Ghostly Game (GhostWalkers #19) Read Online Christine Feehan

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: GhostWalkers Series by Christine Feehan
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Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
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She continued to stare up at the stars. The clouds had darkened slightly, but they moved with the breeze. Fingers of fog drifted across her patio. She liked the harbor at night. Lights shone on the water, and boats rocked and swayed with the tide. She had excellent hearing and very good eyesight, a trade-off for her faulty lungs. The sounds of the waves breaking against the piers and numerous fishing boats were a kind of lullaby, allowing her to relax after so many hours on her feet.

Rory had a memory that allowed her to remember names and faces better than most people. She didn’t forget drinks, not even if the customer hadn’t been in for a while. That was a gift that did make her a good bartender. She also had the uncanny ability to sense lies, but that didn’t help in the bartending business. It only prevented her from going on dates if she considered it at all.

The medicine had finally run out, so she could shut off the machine and just enjoy her favorite spot. As she carefully wrapped up the nebulizer and made her way across the rooftop patio to the weatherproof cupboard, a small bird flew past her ear. It was so close, the tip of its wing brushed her skin. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of wicked talons before an owl pulled up, screeching in dismay at missing its prey. Simultaneously, she heard a thunk as the sparrow hit the open cupboard door and dropped to the floor right at her feet.

Rory’s heart sank. She didn’t like any animal hurt or killed. The owl had to eat, so she couldn’t be upset at the owl. She had opened the cupboard without thinking as the sparrow approached, cutting off its escape. The little bird ran right into the door, which meant its demise—if it was dead—was on her.

She shoved the breathing machine into the cupboard and quickly closed and locked it before sinking down in a crouch. “Are you alive?” She placed one palm gently over the bird to feel the flutter of its heartbeat. A sigh of relief escaped her.

“I’m going to examine you to make sure you’re just stunned. I was afraid the door broke your neck the way you flew into it.” Rory sat on the floor and cuddled the bird in her palm while she gently moved two fingers over the delicate bones and feathers. “Everything seems to be okay. No broken bones. Your little beak isn’t cracked or broken. Your wings are good.” She rubbed gently with her two fingers on the bird’s chest in an effort to stimulate it.

The beak opened and closed. One foot twitched, the three toes with the thin, curved nails moving jerkily.

“That’s it, little one, come around. You need to be getting home, where you’re safe. What in the world were you doing out this time of night?”

Rory breathed warm air onto the bird and then straightened to tip her head back and look up at the stars again. The mist touched her face, feeling good on her skin. She was very tired and wanted to go to sleep, but she wouldn’t abandon the sparrow. She thought it best to keep the bird outside, where it could fly away the moment the creature was feeling better. In any case, since coming to San Francisco, her nightmares had been increasing.

It didn’t take long for the sparrow to open its eyes and regard her silently for a moment before it turned over in her palm and stood quietly, staring at her.

“I can see you’re still a little dazed,” Rory whispered, afraid to move. She didn’t want to frighten the sparrow after its scare with the owl. “We can just sit here for a few minutes until you’re fully recovered. I can see I’m going to have to look up what kind of bird you are and why you would be out at night.”

Rory was used to talking aloud to herself. The little bird righted itself, still looking at her, its dazed eyes winking open and closed. “I think the owl has moved on to find something else to eat for dinner, but you need to get back to your home and be safe.” She kept her voice soothing and very low, hoping to avoid scaring the sparrow.

The bird stayed in her palm rather than jumping out. It flapped its wings several times, all the while looking at her. Rory couldn’t detect fear. The sparrow seemed to be just fine standing in her palm.

After a few minutes of staring at one another, the sparrow finally hopped from Rory’s hand to her thigh and then to the patio floor. It hopped around the two raised flower beds she’d planted and flew onto them as if inspecting them. Finally, after another long look at Rory, the bird took off into the night.


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