Muse Unexpected Read Online Free PDF Page B

joke, Sophie and Angelo had purchased a novelty doorbell that could play hundreds of songs thanks to a memory stick. Today’s selection was “La Cucaracha.” Last week it had been the Greek standard “Never on a Sunday.” She broke out into nervous, hysterical laughter.
    She got to her knees and stood up, noticing she had bruised her thigh and with some hesitation reached over and turned the doorknob. The piece of wood that cracked when she forced the door open fell and clattered onto the cement stoop.
    Standing in front of her was a deliveryman holding a bouquet of red roses.
    “Mrs. Drago?” the man said, reading the delivery form. He didn’t bother to hide his surprise at her appearance. The look in his eyes told her she looked as crazy as she felt.
    “I’m sorry,” she began, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I had just closed the door, when you rang. It gave me quite a shock.”
    “Oops, my bad. I have a delivery for you,” the man said.
    “Thank you,” she said behind the large bouquet. “Let me get you a—”
    As the words fell from her mouth, the deliveryman shoved the roses at her and rushed back to his truck. With some hesitation, she glanced at her front yard. It was perfect, not a single leaf out of place, and judging by the way her neighbor waved good morning to her, Callie’s yard lacked any sort of hellish visions. She kicked the piece of broken woodwork into the house. Closing the door behind her, she reached over and slid the deadbolt into its locked position.
    She walked into the kitchen, placing the flowers on the counter and then eased herself down into a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing her bruised thigh. All of a sudden she burst into laughter again, realizing the mere sight of her in the morning was enough to ward off even the most aggressive deliverymen.
    Her mind couldn’t let go of the newspaper and its horrible picture. She retrieved the paper and carried it into the kitchen.
    She shook her head as she smoothed out the wrinkled paper and began reading.
    “Those poor people. How horrible.”
    Several Cleveland teenagers had thrown a party at a fellow student’s house. No adults were present. No explanation could be given for what happened to them. Police were called to the house when neighbors complained of screaming. They couldn’t get the door open and had to break through one of the windows. The bodies were found throughout the wrecked house. Each teenager had a dog collar around his or her throat. The leather of the collar was embedded into the throat of each victim, demonstrating each had been tortured before his or her necks were crushed. Each had the same brand, written in Greek, on their right wrist.
    “Nothos,” Callie said, recalling the definition of the word. “Mutt, mongrel. That which is considered beneath the gods to see. Those deserving the wrath of Olympus by their mere existence. The living scourge.”
    I don’t know what to do . The Omen. A black omen. By all that is holy, I will kill who ever...
    “But, my past is behind me. I drive carpool. I’m a member of the PTA. I recycle. I collect cans for Cat Welfare. I donate $18 each month to ASPCA. I have a damn gate to paint. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
    She paused. Shoot…shoot…shoot . What was it trying to tell me? Those poor children. It all has to be connected. What am I going to do? What the hell. Who….
    “Stop it, Callie. You’re babbling like a hysterical little girl. Nobody gives a damn about your carpool. People are being murdered. Maybe it isn’t connected. Maybe it was just a mindless apparition.”
    Don’t be stupid, mindless apparitions don’t just appear out of nowhere . Something was coming.
    Her instinct told her they were all in danger.
    She breathed in and out slowly, hoping it would calm her heart. She wondered what Sophie would have thought of the Greek tragedy she had experienced a few seconds ago and a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She had to