The ghost grunted as she tried to pass him, grabbing her faster than she could move out of the way. A big, meaty, dusty hand covered her nose and mouth, cutting off not only the scream, but her air supply. The specter’s other arm wound around her body and yanked her against him, struggling, horrified and quickly losing the ability to breathe.
Francine heard thunderous footsteps coming from the direction of the front of the house.Raphael!
The man closing off her precious oxygen intake spoke in her ear, “I’m sorry I scared you. Please don’t scream again, okay?” He sounded less ghost-like and more…like a reasonable, corporeal being. What was going on?
Raphael charged into the room, the expression on his face murderous. The minute he saw them in an intimate position, Raphael stopped cold. He squinted, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Victor? What are you doing here?”
Victor?
Francine didn’t have time to think about who might have arrived for a visit, she was dangerously close to passing out from lack of air. She sagged in her captor’s arms. He released his hand from her face immediately. She staggered, taking a wobbly step toward Raphael and sucking in deep breaths of air.
Raphael was by her side in a flash, holding her up, running his hand thorough her hair, uttering question after question, asking if she was okay. She couldn’t immediately speak. She was trying to breathe.
“I’m so sorry,” Victor said. “I panicked when you screamed.”
Francine nodded. In a weak voice, she said, “That’s okay. I’m okay now.”
“No, it’s not,” Raphael said angrily. “I told you not to appear until after dark.”
“I couldn’t wait.”
“Why not?”
“Someone found me.”
“Who?”
“Don’t know. That’s why I scurried up here.”
Francine was confused.What is going on here?Where had Victor been hiding? How had he gotten into the room? Was she really dead and only dreaming all of this?
The sudden and very hostile pounding on the front door made Francine jump. At least she was in Raphael’s arms. He squeezed her tight, once. “I’ll go see who wants to break our door down, okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. Really. Just had a good scare, you know?”
“Again, I’m really sorry.” Victor, who looked like the Ghost of Christmas Past, did look and sound sincere.
Pound. Pound. Pound.The front door practically rattled in its frame.
“Good grief, what are they knocking with, a tree trunk?”
Raphael released her and strode out of the room, leaving her with Victor Campion. How extraordinary.
Francine looked down at her white shirt, liberally coated in pale gray dust and whatever Victor had all over his clothes. She brushed her palms over her shirt and slacks, trying to dislodge what she could. Victor looked sheepish and started doing the same thing to his clothes. After a few pats of his large hands, it looked worse.
“Stop. That’s not helping. You’re going to need soap and water to clean up,” Francine said, pointing to the bathroom. “Or perhaps you could just burn your outfit and start over.”
His low bark of laughter was unexpected, but he took a step in the direction of the bathroom.
Pound. Pound.
Francine heard Raphael open the front door with an exasperated greeting. She had gotten most of the dust off, but decided not to appear next to Raphael, at least not until she heard the unmistakable voice of a woman echo in the foyer.
Who couldthatbe?
Without thinking it through, Francine walked purposefully toward the front door in time to see an achingly beautiful woman with raven-black hair and blazing blue eyes throw her arms around Raphael’s neck and hug him. When the woman looked like she was about to kiss him on the mouth, Francine made a noise somewhere between a growl of fury and a grunt of warning.
