Ghost of a Chance Read Online Free PDF

to give her the satisfaction of a
reaction. “A cleaning, yes.”
    She looked at me with as much indignation as
my father did. Despite my better intentions, it put me on the
defensive. “I don’t like the job any better than you do, but I am the only licensed TAE in the area, and there are
extenuating circumstances.”
    “Suuure,” she drawled. “So how many spirits
will you be killing tonight? I get to watch, right?”
    “For someone who professes such abhorrence
of the subject of cleaning, you certainly are jumping on the
opportunity to watch.”
    “They used to have public executions, you
know. My foster dad said they were really popular.”
    I reminded myself that she would be with me
only a month and, more importantly, that I’d survived worse
calamities. “I have no idea how many beings there will be; that’s
why we’re going out to check the house now. I need to see who and
what is there to be cleaned… if anything. As for you coming along…”
I paused for a moment. “We’ll see.”
    Pixie pulled out an iPod and dismissed me as
we drove back to town.
    Although the Olympic Peninsula was best
known to tourists for its spooky rain forests, glorious mountain
range, and fiercely beautiful coastline, the shallow, quiet inlets
were what I loved best. Short stretches of smooth sand dotted with
sandpipers and other shorebirds were tucked away between jagged
edges of coast. The calm, protected waters in which waterfowl
paddled around with contented pleasure provided a peaceful haven.
Sea lions sunned themselves on the sandbars while overhead gulls
and terns dipped and rose on the air currents, singing a harsh song
of life on the water. I breathed deeply of the sharp tang of the
sea air as we followed a narrow road along the shoreline, a stubby
spit of land curving in a half-moon to create a small calm lagoon
populated by birds and wildlife. Above it, a dull red Victorian
house sat hulking against the skyline.
    “It looks haunted,” Pixie said in a voice
rich with perverted satisfaction. “Very haunted. With, like, really
evil spirits and things.”
    “You should know better than to make such
gross generalizations. Regardless, it’s hardly something we can
tell until we get there,” I said calmly, although my heart rate
sped up as the car climbed a twisting road that finally emerged at
the crown of the hill. I was pathetically aware of the undertone of
worry in my voice.
    The house was even more impressive when
viewed close-up. Built to last, it had a wide covered verandah that
ran around three-quarters of it, cupolas fringed with delicate
gingerbread trim, and, at the top, a widow’s walk that must have
commanded a tremendous view of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
    “ Deus! What’s that? It’s horrible !”
    I looked to where Pixie was pointing. A
woman strolled around from the far side of the verandah. She looked
like something from a Fleetwood Mac video, dressed in a long, filmy
gown, a flower garland on her head, ribbons fluttering in
waist-length golden hair that fell in long ringlets.
    “Don’t worry, Pix… er… Desdemona. She’s not
a spirit.”
    “I know that. But it’s still
horrible! She’s all flowery ! It’s positively ghastly !”
    “To each his own,” I said, unable to keep
from shooting a pointed look at Pixie’s lace skirt and black and
white-striped leggings, visible below the bottom of her cape. “Do
you have a glamour handy?”
    She shook her head, a mulish look on her
face. “Mrs. Beckett said it’s bad to rely on glamours, and we
should work on other techniques to blend into the mortal
world.”
    “Yeah, well, sometimes a polter has no other
choice but to use a glamour to hide the extra arms. Since you don’t
have one, and I have no idea who this is, keep your cape on, just
in case it’s someone unaware of the Otherworld.”
    “Oh, I’m very good at hiding the truth about
myself.”
    I didn’t have time to wonder what on earth
she meant before the woman spotted us.