Read Online The Flip by Michael Phillip Cash - Free Book Online

his hands balling into fists. Tessa and he had come to a sort of comfortable relationship after all these years together. He liked to think of them as an old married couple. Usually it was just the two of them. With the occasional intruder, he allowedTessa her mild flirtations. And there were the Sentinels, of course. She terrorized the crack addicts—they were so unattractive he had never interfered—but this was a whole different story. Tessa was intrigued. Lit up like an incandescent flame, she was back to her old tricks. She primped in front of her imaginary mirror, singing. He puffed up with indignation. She never did those things for him. He stalked across the landing past the handsome man, filled with resentment.
    “He is gorgeous.” Tessa taunted Gerald, circling Brad like a predator, her eyes drinking in his muscular build. “Look at his hands; he is so sensitive. I bet he would know how to make me feel like a woman.”
    “Enough!” Gerald yelled at her, stoppingwhen he saw the satisfied look on her face. Anger never worked with her. They knew each other so well after all these years. She thrived on his pain. Changing his tactics, he teased her instead. “Honey, you’re so old, they’d call you a saber-toothed tiger instead of a cougar,” Gerald snickered. Tessa’s face changed, turning white, her teeth elongating into fangs. She raced back at him, her eyes black pits of coal. “Save it for the tourists, Tessa. Doing that makes you look like an old hag.” He floated away, his laughter echoing off the walls.
    Brad looked around. He heard something. His gray eyes scanned the high ceilings but could discern nothing in the gloom. He took the stairs lightly, the handrail smooth under his callousedhand. He paused at the Joan of Arc stained glass window, shaking his head. He understood flowers, even animals, but Joan of Arc? There was something eerily depressing about a stained glass window decorated with a martyred saint. He bowed to her gallantly and then bounded up to the next story. Soon he found himself at the top level of the house. A door beckoned to him from the ceiling. There was no rope to pull it down. He looked around, spying an old chair. Climbing up, he reached over his head to pull down the attic door.
    The chair wobbled; Brad glanced down the railing, the potential three-story fall giving him vertigo. It was a long way down, he thought, gulping. His bum leg protested, reminding him itwas just healed. He reached forward, his fingers scrabbling at the opening. Lurching, he started to weave, feeling himself losing his balance. The air gelled. He thought dispassionately that he was going to fall, and it was going to be messy. Two of the chair’s legs lifted off the ratty carpet, and Brad’s mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. Like a manipulated marionette, the chair righted itself, pulling him away from the railing. It landed with a hard thud, jarring him, but he knew he was safe.
That was close
, he thought. He got down shakily and sat on the top stair, his legs wobbly, his heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest. He wiped the sweat beading his brow. He had almost fallen, of that he was sure. He just didn’t know what had prevented it. Taking a deep breath, he climbed onto the chairagain, tentatively reaching for the ceiling, latching on to the pull so he could yank open the door to the attic. It fell forward, creaking on its rusty hinges. A blast of hot air hit him full in the face. Heart pounding in his chest, he paused to look back at the chandelier, now that he was at eye level with it. It was a monster, all cut glass in a million small pieces. It appeared to spin slowly, creating a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors. Brad’s skin prickled, and he felt the caress of a light breeze travel up his spine.
    Tessa drew close to the human. The Sentinel had pulled him to safety. She hated their interference. Just when she had control of a situation, they would step in to block her from