Free Demon on a Distant Shore by Linda Welch Page A

name. Is it short for Tiffany?”
    My brows met. “Yes,” I hissed.
    She flapped a hand. “Does anyone like their name? I hated Caroline when I was a girl. I wanted to be Sophia.”
    A gentle rap on the door startled me. Royal’s voice came faintly. “Tiff?”
    “I have to go,” I told Carrie.
    “But I have so many questions.”
    And you had plenty of time to ask them, if you didn’t ramble on so . “I know. We can get together later. Okay?”
    “All right,” she said morosely. “I’ll be here.”
     
    I thought about Carrie’s memories as Royal and I returned to our room. She remembered going to the movies to see The Godfather and it was made in 1972. I recalled wondering if Jack and Mel retained their memories because they had a social life. Carrie died twenty years ago yet her memory was still good and her ability to move around equated with a social life.
    “I’m beginning to wonder if we can go anywhere without you picking up a new friend, ” Royal said.
    I pretended not to hear his exasperated tone as I checked my teeth in the bathroom mirror. “Me too.”
    “Are you going to ask about her?”
    I came from the bathroom. “She died twenty years ago. They’d wonder how I knew about her.”
    “You don’t feel the need to poke around with this one?”
    I smoothed the sleeves of his dark-blue cotton shirt down his arms. “Not this time.”
    He grasped my elbows and pulled me in close. “That is a blessing.”
    We shared a kiss which seemed to last forever. I went liquid. Then I had a nasty thought. I leaned back from him and twisted to look at the room. But Carrie wasn’t there.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “No.” With seduction in mind, I eased away, backed to the bed and dropped my butt to the mattress, which promptly tried to eject me right back off. I clung to the edge and fistfuls of bedspread as the thing tossed me all over the place. “Whoa!”
    It subsided to a gentle wobble. I daren’t move. Royal took my hand and hauled me upright.
    He tweaked his eyebrows suggestively. “Looked like an interesting ride.”
    “Do you know you have very suggestive eyebrows?”
    He cocked his head on one side. “I prefer expressive .”
    I imagined how I looked as the bed from hell did a number on me, and it was not a pretty sight. I felt like an idiot.
    The mood had passed and he knew it. “Why don’t we go down and sample the local brew?” he suggested.
    Sounded good to me. “Okay, but let’s check out that place across the square. It looks really old.”
    Downstairs again, and everyone in the half-full bar eyed us as we walked past.
    We didn’t make the exit. Royal had to stop and talk to a group of people in the foyer, and he’s like a lamp attracting moths to the flame. Before I knew it, we were in the barroom and a crowd had gathered. I stood there like a lump while he chatted, smiled and shook hands.
    One guy suggested a game of darts, so off we went to the Games Room . What fun, sitting alone at a table while grown men threw pointy things at the wall. Naturally, Royal hit all the right places on the dartboard, and the local men, not to be outdone, insisted on another match, and another. I’m sure Royal deliberately threw the last match. It made the other guys happy and resulted in backslapping all around.
    I didn’t see Carrie. Strange. I thought she would hover, eager to resume our conversation. Come to think of it, I didn’t sense her either.
    We didn’t get across to the Ugly Duck. We spent the entire afternoon in the Hart and Garter while Royal charmed what appeared to be half of Little Barrow’s population.
    After a three-hour nap, we ate in the restaurant again. The menu offered the same dishes as lunch plus additions. Chicken Maryland, sole in an herb sauce, rack of lamb, chicken lasagna. Mm. The desserts sounded fancy: White Chocolate Gateaux, pears braised in white wine, Baked Alaska.
    Royal started coughing as I tucked into a huge slice of gateaux. I thought he was