Read Online Waking Anastasia by Timothy Reynolds - Free Book Online

whole, contained structure became involved. Fuel was consumed, heat was generated, and his new home was warmed immeasurably.
     
    THERE WAS AN odd change to the tone of the black abyss. The near constant vibration faded away and there was a new radiant warmth like she hadn’t felt since another lifetime. It offered a gentle reassurance she now clung to as the blackness tried to crowd back in. Thoughts of the young man interrupted her reverie, though, and she was heartened to think she might dream of him again soon.
     
     

Chapter Five
     
    @TheTaoOfJerr: “Music in the soul can be heard by the universe.”
    ~Lao Tzu
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    JERRY EVENTUALLY MOVED from the ottoman to the couch where he tumbled into a nearly dreamless sleep for two hours. He didn’t exactly dream, but there were hints of the young woman in black drifting at the edge of his mind. When he finally awoke, her fleeting images wafted away like mist in the sun. The fire was too low to generate much heat but still had plenty of energy to ignite the fresh log Jerry put on before wandering off to splash cold water on his face and relieve himself.
    Back at the couch, he checked his phone for messages then logged onto his browser to check his email account. There were two messages from Isis, his own copy of his pre-written and weekly-scheduled photography blog, and a reply from his insurance broker, Mostafah. On this one thing, he’d already been ahead of Manny. He’d emailed Mostafah as soon as he knew the new address and the move-in date.
    Not yet awake enough to deal with Isis, and not needing to read his own blog, Jerry opened Mostafah’s message confirming the change of address and recommending that he get an appraisal done on the little box of antiquities Mavis had bestowed upon him. An attachment listed three antique shops Mostafah’s Victoria counterparts recommended. The note pointed out that one of them was only a few blocks away from Jerry’s new home address.
     
    IN SPITE OF the gradual shift from driving through the various time zones between St. Marys and Victoria, Jerry’s body was still on Eastern Time, so he was up at five, scrambling a half-dozen eggs, chopping vegetables, and grating a small brick of cheese for a monster-sized omelette. He would have loved ham in it or bacon on the side, but since the headaches had started, the menu held no meat with nitrates for this sick puppy. He missed ham and bacon a bit, but what he really missed from the nitrate-rich, no-go-list was corned beef. There were days he nearly cried out for a Shopsy’s of Toronto corned beef stacked on rye with Dijon mustard and Swiss cheese. With luck, maybe he could find a place in Victoria that did for seafood what Shopsy’s did for deli dining. He just might be able to get used to the idea of fresh scallops, salmon, and a dill cream sauce instead of corned beef on rye. Maybe.
    He slipped the finished culinary masterpiece onto a plate, sprinkled the last of the cheddar and dill on top, then ground fresh pepper generously over the whole works. He used as little salt as possible, but loved his fresh-ground Telecherry pepper. He would have liked to relax and chill out, but he also hated sitting still when there was so much to do. He looked up Ipatiev Antiques online and found that they were three blocks away and opened at nine. He didn’t have to be at the station until noon—though he would arrive early as always—so including a walk to the antique store, he had plenty of time to unpack and get the place looking more like a home and less like a storage locker.
    He ate at the kitchen counter, high atop an oak stool, re-establishing his oldest tradition of reading while eating. It used to drive Haley crazy, so he’d stopped, at least when she was home. Today he was deep into the last chapter of D. B. Jackson’s historical fantasy, Thieftaker: Dead Man’s Reach —Jackson’s best to date, and Jerry had been hooked on the series since