Read Online Honeymoon of the Dead by Tate Hallaway - Free Book Online Page B

air.
    “You scared the crap out of me,” I accused, once I found my voice.
    “Obviously.” Sebastian smiled lightly. “Do I dare say you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
    I laughed a bit breathily. Given our life, it wouldn’t be totally implausible that I had, but I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It was probably just some kid playing tricks.”
    Sebastian gave me a disbelieving look. “A kid? Garnet, when is it ever a kid?”
    “I just had that feeling of being watched, and—” I spread my hands to indicate the expanse of the empty aisle. Then I frowned and put my gloved hands on my hips. “Why couldn’t it be a kid? I mean, just once. Why couldn’t something in our life be completely nonmagical and ordinary? Other people get spied on by kids. Why can’t I?”
    Sebastian gave me a patient grimace and hugged me to his chest. “You’re babbling, darling.” I might have felt patronized, but it felt good to be wrapped up in his strong arms for the moment. Besides, pressed as I was into his chest, I could smell the scent of him: cinnamon and musky maleness.
    “Why couldn’t it be something normal?” I muttered into the silk of his tie, trying to keep the whine out of my voice.
    “It could be,” he acquiesced, nudging me upright so he could look me in the eye. “But you’re some kind of a vortex all your own, my love. Magical things are attracted to you like a magnet. Hell, my life was more mundane before I met you. Where you are, excitement follows.”
    “You make it sound much cooler than it is,” I said. And what did it mean for our marriage? Would we always be plagued by things that go bump in the night?
    “You wouldn’t know what to do with a normal life,” he teased.
    That was it! Of course my life had been going to hell; I’d cast a spell for everything to be normal. As soon as we got back to the hotel, I was going to reverse it.
    I gave Sebastian a deep, passionate kiss. “Thank you,” I said.
    He looked a little baffled, but he returned my smile. “Let me know if I can do it again—whatever it was.”
     
     
    The movie was some kind of period piece in Croatian. The popcorn was perfectly salted and went well with the four-dollar Milk Duds I gobbled greedily. Sebastian put his arm around me as we sat in the balcony of the majestic theater, with its funky Art Deco reliefs and velvet seats. I may have drifted off to sleep near the end, but I had a great time.
    I didn’t see any Gods or ghosts until we headed home on the bus. We could have taken a taxi, I suppose, but just as we stepped out of the theater the No. 4 into downtown seemed to arrive like a coach. When the doors whooshed open, Sebastian and I gave each other a “Why not?” look and hopped on.
    At this hour the bus was completely deserted. An old guy with frizzy white hair whose features were almost completely obscured by an olive military parka seemed to be asleep at the rear, his head bobbing to the jostling rhythm of the bus’s lurching gait. Sebastian and I took seats near the middle.
    “This is a grand adventure, isn’t it?” Sebastian said with a smile. He offered me the bag of books we’d bought, and I fished out my copy of Murder by the Stars, a sensational look at the astrological charts of famous serial killers, and he settled in with some esoteric book about Plato.
    I tried, but I couldn’t really focus on reading. I kept seeing familiar landmarks—oh, look, Kinhdo Restaurant; I love that place!—surrounded by entirely new buildings and businesses. Where was the old bike shop? That ice-cream shop used to be around the corner, didn’t it? When did Minneapolis put up so many slick-looking condos?
    Plus, occasionally, I’d see things that brought a whole different kind of memory back. As we passed the huge synagogue, I remembered turning down that side street often to visit an old friend who lived in one of those huge historic apartment buildings near Lake of the Isles. She had the coolest pocket doors