Dark Demon Rising: Whisperings Paranormal Mystery book seven by Welch Linda

Author:Welch, Linda [Welch, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Nordic Valley Books
Published: 2015-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

The New York City landscape spread beneath us as far as my eye could see. Earlier, I heard Chris tell Royal he always avoided the hell in JFK, and flying into Newark International Airport meant taking the Holland Tunnel to lower Manhattan, and at this time of the evening that route added more than an hour to the drive. So we made for LaGuardia. Maggie still slept deeply when we landed. Although the inability to talk to anyone bored me out of my skull, waking her seemed a shame.

We waited more than half an hour for a gate to come available. Ever the gentleman, Chris gently shook Maggie’s shoulder, a glass of ice water in his other hand.

“Wha . . . ?” Maggie pushed up with one hand and slumped on the sofa’s back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Are we there?”

“Here, my pretty.” Chris offered the glass.

Maggie didn’t take her eyes off him as she took the glass and sipped. She handed it back, and conscious of her rumpled appearance, raked her fingers through her short teal-colored hair. Chris rose and held his free hand to her, but she struggled upright unassisted, adjusted her clothes and grabbed the backpack.

Ushered out by a smiling Mercedes, Royal, Chris and Maggie exited the jet and walked into LaGuardia’s Marine Air Terminal. From there they trekked to the central terminal. I lost track of the ramps and corridors we passed through as I clung to Maggie’s aura, but we entered the airport proper in no time at all.

They went through the airport as if on greased heels. Airport personnel stood at every corner, every door, to direct them. I know money talks but I never heard it jingle so loudly.

Chris thanked everyone, but Royal strode on as if he didn’t see them. I hated what my misfortune had done to him. I wanted the Royal I knew, not this stern, obsessed, inflexible man.

As always, a host of people waited for disembarking passengers.

“Ah, there we are.” Chris waved one hand like royalty.

A man in brown leather jacket and pants held a large sign declaring “PLOWMAN,” in capital letters.

Chris made a beeline for the chauffeur. “Our driver.”

Royal abruptly stopped walking. “Our? Chris, you are not coming with us.”

Slightly ahead, Chris also stopped, turned and arched a narrow eyebrow. “I think I am, dear boy.”

“No. I already bear the weight of guilt for bringing Maggie to satisfy my own desires, I will not—”

“Excuse me?” Maggie said with mock indignation. “You might want to rephrase that.”

Royal’s eyebrows came together in a heavy scowl. “I mean my desire to talk to Tiff.”

Maggie looked away and spoke beneath her breath. “Oh, relax, will you.”

“He’s not himself,” I said, and quickly added, “No, don’t answer me!” Loonies who talk to themselves are not allowed in airports.

Maggie took a cell phone from her jacket pocket and looked at it as she spoke. “Hey, Tiff, how you doing?” She fiddled with her ear beneath her hair, as if adjusting a Bluetooth earpiece.

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