Dark Lily: Shadows, Book 4 Read Online Free

souls.”
    “This madman you’re speaking about had your Auntie Tallulah and her sister, Twila, murdered.”
    Something colder than ice flowed through Gaby’s veins. “I know, Celia. I also know I was out of state when both of those murders occurred.”
    “You were off-continent, Gaby, half a world away.”
    The smile only made it to Gaby’s lips. “Thanks for that.” She glanced at the lowering clouds, then over at the crawling beetle. “Are you circling around a point here, or are we going to play Twenty Questions?”
    The older woman shook her head. “You’re still so young and linear.”
    Exasperation swept in. “I see ghosts, Celia, and more than that sometimes. I moved from coast to coast on the advice of my dead aunt. No worthy explanations, just a leap of faith. How can you call that linear?”
    “Because you go from point A to point B with no side trips.”
    “Well, I did ask her why.”
    “And she said?”
    “That I’d be stronger if I was closer to the source of what was, what is and what will be. Which is pretty much as cryptic as answers come. So I pushed her for more, and she finally told me that I was born in the bayou. When I told her I remembered that, she got even more cryptic. She said her suggestion had to do with the roots of my very complex family tree, and that one day I’d understand what she meant. For the moment, however, I was simply supposed to take it from her, ditch my lucrative career and move to Bokur Island. Don’t mention it to anyone, she said, just go. Quietly.”
    Celia beamed as if she were enormously pleased. “Long story short, you trusted a woman you loved, and here you are.”
    “Here I am.” Gaby picked up her oversized bag, swung it onto her shoulder. “But not on Tallulah’s word alone. My dreams also directed me to the island. And, while I was waffling, Twila weighed in.”
    “Your Aunt Tallulah wasn’t as powerful as her sister.”
    “My honorary aunt, who took charge of me and made sure I got a good home. I’ve always known that the people who raised me weren’t the ones who gave me life.”
    “Only everything else.”
    Gaby sent her friend a humorous look. “They’re why I’m so well adjusted in spite of the fact that I’m different from anyone I know.” She shrugged. “In the end, that difference is probably why I took Tallulah’s advice. It’s starting to rain. Enjoy your solitude, Celia. I’ll have a shot of bourbon in your honor while I’m whipping Jassy Ficket’s ass at five-card stud.”
    “You drive safe,” Celia warned as the rain came down harder and wind began to blow the Spanish moss around like baby whips. “Don’t go by the main road.”
    “But I like…” Gaby halted when she saw Celia’s resolute expression and changed her protest to a nod.
    After all, Bokur Island was where Celia Beauchamp had been born. It was also where she’d died.
    * * * * *
    Seasick. The Creole riverboat captain called it mal de mer and laughed his way to the bridge.
    Ignoring him, Mitchell worked on surviving the nightmarish journey. The boat, a ferry that could, if squeezed, hold twenty vehicles, probably ran slow and easy most days. Unfortunately, there was a summer storm raging in the bayou. Everything on the water pitched and rolled, including Mitchell’s stomach. He might not eat, drink or even stand up ever again.
    “Y’all are gonna need to be extra careful on the drive to town.” The captain paused during one of his rounds to lean in the window of Mitchell’s Jeep Wrangler. He gave the well a pat. “This be one fine set of wheels you got here. Wouldn’t want ’em to wind up in a bog.”
    He had a gap between his front teeth, a bowed body and blotchy, careworn features that, if nothing else, gave Mitchell something to fixate on besides his raw stomach.
    The man shook his head. “You won’t be finding no place for sleeping as fancy as this piece of machinery on Bokur Island. No, sir, you surely won’t.”
    “Any flat