You Light Up My Midlife Crisis: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good to the Last Death Book Five by Robyn Peterman

You Light Up My Midlife Crisis: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good to the Last Death Book Five by Robyn Peterman

Author:Robyn Peterman [Peterman , Robyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robyn Peterman
Published: 2021-05-23T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Nine

“Did you say weed nuns?” Prue asked Tim, wrinkling her nose in disbelief while sitting on the couch with her sister and brothers.

They looked wary and uncomfortable, but they were doing their best to fit in and not get electrocuted by the Grim Reaper—who was itching to set them ablaze. Prue and Abby had even conjured themselves up some yoga pants, tennis shoes and sweaters, thinking that was the uniform. I held my tongue and was thankful the men weren’t wearing yoga pants as well. Truthfully, I felt sorry for them, but I reminded myself that they could have cared less if I was dead. Their absence at the showdown with Clarissa spoke ugly volumes that were hard to deny.

After a lengthy negotiation where Gideon had threatened an electrocution that would leave the four Angels without four of their five senses for an eon, they grudgingly agreed to behave. Mentioning Zadkiel’s displeasure with them helped as well. The retired and obnoxiously cryptic Angel of Mercy struck fear in my siblings.

I was concerned that our definitions of behave might vary, but time was of the essence. Forgiveness was going to be hard to achieve if they were locked in a cage. They were my best bet so far since they were the ones least deserving of forgiveness. As soon as my dad came back, we’d give it a shot.

The Grim Reaper had warned he would take their sight, hearing, and ability to taste and smell. He would graciously leave them with the sense of touch so they could experience the pain that he promised he would happily administer daily for the next couple of centuries. The entire conversation was violent. However, it worked. Angels and Demons were interesting breeds.

“I did say weed nuns,” Tim replied, nodding in excitement.

“Pot penguins,” Candy announced, sitting next to Sister Catherine on the overstuffed chair.

The two had bonded after Candy mooned the ghost and offered to share her toothpicks. The nun couldn’t actually use a toothpick since she was dead, but clearly appreciated the gesture. They made a motley pair, but both seemed pleased by the new friendship.

Gram was thrilled Candy had made a buddy even if she was a ghost. Gram had spent a good half hour trying to explain how baring your ass in public wasn’t ladylike. Neither woman seemed to grasp the idea… or care. My understanding of nuns was getting a workout. Although, I suspected Sister Catherine might be an outlier as far as holy women went.

The Angels, while behaving, kept a healthy distance from Candy Vargo. Every time Candy spoke, they paled. An idea occurred to me, and I tucked it into the back of my mind for later. One thing at a time. Zadkiel had said there were endless avenues to pursue to find the correct answers. Not really helpful, but I was making a list of side roads just in case the main avenues were filled with traffic.

“In Northern California, a sisterhood grows cannabis,” Tim said. “The sisters



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