SHOT IN THE DARK (SHOT IN THE DARK #1) BY MARY DUBLIN, ANNE KENDSLEY – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Mary Dublin
- Language: English
- Genre: fantasy romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 6.7 MB
- Price: Free
From what I understood, Alice had died slowly and painfully over a
hundred years ago. Luckily, ghosts appeared to have a selective memory.
Alice didn’t recall her final days unless prompted. So, I did my best not to
prompt.
I entered the decrepit Dottage mansion through the shattered attic
window. The building was massive, even by human standards. The attic
alone could hold the entirety of Elysia and then some. Alice seemed to be
the only restless spirit who wandered the countless rooms. Still, her
presence could make me jump out of my skin if I wasn’t prepared, so I
perched on the dusty dresser to get her ominous arrival over with.
“Hello?” I called. “Are you here? Don’t you dare sneak up on me this
time.”
Sure enough, the music box sitting beside me slowly creaked open on its
own. A familiar, out-of-tune melody tinkled through the attic. The tiny
likeness of a human man and woman steadily spun together in the middle of
the velvet-lined box.
My skin and wings prickled with vicious cold, and my breath puffed
visibly through my lips. A warning pang in my gut accompanied the
crescendo of my heartbeat. I muscled down the overload of sensations and
managed to smile as Alice materialized in the corner of the attic.
Emerging from the shadows, she looked the same as ever: soft strawberry
blonde curls tumbling over one shoulder, a slim dress cinched at the waist,
and pouty lips untouched by color.
I had shrieked myself hoarse the first time I saw her several months ago.
Her response to my panic had been a mere tilt of her head before she went
about her business—a melancholy beauty trapped in a loop. She hadn’t
lunged or tried to devour me, as I had always been warned humans were
inclined to do. She had never once commented that she and I were wholly
different. Maybe dead humans were less ornery than living ones.
A soft smile graced her delicate features when she spotted me tonight.
“Sasha!”
“Sylvia,” I corrected flatly. At least she got the first letter of my name
right this time.
“Sylvia! You’re back again.” Lately, she had been looking at me with
more recognition. Her milky gaze drifted to the broken window and became
distant. “Is he here too?” she asked with a dampened tone.
“I’m sorry. He’s not. You’ll have to suffer through my company for now.”
If only Alice could remember her own tragedy, I wouldn’t have to routinely
disappoint her. Reminders that her lover was long dead never went over
well.
Alice brushed a hand over the music box, her ghostly fingertips lingering
on the lid’s engraving. To My Beloved. I had traced my fingers through the
grooves more than once, wondering how a human artisan could carve such
steady, elegant letters.
“He’ll come for me soon,” Alice said wistfully. “I’d better make myself
presentable. Can’t have him see me in such a state.”
The same words every time. She began to mime rifling through her
wardrobe and makeup, preparing for a dance she would never attend. She
hummed in time with the music box’s off-kilter melody, though her
haunting voice hit the precise notes of the lullaby.
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