Chapter FourteenA GUARDIAN ANGEL FOR LORI
Lori wheeled to the window. A bike leaned against an elm outside. A grey Cairn ghost ran up to its master, who lunged against the doorbell and laughed when Lori fumbled the door open.
“Drake.”
Sunlight spilled like pale rancid butter through the west window.
Too early in the evening for a good visit from Drake. He would be violent in the glow of twilight. His angel was the Archangel of the West, Raphael, whose wings were tipped with stardust and who loved the night, as Drake loved the night. What did he want with her now, too early in the evening, with his bruised scotched face and the wildness of a ghost killed violently and too soon?
“Not now,” she said. “I have to go to art class.”
“Skip the school. We got plans, sweetie. You know I always
