Page 622 of Flirting with Darkness

He was sure he must be dreaming.

Then the person standing there turned to face him directly.

Ghost’s disbelieving stare met a set of dark blue eyes. His dark mustache and beard looked exactly as Ghost remembered, exactly as he’d last seen them.

He even wore the same clothes.

But it was the eyes that held Ghost.

They shone as cold as winter ice.

Ghost saw the rage burning there. He saw the hatred.

He saw the murderous intent behind both.

He saw those eyes shift to Natalie.

He looked from Ghost to Natalie again, and Ghost couldn’t fail to see the understanding there. At the knowing look that rose to his father’s hate-filled stare, Ghost felt something in his chest tighten and collapse until he couldn’t breathe at all.

It was his father.

Count Yakoslav Aslanov was here.

His father had found him. Somehow.

And he’d just seen him with Natalie.

Whether the Count had come by chasing Ghost’s twin, or by chasing him, it almost didn’t matter now. Ghost had somehow drawn him to this world. He had likely drawn him here the same way he had drawn himself.

He’d brought him to this exact place, this exact time.

To where his wife lived.

For a few, very long-feeling seconds, the realization paralyzed him.

20

THE OLD MAN

When that silence ended, Ghost didn’t think.

Grabbing the heavy drape near where they stood, he leapt over the balcony, using the thick cloth to slow his fall as he gradually let his hands slide through the fabric.

He landed hard on the new boots in the center aisle.

Shouts erupted around him.

He ignored them.

Cursing, he stumbled when he first regained his feet, then pulled his weight back to center. By then, the shouts had turned to screams, erupting from the seats to either side.

At first, most sounded more shocked than afraid.

Then Ghost unsheathed the sword.

The screams grew louder.

That time, they sounded afraid.

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