Blessed by Sapphires (A Dance with Destiny Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

all of downtown rush hour traffic. That’s how.”
    I looked around at the hundreds of unseeing eyes now focused solely on me.
    I can only describe the look on his stern face as… cross. “Do you have a death wish or something?”
    “Yes. Yes, I do,” I whispered. “Can you hear thoughts? Do you see what hides inside the heart? I didn’t realize ones with such talent resided within this realm.”
    “You need help, Lady. You’re coming with me.”
    The man held fast to my arm as he pushed past the gathering crowd, leading me to an older building. Precinct 6 was written in white letters on the glass door. He escorted me into a tiny room with but a single table and a couple hard metal chairs.
    That little table is where I now sit as I record the bizarre events unfolding before me.
    “Coffee?” he asked, smiling, sort of.
    “Do you have tea?”
    “No. I’m afraid all I can offer you is a bitter black cup of Joe.” His amused laughter was warm and gentle.
    “Gratitude and apologies, good sir. I’ll be fine.”
    He took a drink from his cup and nodded his head toward me. “What’re you writing there?”
    “My life.” I only glance at him before returning my attention back to this journal.
    “May I see it?”
    I stopped writing then. I looked deep into his tired eyes. He didn’t seem bent on ill intentions toward me, curiosity only.
    “If you wish,” I said as I handed him this journal.
    He sat for a long time, quietly reading my words and drinking his coffee Joe.
    “And where’s this stolen book which recounts your previous life?” he finally asked.
    I pulled the battered old novel from the leather bag I’d worn draped across my chest since my first week of exile.
    “May I see it as well?” he said, reaching.
    This was a much harder request to fulfill. “Do you promise to return it? It’s my only worldly possession. My only window back to the people I love.”
    “I promise,” he answered. “You can’t trust anybody if you can’t trust me.”
    He smiled then. His grin carried no malice, sympathy perhaps, but no malice.
    He read for hours as I studied his common eighth layer features. Perhaps he could be considered handsome, I’m not certain. I cannot judge beauty on this layer. The beings I find the most charming, the most interesting, are not usually the ones admired on their television sets or upon their giant movie screens. I mean, he looks to me much like all the others rushing about within this sterile building. He has short black hair—not Alastyn’s raven black, just the normal Earth realm black. His is sprinkled about on the sides with bits of shimmering gray and he has that odd patch of hair above his mouth that so many eighth layer men share.
    That’s one of the biggest differences between the people here and the ones back in Ashgard—all the body hair. I mean, it’s not a bad thing I suppose, just different. My people have hair upon their heads only. The people of layer eight boasted hair pretty much everywhere. On their face, their arms, their legs. Some even have hair on their bodies, their chest and their back. I giggled when I thought about how funny Alastyn would look with hair upon his face, Jezreel with it covering her arms, or even the glorious Vittorio with silver hair upon his magnificent chest… hysterical.
    Actually, Valadrog was the only person I had met upon the whole of layer four who had hair somewhere besides his head. And he wasn’t crowned with a single strand , I thought. Bald as a newborn babe, he was. Blessed with silver hanging only from the corners of his sternly set mouth.
    I didn’t realize I’d laughed out loud until I looked back at the man. He was staring at me, rather worrisomely, actually.
    “Apologies, I was lost in my own remembrances.” I’m pretty sure I blushed, my cheeks felt hot. “Please, continue.”
    I noticed then that his eyes had once been a brilliant blue. They were now faded, tired, and framed by tiny lines matching the ones