Free From Bad to Wurst by Maddy Hunter Page A

It had a flirty little short skirt, an apron, a lace choker and cuffs, and a lace garter belt with black fishnet stockings. I was the most popular girl at the party that year.”
    A slow, seductive smile worked its way across his mouth. “No doubt.”
    I removed her nightgowns from their hangers and returned to the bed, folding them neatly into her suitcase before emptying the closet of her folk costumes. When I’d compacted all her belongings into her spinner, Etienne made a final sweep of the room and gave me a thumbs-up. “I think that’s everything.”
    I closed the lid, checked to make sure that none of her costumes were poking out the sides, and zipped it shut. After hoisting it to the floor, Etienne preceded me into the hall. “Would you get the light, bella?”
    I cast a final look back before I flipped the switch. I had no logical reason to doubt Otis, but why couldn’t I shake off the niggling feeling that the room hadn’t been carelessly cluttered by Astrid? Why did I get the feeling it had been ransacked?
    Once back in our room, I lingered in the bathroom, applying Tilly’s shaman-approved restorative compound to the lesions on my face. I didn’t expect miracles, so if the cream did nothing more than fade the redness, I’d be a happy camper.
    By the time I finished, Etienne had returned Astrid’s room key to the main desk and was already in bed. I crawled in beside him, snuggling against the sinewy contours of his body and tingling all over as he cocooned me in his arms. “You won’t have to wake me up in the middle of the night to check my pupils or pulse or anything, will you?” I asked.
    He pressed his mouth to my ear, his lips soft, his breath warm. “Should I wake you in the middle of the night, bella, it won’t be to check your pulse.”
    I was so happy to be safe in bed beside him, I almost purred. I probably would have if a darker thought hadn’t intruded. “What did you do when you heard the bomb blast today?”
    His body stiffened involuntarily before he relaxed again. “I was disoriented initially. I couldn’t pinpoint the location of the sound because it seemed to come from everywhere. But Zola didn’t hesitate. She grabbed my arm and spun me around in the direction of the main boulevard. And she didn’t mince words. She told me it was the street with the spooky sculpture and I should go find you.” He paused. “You did say she’s a practicing clairvoyant.”
    â€œShe told me this evening that she had a bad vibe that something was going to happen on that street, but she didn’t know that Astrid would be fatally injured.”
    â€œI’m not sure how this is going to play out, Emily. Depending on people’s belief systems, a psychic among the guests could either prove to be a delightful novelty or a thorn in everyone’s side. If she remains low-key, we should have no problem. If not…”
    He let me fill in the blank.
    â€œWe’ll work it out,” I assured him. “She’s a really nice person, so if she pushes the envelope a little too far and we’re forced to ask her to tone it down, I’m sure she’ll cooperate.”
    He responded by growling softly against my earlobe and giving it a playful nibble.
    â€œAnd while we’re discussing nice people, does my dad seem all right to you?”
    â€œDefine ‘all right.’”
    â€œHe doesn’t play the accordion.”
    â€œYes, he does.”
    â€œNo. He doesn’t.”
    â€œAll right: to be precise, he played in grammar school and gave it up, so he hasn’t touched an accordion for decades. So what I should have said was, he used to play.”
    â€œWho told you that?”
    â€œYour father.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œI spoke to him briefly after the musicians dispersed this evening. He’s never mentioned his musical ability to you?”
    I