A Shiver of Shadows by Hunter J. Skye

Author:Hunter J. Skye [Skye, Hunter J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy female lead; paranormal ghost romance novel; ghost lover romance; kickass heroine paranormal romance; vampire romance; supernatural roma
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2021-03-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

How could anything be worse than a pestilent den of curse-dripping, mummified thieves?

Melisande

We tried to relace Prim’s pants and fasten my halter top, but they wouldn’t stay. Thankfully, Prim had enough euros stowed in her cleavage to buy herself a new pair of pants and me a new top. We changed behind a tent. My gaze bounced over the food cart next to us. The peanut encrusted clumps of meat on skewers and cups of shrimp cocktail embedded in ice called to me. My stomach growled again as we snaked our way toward the archway and the world outside.

“I’ve got food at my place,” Primrose informed me and picked up the pace. Everything looked delicious, but I could wait. Putting some distance between us and the Thieves Market was top priority, no matter how hungry I might be.

We plunged into the darkness under the archway and, a few steps later, we emerged beneath the Bishop’s Walk. Prim found a deep doorway just before the opening to the alley where the little old woman sat. We scuttled in and slid to the ground.

“Thank you.” I had so many questions, but conveying my appreciation was more important.

“You’re welcome.”

We listened to our heaving breaths for a moment, while we rested in a corner of the recessed entryway. A row of weakly lit buzzers glowed next to a shabby list of peeling names. From the looks of it, at least six people had an apartment right off the Thieves Market. I crossed myself in the darkness and prayed they wouldn’t be home tomorrow just after sunset.

“So, you’re a Doomsayer?”

She nodded.

“Like I said, if it’s bad, I can see it coming.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re a little dead girl?”

I shrugged.

“Some of my synaptic pathways are dead.” I pointed to my head. “It helps me talk to ghosts.”

Her eyebrows raised.

I lifted my hands in the shadows and icy chains crawled from my palms. Prim tentatively touched a fingertip to one of the hissing, frost-wrapped manifestations.

“Ouch.” She yanked her finger away. “Does that hurt your hands?”

“Sometimes it burns a little. It depends on how much will I use. The stronger the chain the colder they are.” I crushed the chains in my fists, and they vanished into vapor. “They only work on ghosts. To humans, they’re just ice.”

“Is this why the vampires want you?”

“The vampires,” it felt weird to say the word, “didn’t explain exactly what they wanted from me. Just what I told you before.”

“I’m sorry to say it, but even with the bracelet gone, there’s still an aura of tragedy around you.”

I hugged my knees to my chest and rocked a few times.

“Does that mean I’m going to die?” I couldn’t believe I’d asked that. I could be a little morose from time to time, but no one wanted to know if they were going to die—except for thieving mummies. I thought to clap my hands over my ears or sing the theme song to one of my favorite childhood television shows really loudly so I

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