Free The Corpse with the Sapphire Eyes by Cathy Ace

might be, I need my bed. So let’s just call it a day?”
    Our parting embrace quickly resulted in each of us supporting the other, which led to giggling.
    â€œOff to your bed, young lady,” said Bud, chuckling.
    â€œMy bridal boudoir, you mean.” I smiled as I waved to Bud from my door. “Goodnight, husband-to-be. Love you lots.”
    â€œLove you more,” replied Bud from his own doorway.
    â€œLove you most,” I whispered back and shut my door so that I became the clear winner.
    The massive bed looked inviting, but so did my bathroom, so I changed in there, where the radiator allowed for the smaller square footage to be a little less chilly, then scampered across the expanse of the room and dove under the covers. I was almost asleep by the time I switched off the bedside lamp four seconds later. Then . . . nothing.
    I awoke with a start and grabbed the bedclothes to my chest. I probably looked like a right twit as I stared into the darkness, trying to work out what had woken me. The wind howled around my turret. The windows rattled. But, other than that, I couldn’t hear anything else.
    I looked at my wristwatch. It was 2:37 AM , and, lo and behold, I was wide awake. I snuggled back down, but I was restless. My mind raced. The characters painted on the walls and ceiling seemed to be moving in the shadows. It was disquieting. I knew it was all a trick of the dim light that seeped through the crack at the bottom of the door, but it didn’t help. My mouth was dry, and my fingers and ankles were still painful and swollen from the flight. I lay there trying to make spit, twirling my ankles, and clenching and unclenching my fists. The knock at my door startled me so much that I bit my tongue.
    I leapt out of the bed, switched on the lamp, and scampered across the room. “Who is it?” I hissed.
    â€œIt’s me, Bud.”
    I opened the door, relieved to see Bud’s tousled silver hair and wide-eyed expression. “Cait, what’s happened?” He pushed me into my room. “Let me look at you. What is that? Is it blood? Oh my word—what have you done?”
    â€œI bit my tongue when you knocked on the door. You frightened the life out of me. I’ll get some tissue. It’ll stop.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . Oh, you know I didn’t mean to startle you. Were you asleep? Stick it out, it’ll help,” suggested Bud unhelpfully.
    â€œYou’re just taking the mickey now, right?” I hurled my most aggressively arched eyebrow at him, and he flinched. I felt triumphant. But I did as he suggested and kept my tongue out, as much as I could.
    Bud steered me to the edge of the bed and, once I was settled, dashed to my bathroom. He returned quickly, trailing a length of loo paper. As I dabbed at the bloody mess I’d made, he explained, “I woke up, I don’t know why. I think I heard something. This place is full of such strange noises, and the storm isn’t helping. Anyway, I just couldn’t get back to sleep. I’ll admit that this place has spooked me a little. Back home, it would be the evening for us, not the early hours of the morning, so maybe our bodies think we should be up and about. So I came to see if you were awake too.”
    I replied, “Ny pubby hinksh ish pimmer pime.” How do dentists ever understand a word you say in their chair? Do they get lessons at dental school?
    â€œAre you speaking Welsh?” asked Bud.
    I shook my head. “Ny pubby hinksh ish pimmer pime,” I repeated.
    Bud interpreted, “Your body thinks it’s dinner time?”
    I nodded.
    â€œOddly enough, so does mine,” admitted Bud. “You haven’t got any snacks hidden in your luggage, have you? I know you like to have snacks at hand.”
    I shook my head. “Kishen?” I managed.
    Bud looked alarmed. “What, risk going into Mrs. Dilys