Flesh Gothic by Edward Lee Read Online Free PDF

lazing back in the seat. "I guess we all do in one way or another.
People in our business."

    Guilt, Adrianne thought. It brought a secret satisfaction.
Shame. She knows her life is a festival of Christian sin...
    "And then the guy disappears, almost as if the rite succeeded. Almost like he opened an egress and went in."
    There was some fire in Adrianne's objection. "He didn't
disappear," she said, flipping through the front pocket of her
own carry-on. "He committed suicide after the fact. The
body was recovered from the house and autopsied. He
hanged himself."
    Cathleen just kept looking straight ahead, eyes closed.
"There was only one obituary in the very back of the local
paper. You found that?"
    She flapped her a photocopy. "I have this, and I have the
police report and the preliminary of the post."
    Cathleen took the sheet, looked at it with little interest,
and passed it back. "Don't be naive."
    "How do you know?" Adrianne exclaimed, this time almost to the point that her voice could be overheard.
    Cathleen sighed wearily, still with her eyes closed.
"Adrianne... "
    "What? You've had a contact?"
    "Relax. You're always so hyper... "
    Adrianne fumed in silence. Damn her. She probably didn't
have a contact but just wants me to think she did. It infuriated
her, but the only thing that infuriated her more was how
this stunning, beautiful woman could bring out all her inadequacies at once.
    "Let's just wait till we get there. Maybe you're right.
Maybe the whole thing's a sham, and if that's true ... so
what? We're just doing a job. People pay us to do a job because they believe in us. If we knew in advance that this was just some kooky woman with a ton of money and that this
Hildreth house was uncharged, totally cold, and totally ordinary, what would we do?"

    Adrianne admitted it. "We'd go anyway, for the money."
    "Yes. Of course we would. Because we're mercenaries
just like anybody else with a skill. If somebody hires a roofer
to put on a new roof, but the roofer can see that the old roof
is fine, then he puts on a new roof anyway ... because that's
what the customer wants."
    Is that really what we are? Adrianne wondered. She didn't
dwell much on the answer.
    "I read on a website that all your PK is dead," Adrianne
said next, to change the unpleasant subject. "That's not
true, is it?"
    Suddenly Adrianne's plastic meal tray flapped down in
her lap. She pushed it back and slid the clip back over.
"Funny."
    "I just don't do it anymore, I just tell people I can't,"
Cathleen admitted. "It's too much of a headache. Especially
since the accident. I'm sure you heard about that."
    Of course Adrianne had-everyone in the field had. A
TV documentary on psychic power. Several strong men
lifted a two-by-four wall frame off the ground to waist
level. Another man-the show's producer crawled under
it, and then the others let go of the frame's edge. It hovered
in mid-air for several seconds, then fell. The producer got
several cracked ribs and a broken nose.
    "I guess this sounds terrible, but I don't feel that bad
about it," Cathleen went on. "About the guy who got hurt,
I mean. I was just dating him-well, I mean I was cheating
on my husband with him-and the son of a bitch actually
threatened me. Said he'd tell my husband about our affair if
I didn't do a spot on his dumb TV show."

    "Some people get what's coming to them," Adrianne
agreed. "They treat us like we're animals in a petting zoo."
    "Mm-hmm. Sometimes it's hard not to resent just about
everybody." Cathleen turned suddenly, touched Adrianne's
arm. "Oh, but here's a story you haven't heard-at least I
hope not. A couple of years ago I was dating this guy who
was a professional bowler. He'd just barely made the cut to
get on the PBA tour. So all of a sudden he starts throwing
these really great games, beating everybody-"
    "Was it really you?" Adrianne asked.
    Cathleen nodded, grinning. "I was sitting in the audience. Any time he needed a