Read Online Dead for the Money by Peg Herring - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Peg Herring
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holding a chrysanthemum. “Just what that suit needs,” she told Seamus, tucking the flower into his buttonhole. Standing back, she nodded. “Perfect. Now we can go.”
He touched the flower’s soft petals, almost unbelieving. A flower? Sighing, he chose not to comment lest they delay any longer.
Seamus took Mildred’s hands in his, and immediately, the pain hit. Despite long experience, the agony surprised him every time. It was like being stretched in every conceivable direction, maybe worse than that, if there was something worse. Only one thing helped. “Moan!” he ordered. Soon he heard his own voice, in his head and all around him, giving sound to his suffering in low, anguished tones.
Beside him, Mildred wailed like an Irish banshee. Around them both, something, or maybe nothing, swirled furiously. When the pain became so bad that Seamus thought he could not stand any more, he counted breathlessly: “One, two, THREE!”
He opened his eyes. Mildred, who seemed to be leaning on him, although there was no longer anything of her to lean or of him to lean on, asked, “Where are we?”
“The last place William Dunbar saw in his life.”
“So this is where we pick up—” She stopped. Before them a young girl hung suspended on the wrong side of the cautionary fence. Her toes extended over the edge of the cliff, her arms reached backward, gripping the top rail. Most of her stretched over thin air.
“Seamus!”
“Hush!” He was thinking furiously. They had to enter a host within seconds of their arrival or return to the ship. But if they jumped to this girl, she might let go of her precarious hold, reacting to fear and physics. Within seconds of arrival, he had to make a critical decision.
The girl made it for him. As lightly as a mountain goat, she pulled herself back from the edge, vaulted the fence, and landed directly in front of them. Once she landed, facing them, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. She saw them, or at least saw something her brain did not know how to interpret.
“Jump!” He told Mildred, and they propelled themselves toward the girl. She stumbled forward a step, caught herself, and muttered something like, “Shit!” Immediately, she replaced the word. “I mean, shoot! What was that?”
“She saw us,” Mildred said. The girl shook her head. “She’s Brodie, isn’t she? What if she tells someone?”
“Hush!”
Instead of obeying, as she had promised to do, Mildred spoke in clear distinct tones. “Brodie, don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”
If Seamus had had teeth, they would have clenched. He should have gone with his instincts. Within ten seconds, Mildred had demonstrated that she was everything she had insisted she was not: talkative, meddlesome, and completely unwilling to follow orders.
B RODIE HAD ESCAPED again to the viewing point after funeral plans were explained. Funeral—the word itself was awful. There would be people, emotion, ceremony, all the things she hated. But it would be for Gramps, so she would tolerate it.
She hung from the fence rail, staring down at the trees and water below, until she was dizzy. I’d better be careful, or I’ll fall, she thought with a grim smile. Was that what she was hoping, that the fence would give or her hands would tire, and she would plunge to her death like Gramps did? She imagined the feeling of falling through the air. Would it be freeing to not have to hold on to anything ever again? Death might not be so bad if she and Gramps were reunited. If only a person knew what it was like to be dead, she could decide if that’s what she wanted. Not knowing made the decision so tough.
Not that life offered a lot of prospects. She had nobody left. With Gramps gone, someone else, probably Bud, would take over as her guardian. Where would she end up? Scarlet was important to her, but Bud might decide she was old enough to be on her own and send Scarlet packing to save the estate’s money.
This
He touched the flower’s soft petals, almost unbelieving. A flower? Sighing, he chose not to comment lest they delay any longer.
Seamus took Mildred’s hands in his, and immediately, the pain hit. Despite long experience, the agony surprised him every time. It was like being stretched in every conceivable direction, maybe worse than that, if there was something worse. Only one thing helped. “Moan!” he ordered. Soon he heard his own voice, in his head and all around him, giving sound to his suffering in low, anguished tones.
Beside him, Mildred wailed like an Irish banshee. Around them both, something, or maybe nothing, swirled furiously. When the pain became so bad that Seamus thought he could not stand any more, he counted breathlessly: “One, two, THREE!”
He opened his eyes. Mildred, who seemed to be leaning on him, although there was no longer anything of her to lean or of him to lean on, asked, “Where are we?”
“The last place William Dunbar saw in his life.”
“So this is where we pick up—” She stopped. Before them a young girl hung suspended on the wrong side of the cautionary fence. Her toes extended over the edge of the cliff, her arms reached backward, gripping the top rail. Most of her stretched over thin air.
“Seamus!”
“Hush!” He was thinking furiously. They had to enter a host within seconds of their arrival or return to the ship. But if they jumped to this girl, she might let go of her precarious hold, reacting to fear and physics. Within seconds of arrival, he had to make a critical decision.
The girl made it for him. As lightly as a mountain goat, she pulled herself back from the edge, vaulted the fence, and landed directly in front of them. Once she landed, facing them, her eyes opened wide in disbelief. She saw them, or at least saw something her brain did not know how to interpret.
“Jump!” He told Mildred, and they propelled themselves toward the girl. She stumbled forward a step, caught herself, and muttered something like, “Shit!” Immediately, she replaced the word. “I mean, shoot! What was that?”
“She saw us,” Mildred said. The girl shook her head. “She’s Brodie, isn’t she? What if she tells someone?”
“Hush!”
Instead of obeying, as she had promised to do, Mildred spoke in clear distinct tones. “Brodie, don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”
If Seamus had had teeth, they would have clenched. He should have gone with his instincts. Within ten seconds, Mildred had demonstrated that she was everything she had insisted she was not: talkative, meddlesome, and completely unwilling to follow orders.
B RODIE HAD ESCAPED again to the viewing point after funeral plans were explained. Funeral—the word itself was awful. There would be people, emotion, ceremony, all the things she hated. But it would be for Gramps, so she would tolerate it.
She hung from the fence rail, staring down at the trees and water below, until she was dizzy. I’d better be careful, or I’ll fall, she thought with a grim smile. Was that what she was hoping, that the fence would give or her hands would tire, and she would plunge to her death like Gramps did? She imagined the feeling of falling through the air. Would it be freeing to not have to hold on to anything ever again? Death might not be so bad if she and Gramps were reunited. If only a person knew what it was like to be dead, she could decide if that’s what she wanted. Not knowing made the decision so tough.
Not that life offered a lot of prospects. She had nobody left. With Gramps gone, someone else, probably Bud, would take over as her guardian. Where would she end up? Scarlet was important to her, but Bud might decide she was old enough to be on her own and send Scarlet packing to save the estate’s money.
This
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