Free The Dead Tell (Magical Temptations Collection) by Jaycee Clark

question does seem rhetorical. And I agree with Mike. You two are good together.”
    “ Shut up.”
    “ Never, doll. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”
    “ Mike manages that just fine.”
    “ And here I thought he kept you on your back most of the time.”
    It was her turn to throw a muffin.
     
     

Chapter Seven
     
    He waited, the light fading. He’d decided to use the evening twilight. It was perfect, gave a different glow to the area. Of course, this creation he’d taken to an old cemetery outside of the city. The funeral art here wasn’t as spectacular as some in the city, but there were a few mausoleums. He found he could take his time. He’d had to find a location that allowed him more time. So it had to have trees or some form of vegetation for him to hide. Great thing about these old small town cemeteries. They rarely had gates and if they did they weren’t the huge locking kind he found in the city.
    The black -streaked white marble almost glowed in the fading light. The car he’d rented sat parked near the gates. He’d told someone who’d stopped earlier he was researching his family lineage, and wanted a bit of time to explore the cemetery. The elderly lady had been all too happy to help him. Good thing he’d been out here yesterday to find the grave he wanted to use.
    His dolls deserved only the best.
    Some might w onder at using his dolls in such a macabre setting, but he liked the paradox of the innocence and the darkness. He really liked that. He also liked the fact he could make them up to look like whatever he wanted. He spent a lot of time looking at doll magazines. This latest one was special. He’d dressed her as a Harvey Girl. The hair had taken him longer than he’d thought it would. Another reason he was using the evening rather than the early morning—which he honestly preferred. It gave him more time to set up if he got there in the dark. Now he was racing against the fading light, but as far as that went, this shoot had been good.
    Well, after the busybody had left him to find his family graves and to explore the cemetery.
    This one was beautiful. Another brunett e, long hair that had taken hours, yes, hours, to get just right in that pulled up knot. Of course, he’d had to touch it up when they’d gotten here and he’d set her up against the tombstone.
    She sat, her pale skin alabaster in the deep ening darkness, leaning against the tombstone. Her legs were bent and tucked under her simple black skirt, which contrasted well with the dying summer grasses. Her blouse almost billowed around her, sort of like her cloud of hair. Her head rested against the edge of the stone, her eyes closed, her makeup very light. Harvey Girls had not been allowed to wear makeup so he’d fudged there, but the light concealer was needed.
    She was... almost as perfect as the forties girl.
    They were all perfect —and imperfect—in their own ways. This one, luckily, had the longer clothing—hid her bruises better, since he’d rushed with her. She’d been a tempest, hadn’t she? He didn’t like hurting his girls.
    The drugs though didn ’t work on her like they had the others.
    As he was out and away from the city, he ’d brought his bellows camera and watched as the silver went to work with the acid, the photo of her slowly coming to life. He grinned, loving that process. There was just something about the old cameras, about the old ways.
    He was born in the wrong century. He had to be so careful. So very , very careful. If he wasn’t, he’d be caught and then he could never talk to her, see her again, tell her what he’d done— for her.
    He saved all the photos he ’d taken. There was a reason; after all, he didn’t just want them for keepsakes. He needed them. To show her. But the time had to be right.
    He had started to wonder what she ’d look like as a doll, but that was wrong. She was the reason he made the dolls.
    He set the plate aside and wanted to w ait for it to fully