I watched as steam curled from bared flesh, forming ghostly apparitions. The spirits were out in force tonight. Day of the Dead and all that shit. Ye...h, I was high and being high, I was in love with everyone and everything. The world was beautiful. I was beautiful, awash in a sea of the living dead. The walls were festooned with bright banners. Pink, orange, red, green, all vibrating with each blast of bass, brightly decorated skulls watching over us, laughing, frowning, leering, their eyes. His dark eyes met another pair of chocolate brown eyes. ‘I’m a friend of Sammi’s.’ ‘Yes, but she doesn’t own this house.’ ‘And you do?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I see.’ Pieter turned to him, his impassive features looming over him. ‘I’ll bid you a good night, Mr. Whiting.’ ‘I don’t get to stay?’ ‘I wasn’t aware that you wanted to stay.’ Thorne said, entering the front hallway. ‘Is it a problem? I’ll leave if it’s a problem.’ Thorne didn’t know Sammi’s boss but she trusted the man and Thorne would trust her. ‘No. More

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