Read Online His Wicked Dream (Velvet Lies, Book 2) by Adrienne deWolfe - Free Book Online
Authors: Adrienne deWolfe
Ads: Link
now. He'd fallen. Struck his head, apparently. He'd been upset. He'd been shaken by his encounter with Eden, and when Sera had insisted on going to meet her—
"Sera!" He gasped, his eyes flying wide.
The kitchen door slammed. He was alone.
Collie. Michael struggled to sit. The boy must have been Collie.
Silence fell thick and fast, broken only by the tick-tock-ticking that droned endlessly from the wall. He glanced up to note the time, and the clock's hands faded in and out before his eyes. He battled a frisson of panic. My God, what's happening to me?
Shrugging off wet leaves and petals, he climbed unsteadily to his feet. His pulse was erratic, and his hands tingled as he leaned on the banister. For some reason, he was alive. Why that should be, he didn't know, except that whatever he'd suffered hadn't been an aneurysm.
He shuddered.
Spying the pile of porcelain chips, he heaved a breath and frowned. Collie had been sweeping? He suspected Sera's pie thief hadn't tidied the mess to help him. All those years ago, when Sera had tried to comfort Collie over the loss of his hunting hound, Collie had misunderstood Michael's reprimand. He'd been chastising Sera for claiming that Gabriel was in the room, talking to her. Michael hadn't meant to imply that Collie wasn't good enough to play with the "angel" that Gabriel Jones had become. In any event, Collie had gotten his feelings hurt, and matters had only worsened between Collie and Michael when he had stepped forward to help the boy get acclimated to an orphanage after his father died.
Michael's hands shook, and his knuckles whitened on the banister. Just thinking about his seizure and how he himself might have become a corpse a few minutes ago renewed the pounding in his brain. That Collie, not Sera, had found him had been divine providence, but Michael knew his luck wouldn't hold out.
Somehow, he had to stop Collie from telling Sera what he'd seen.
Chapter 3
If Aunt Claudia's Trading Post and Notions was any indication, the residents of Blue Thunder were accustomed to oddities.
At least, that's what Eden told herself as she straightened the shelves in her kinswoman's store. The main counter—the foundation of which looked suspiciously like a chimney—was dominated by an enormous stuffed beaver bearing sawed-off antlers and a skunk's tail. "Cooter," as Aunt Claudia referred to this novelty, was fetchingly attired in doll-sized overalls and rollerskates. Colorful fishing lures dangled from his prongs, and a pair of spectacles teetered precariously on his snout. Eden couldn't help but chuckle every time Aunt Claudia swore to some wide-eyed youngster, "That's how them tree gnawers are grown in the backwoods."
To the left of Cooter and against the rear wall were racks of shotguns, hunting traps, and bowie knives—not so very odd, really—but the centerpiece of this manly display was a wooden bust bearing the latest calico fashion, a sheepskin hat, and snowshoes. To Eden's secret amusement, Claudia had forbidden her to repair this creation with more traditional female fare.
The right side of Aunt Claudia's store was relatively subdued, since its rainbowed array of fabrics, hair ribbons, and skin tonics catered to the fair sex of Blue Thunder. Still, Eden found herself shaking her head when she swept her feather duster over the placard that read, "Don't be looking fer any dang bloomers here. " Apparently when it came to her female customers, Aunt Claudia was only willing to make limited concessions.
Eden glanced toward the main counter, where the store's proprietress stood rummaging around her jars of gumdrops, peppermint sticks, and saltwater taffy, Eden's personal favorite.
"Where the dickens is it?" Claudia growled, shoving Stazzie out of the way.
"Where's what?" Eden asked mildly.
"My snuff box, that's what!"
Turning, Claudia glowered at the eleven-year-old who was solemnly sprinkling dead flies into his new toad's box. "Jamie Harragan, did
"Sera!" He gasped, his eyes flying wide.
The kitchen door slammed. He was alone.
Collie. Michael struggled to sit. The boy must have been Collie.
Silence fell thick and fast, broken only by the tick-tock-ticking that droned endlessly from the wall. He glanced up to note the time, and the clock's hands faded in and out before his eyes. He battled a frisson of panic. My God, what's happening to me?
Shrugging off wet leaves and petals, he climbed unsteadily to his feet. His pulse was erratic, and his hands tingled as he leaned on the banister. For some reason, he was alive. Why that should be, he didn't know, except that whatever he'd suffered hadn't been an aneurysm.
He shuddered.
Spying the pile of porcelain chips, he heaved a breath and frowned. Collie had been sweeping? He suspected Sera's pie thief hadn't tidied the mess to help him. All those years ago, when Sera had tried to comfort Collie over the loss of his hunting hound, Collie had misunderstood Michael's reprimand. He'd been chastising Sera for claiming that Gabriel was in the room, talking to her. Michael hadn't meant to imply that Collie wasn't good enough to play with the "angel" that Gabriel Jones had become. In any event, Collie had gotten his feelings hurt, and matters had only worsened between Collie and Michael when he had stepped forward to help the boy get acclimated to an orphanage after his father died.
Michael's hands shook, and his knuckles whitened on the banister. Just thinking about his seizure and how he himself might have become a corpse a few minutes ago renewed the pounding in his brain. That Collie, not Sera, had found him had been divine providence, but Michael knew his luck wouldn't hold out.
Somehow, he had to stop Collie from telling Sera what he'd seen.
Chapter 3
If Aunt Claudia's Trading Post and Notions was any indication, the residents of Blue Thunder were accustomed to oddities.
At least, that's what Eden told herself as she straightened the shelves in her kinswoman's store. The main counter—the foundation of which looked suspiciously like a chimney—was dominated by an enormous stuffed beaver bearing sawed-off antlers and a skunk's tail. "Cooter," as Aunt Claudia referred to this novelty, was fetchingly attired in doll-sized overalls and rollerskates. Colorful fishing lures dangled from his prongs, and a pair of spectacles teetered precariously on his snout. Eden couldn't help but chuckle every time Aunt Claudia swore to some wide-eyed youngster, "That's how them tree gnawers are grown in the backwoods."
To the left of Cooter and against the rear wall were racks of shotguns, hunting traps, and bowie knives—not so very odd, really—but the centerpiece of this manly display was a wooden bust bearing the latest calico fashion, a sheepskin hat, and snowshoes. To Eden's secret amusement, Claudia had forbidden her to repair this creation with more traditional female fare.
The right side of Aunt Claudia's store was relatively subdued, since its rainbowed array of fabrics, hair ribbons, and skin tonics catered to the fair sex of Blue Thunder. Still, Eden found herself shaking her head when she swept her feather duster over the placard that read, "Don't be looking fer any dang bloomers here. " Apparently when it came to her female customers, Aunt Claudia was only willing to make limited concessions.
Eden glanced toward the main counter, where the store's proprietress stood rummaging around her jars of gumdrops, peppermint sticks, and saltwater taffy, Eden's personal favorite.
"Where the dickens is it?" Claudia growled, shoving Stazzie out of the way.
"Where's what?" Eden asked mildly.
"My snuff box, that's what!"
Turning, Claudia glowered at the eleven-year-old who was solemnly sprinkling dead flies into his new toad's box. "Jamie Harragan, did
Similar Books
