out. Everything seemed to be in the exact same place. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason that little familiarity made me happy.
Even though the outside of Pelham Manor boasted itsseventeenth-century beginnings, the inside was the epitome of modernity. A large black leather sofa dominated the living room, which had oriental rugs on the floor and abstract oil paintings on the walls. But the most outstanding centerpiece of the room, and the feature most commented on, was Rand’s fireplace, which was easily as tall as I am. What I loved most about Pelham Manor, though, wasn’t the priceless art or the ginormous fireplace, but the way it smelled—it shared the same clean spiciness that put me in mind of Rand.
“Did you hear Sinjin is back?” I asked, in an effort to force myself to think of another subject.
Christa glanced over at me in surprise, pausing only momentarily before she dived back in again, looking like an archaeologist chipping away at a fossil. She’d probably come across a nut.
“Where did you see him?”
I knew my answer was going to sound bad but there really wasn’t any way around it. “He showed up in my house last night.”
She nodded, not daring to pry her attention from the excavation of an almond. “Did you get it on?”
I just shook my head—I knew that would be the first thought to cross her mind. “You seriously think about sex way too much.”
She freed the almond and spooned it into her mouth, smiling at me as she did so. “And you think about sex way too little.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true but I also wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead I stayed silent and followed her through the hall and into the kitchen.
“So where the hell has Sinjin been?” she asked, dropping the empty ice-cream container in the trash can on the way to the back door. How Christa could eat the way she did and yet manage to keep her awesome figure was beyond me. I teetered on the line between “athletic”and “could stand to lose five pounds”; it was a constant struggle. I did find, however, that living within the Underworld had taken about ten pounds off me. So I guess I was off the diet seesaw … for the time being, anyway.
“He refused to tell me,” I answered, remembering how Sinjin had deliberately avoided the subject of his location.
After our reintroduction, I’d sent him on his way so I could get some shut-eye. I was convinced he’d just hung out in my house, though, because I kept waking up to strange sounds I couldn’t place—sounds that had probably been coming from the TV. I hadn’t really minded. Somehow, with Sinjin in my house, I actually felt safer, as ridiculous as it sounds, since he could easily rip my throat out.
Before I had the chance to comment any more on the subject, I noticed a pool of mist appearing just over the staircase. The more I watched it, the more it morphed into the shape of a man, resplendent in nineteenth-century breeches and a waistcoat.
“Um, what are you looking at?” Christa asked and turned in the direction of my gaze. Of course she couldn’t see the ghost, Pelham, the original owner of Pelham Manor.
“I’m looking at
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