I'm not sure what was worse, burning in fire or burning in starlight. Sometimes Astarte's touch seemed softer. Sometimes.It was hard to remember who I...was. My real name had faded. I could only cling to one thought: I am the Ghost of Paris.But it was hard. My torment seemed to last an eternity. I doubt it had even been a week in the mortal world. It was all Astarte's fault my life had ended so abruptly. She had gleefully told me in detail on how she had set me up the first time I had come before. It had a man’s standard shirt collar, long-sleeves, and open French cuffs. There were no buttons or buttonholes in the front of the blouse, instead, a single set of spaghetti strings just below Annika’s bust tied into a bow to hold the blouse closed. ‘You’re early, I’m guessing you’re looking forward to giving Denise your gift?’ Ken teased as he walked Max to the car, opened the back door, and motioned for her to get inside. After helping Max and Annika into the car, Ken climbed onto the. More

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