Dance of Flames by Janni Nell

Author:Janni Nell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-11-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

I returned to the villa to find a sliver of light beneath the door of my room. There were small sounds within, shuffling followed by a feminine sigh of exasperation. I pushed open the door, revealing a stranger on her hands and knees. At first I thought she was cleaning the floor then I realized she was searching for something. She sniffed like a dog on a scent and dug her hands into one of the boxes containing Consuela’s possessions.

“You looking for something?” I demanded.

She startled and leaped to her feet. She was younger than me—late teens, maybe early twenties. Her dark hair was cut in a shaggy style. Thick-rimmed glasses hid her eyes, but her lips were fashionably plump. She was slim beneath her black skirt and blouse. Her feet were bare. To make less noise when she was creeping around?

“I am Emilia,” she said. “New maid. I clean your room.”

“At dawn?”

“Good maid start early.”

Her pretended innocence pissed me off. She was snooping. I should know. I was an expert snooper myself.

“Get out,” I said, “and don’t come in my room again. Not even to clean. Got it?”

“Señora Hampton not be happy,” she said, shaking her head mournfully.

“Leave her to me.”

“Sí. Sí. Sorry to make bother.” She scurried away.

I bolted my door from the inside. You couldn’t lock it from the outside, which was a bit of a bummer. After going through Consuela’s things twice, I was convinced that the only thing missing from the boxes was the obsidian. That was okay. I’d taken the precaution of hiding it before I’d left for Madrid.

Pulling up the loose floorboard, I made sure the black rock was still in the small space beneath. I longed to smash it right away, but Casper had told me to wait. Apparently releasing an evil soul shouldn’t be done in a populated area. Possession of any bystanders was a real danger once the soul was released. Casper was currently searching for just the right place. He’d let me know when he found it.

After replacing the floorboard and rug, I took the cocktail umbrella from my pocket and put it in the drawer of my nightstand. Hard to believe the fragile pink paper and tiny wooden ribs were strong enough to shatter rock. I tried not to think about it too much. If I did, I’d begin to doubt.

I lay on the bed fully dressed. Too wired to sleep. But what do you know? I was soon pushing up zzz’s like a champion. Along with sleep came dreams. Bugger.

My homespun clothes were ragged and stained with blood. My wrists were bound behind my back. A boy, maybe nine or ten, piled bone-dry kindling around my bare feet. The savage sun drew sweat from my pores, giving me a taste of the burning horror to come.

I knew this was a dream, and dreams couldn’t hurt you, right? But the burn on my thigh had already proved that theory wrong. Whatever injuries I suffered in this nightmare would be with me when I awoke.

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