Copyright © 2006 Debbie Mumford
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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Red's spirits lifted and he pressed his nose against his glass prison and stared hungrily across the room. Yes! The snooty female stood mere feet from him, making notes with a black stylus on a small tablet. Oh, she would do nicely. Tall for a female, she possessed delectable curves and flaming red hair. The hair settled his malicious intent. She wore it pulled back in a severe knot, but escaping tendrils confirmed his impression of long, riotous curls. The perfect scapegoat.
Now, he needed a man. He flowed to the right edge of his prison and inspected the fingers carefully pushing his glass into place. This one had felt Red's flame when his unprotected flesh touched the surface of Red's prison. He sniffed. Ah, of course, Celtic blood -- and a connection already established. Red rolled across his glass in a series of exuberant somersaults, glad to be alive for the first time in ages.
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Copyright © 2006 Debbie Mumford
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
"Wait," said the woman. She turned to face Ray, and he saw that her eyes were bright with an emotion he couldn't identify. "I really think you should have this gentleman move your things upstairs to the room Maureen prepared for you." She took a step closer to Ray, glanced toward the deck, and lowered her voice. "This room has a, well, um, a reputation. They say it's haunted."
Ray stared at her for a moment, but failed to see the expected glint of laughter in her eyes. He glanced around the room and said, "Ridiculous. This is a perfectly lovely room and I have no intention of racing up and down stairs all day." He paid the cab driver and sent him on his way.