Avenging Angels

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Avenging Angels Page 24

by Mary Stanton


  Bree folded the newspaper carefully and set it on the fireplace mantel, just under the gilded mirror left to her by Uncle Franklin. She tilted her head back slightly. The mottled glass reflected the living room behind her: the worn, comfortable couch; Sasha fast asleep under the coffee table; a glimpse of the foyer where Eddie Chin’s body had lain less than a week ago.

  Where Bree herself stood, the mirror showed only a column of faint silver light, encasing a tall, slim shadow with a cascade of hair.

  Bree closed her eyes and fought off the clutch of fear inside her heart.

  “You taking today off, or what?”

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Antonia slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a quick hug. “Awful about Sir Ciaran, isn’t it?”

  Bree opened her eyes and stared up at the mirror. For a horrible, heart-stopping moment, Antonia stood there alone, with the couch, the coffee table, the dog, all reflected behind her, as if Bree herself didn’t exist.

  “That is so weird,” Antonia said. “Look! If the angle’s wrong, you can’t see yourself at all! Just me!” She placed both palms under the bottom of the frame and shoved it straight. “There you are!’ she said cheerfully. “You’re back in the picture!”

  Bree stood with her arm tucked into Antonia’s, her own silvery blonde hair next to her sister’s deep red curls. She reached up and touched the cold glass. “You remember that time I got caught in that undertow at Tybee Beach?”

  Antonia frowned. “What in the world made you think of that?”

  “I got myself out, didn’t I?”

  “You would have gotten out faster if you’d thought to yell for help,” Antonia said. “But as usual, you figured on doing it yourself.”

  “But I got myself out,” Bree said. She stared defiantly into the mirror. “And I can do it again, if I have to.”

  “Whatever,” Antonia said. “You going to give me a ride downtown or not?”

  ALSO FROM MARY STANTON

  ANGEL’S Advocate

  Money’s been tight ever since Brianna Winston-Beaufort inherited Savannah’s haunted law firm Beaufort & Company—along with its less-than-angelic staff. But she’s finally going to tackle a case that pays the bills, representing a spoiled girl who robbed a Girl Scout. But soon enough Bree finds that her client’s departed millionaire father needs help, too. Can she help an unsavory father/daughter duo and make a living off of the living?

  penguin.com

 

 

 


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