Read Online Running Scared by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lowell
Ads: Link
O’Conner has a point,” Tim said, smiling.
Only Cherelle saw malice in the beautiful curve of her lover’s lips.
That was one of the problems with being smart in a world full of dumbs. You saw too much and most of the time couldn’t do squat about it.
Tim barely smothered his yawn.
She wanted to kick him in his ever-ready balls. He always left it all up to her. She had to carry off the whole channeling act with him yawning in her face.
“Of course.” Cherelle’s voice was smooth despite her anger and the constant prickling of gooseflesh on her body.
She really hated this place. Somehow she had to figure out what was in the boxes under Virgil’s bed, and then she could “channel” it to him straight from Merlin and get the hell out of here.
She shuddered. She couldn’t wait to see this creepy place in her rearview mirror for the last time.
With a toss of her head that sent her pale, elbow-length hair flying, Cherelle stepped around the wooden box until she stood in the small area at the center of the three rocks. And she damned her overactive imagination for making it feel darker and colder between the stones, empty, bottomless, like she was falling down a well.
She had done that once as a kid. It wasn’t one of her favorite memories. Lately channeling always reminded her of it. It was making her sick to her stomach.
Screw the past, she told herself. I got out of that trailer park, and I’m on my way to real money. No motel clerk with bad breath and dirty hands will ever look me over and ask for cash up front or a blow job behind the counter .
All she needed was one good break and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t blow all her money like a dumb. She was way too smart for that.
One good score.
Just one.
Holding on to her dream with every bit of her determination, Cherelle ignored the sickening lurch of her stomach. She forced herself to close her eyes and go into her channeling performance. Gradually she changed her breathing, deepened it, held it until she was almost dizzy, and slowly, slowly let it trickle out between her teeth. Most people did the channeling gig sitting down, but she had never liked putting her butt on bare ground. The one time she had brought a blanket to sit on, her ass had started itching like she was on a nest of fire ants.
So she stood up and breathed in and out, in and out, until the sound of her own breathing became a kind of liquid rushing, a whispering of phrases that described a shaft of white light flooding down on her, sheathing her, surrounding her, telling her . . .
Come on, come on, Virgil thought with an impatient glance at the eastern horizon. Get the damned channel open.
This was the hardest part of the whole process for him. Waiting, waiting, waiting to find out if it was going to happen tonight, if he was finally going to be free of the Druid curse that had ruined everything he touched since he first found the treasure. He never should have believed his great-uncle, never should have gone to Wales, never should have dug up the damned gold. Nothing but grief. Not one damn thing.
“. . . sense a presence,” she said in a low voice that wasn’t like her normal one. “Come closer, spirit. We wish no evil, ask nothing forbidden. We simply seek to . . .”
Pushing back a yawn with his fist, Tim tuned out Cherelle’s patter. He never could figure out why she hated doing her act at this pile of rocks so much. Day or night, rock piles or classy condos, the gig was always the same. She put on her ghost outfit, muttered a lot, told the dumbs what they wanted to hear, and then went home with enough money to pay the rent and buy some beer. Big deal. He would do it himself, but he couldn’t stop snickering long enough. Talking to Merlin or Melchizedek or Marilyn Monroe—what bullshit.
He clenched his teeth around another yawn. Man, this getting up in the middle of the night wasn’t for him. That was one of the reasons he had never made it as a
Only Cherelle saw malice in the beautiful curve of her lover’s lips.
That was one of the problems with being smart in a world full of dumbs. You saw too much and most of the time couldn’t do squat about it.
Tim barely smothered his yawn.
She wanted to kick him in his ever-ready balls. He always left it all up to her. She had to carry off the whole channeling act with him yawning in her face.
“Of course.” Cherelle’s voice was smooth despite her anger and the constant prickling of gooseflesh on her body.
She really hated this place. Somehow she had to figure out what was in the boxes under Virgil’s bed, and then she could “channel” it to him straight from Merlin and get the hell out of here.
She shuddered. She couldn’t wait to see this creepy place in her rearview mirror for the last time.
With a toss of her head that sent her pale, elbow-length hair flying, Cherelle stepped around the wooden box until she stood in the small area at the center of the three rocks. And she damned her overactive imagination for making it feel darker and colder between the stones, empty, bottomless, like she was falling down a well.
She had done that once as a kid. It wasn’t one of her favorite memories. Lately channeling always reminded her of it. It was making her sick to her stomach.
Screw the past, she told herself. I got out of that trailer park, and I’m on my way to real money. No motel clerk with bad breath and dirty hands will ever look me over and ask for cash up front or a blow job behind the counter .
All she needed was one good break and she would be set for life. She wouldn’t blow all her money like a dumb. She was way too smart for that.
One good score.
Just one.
Holding on to her dream with every bit of her determination, Cherelle ignored the sickening lurch of her stomach. She forced herself to close her eyes and go into her channeling performance. Gradually she changed her breathing, deepened it, held it until she was almost dizzy, and slowly, slowly let it trickle out between her teeth. Most people did the channeling gig sitting down, but she had never liked putting her butt on bare ground. The one time she had brought a blanket to sit on, her ass had started itching like she was on a nest of fire ants.
So she stood up and breathed in and out, in and out, until the sound of her own breathing became a kind of liquid rushing, a whispering of phrases that described a shaft of white light flooding down on her, sheathing her, surrounding her, telling her . . .
Come on, come on, Virgil thought with an impatient glance at the eastern horizon. Get the damned channel open.
This was the hardest part of the whole process for him. Waiting, waiting, waiting to find out if it was going to happen tonight, if he was finally going to be free of the Druid curse that had ruined everything he touched since he first found the treasure. He never should have believed his great-uncle, never should have gone to Wales, never should have dug up the damned gold. Nothing but grief. Not one damn thing.
“. . . sense a presence,” she said in a low voice that wasn’t like her normal one. “Come closer, spirit. We wish no evil, ask nothing forbidden. We simply seek to . . .”
Pushing back a yawn with his fist, Tim tuned out Cherelle’s patter. He never could figure out why she hated doing her act at this pile of rocks so much. Day or night, rock piles or classy condos, the gig was always the same. She put on her ghost outfit, muttered a lot, told the dumbs what they wanted to hear, and then went home with enough money to pay the rent and buy some beer. Big deal. He would do it himself, but he couldn’t stop snickering long enough. Talking to Merlin or Melchizedek or Marilyn Monroe—what bullshit.
He clenched his teeth around another yawn. Man, this getting up in the middle of the night wasn’t for him. That was one of the reasons he had never made it as a
Similar Books
