Unhaunted: A White Crow Mystery by Trisha Slay

Author:Trisha Slay [Slay, Trisha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947592018
Publisher: Lost Hollow Press
Published: 2018-03-06T06:00:00+00:00

15

Before

The night after I told LaShawna everything, I slept the deep, exhausted, dreamless sleep that only comes to someone who has been trapped under the weight of the world then found a way to escape.

That was the magic of LaShawna. She may not see ghosts or hear the voices of the dead. She may not have x-ray vision into the darkest secrets of someone’s soul. She certainly couldn’t outrun a speeding bullet or leap tall buildings in a single bound. But LaShawna knew how to listen, knew when to believe. And when she looked into my eyes and said, “I’ve got this,” I knew absolutely and without a shadow of doubt that she would stand up for us. For all of us. For Ivy and for Jazz and for me.

Yes, that was the magic of LaShawna … and Kota, too. They had this. Little girls would be saved. Bad men would pay. And I would be able to go back to my regularly scheduled, screwed up life.

The next morning, the sunlight streaming though my bedroom window seemed lighter, brighter. There wasn’t the slightest hint of a shadow in my room. No tree branches sprouting across my walls. No whispering in my ear. I was alone. My relief was tinged by a hint of sadness. I didn’t want anything to do with Ivy Brennan when she first appeared. With her perfect blonde Barbie doll face, I did not want to invite her in. But in a very short time, I’d grown to love her a little. So there was a twinge of sadness at her absence. And yet I wanted her to move on, to be at peace. Of course I did.

Three sharp knocks on my bedroom door startled me, then my mother burst into the room full of bubbly energy.

“Good morning, Daughter Dearest,” she sang out, hurrying into the center of my room then twirling to face me. A white silk robe embroidered with cherry blossoms swirled with her, fluttering around her arms and bare legs. I’d never seen the robe before. It looked expensive.

Her golden coffee skin, bare of any makeup, glowed to perfection from head to toe. Obviously, she’d spent lots of time at a spa yesterday. And her hair! I blinked, unable to believe my eyes. She traded in the usual ultra-smooth Brazilian weave for what was supposed to be a more “natural” look—a glossy mass of loose corkscrew curls that cascaded over her shoulders. She twirled one curl with a pink-tipped finger. Add a new manicure to the tally.

“What do you think?” she asked. In the morning light, I could see dollar signs hovering in the air around her.

“Wow,” I said, truly dazzled by her new version of glamour even while my stomach clenched in anger at all the money she must have spent to create this transformation.

She giggled. She actually giggled. I’d never heard my mother giggle outside the presence of a man in my entire life. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she drank a bottle of champagne for breakfast.

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