Read Last Safe Place, The for Free Online Page B

hiring Bernie to sell her book during that period in their marriage when she would have done just about anything to keep the peace. It was a painless concession. She knew that book didn’t have a turkey’s chance at Thanksgiving of getting published, and even if it did, nobody would buy it. She was wrong on both counts. AfterShock Jock Howard Stern raved about The Bride of the Beast on his Sirius Satellite Radio show the week it was released, a clandestine video of her interview with him went viral on YouTube. The book was an instant best seller.
    Gabriella always wondered what kind of people wanted to read about demons and darkness and evil. Which begged a more important question: What did it say about her that she’d written it?
    “Are you decent?” he asked. “If you’re not, get decent. And hurry up. It’s time.”
    Time for what? She didn’t like the sound of that.
    If Han Solo were here, he’d be saying, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Luke.”
    Bernie was dressed in a suit and tie. He checked her out and nodded his approval.
    “Excellent. You look worn out and beat up. That’s good. And I like that dress. Shows some v-v-v-vooom.”
    “I look worn out and beat up because that’s what I am. I’m really not into vooming right now, Bernie. What do you want?”
    “You know what I want and you’re late. Come on.”
    With that, he turned and hurried down the stairs and she followed reluctantly behind. His was one of those winding staircases—the kind designed for grand entrances.
    She was halfway down the staircase before her mind registered the sound below. Low murmuring. The sound of a crowd. They suddenly came pouring out of the den with Bernie in front like he was leading his team onto the field.
    Cameras flashed, blinding her. Reporters shoved microphones at her as if they were offering her snow cones.
    “… tell us what happ—”
    “… you attacked …?”
    “… a crazed fan …?”
    “… Ms. Nightshade, rumor has it you’re writing a sequel to The Bride of the Beast —is this part of the publicity—?”
    She answered that one.
    “This has nothing to do with selling some stupid book!” She shot Bernie a look with enough venom to paralyze a walrus. “A man, Yesheb Al Tobbanoft, a crazy fan, broke into my house last night.”
    “Is that where you got that shiner?”
    “Yes, he assaulted me.”
    “Will you file charges against him?”
    “If the police cooperate, I will.”
    “A reliable source inside the police department says they found no evidence of an assault when they searched your house—is that true?”
    “I wasn’t there when they searched my house. I don’t know what they found. But regardless of what they—”
    “And that the man you claimed was your assailant was in the hospital at the time of the attack.”
    “He said he was in the hospital.”
    “His doctor said he was in the hospital.”
    “The doctor lied!”
    “Why would he do that?
    “He was paid off, I guess.” Gabriella was getting rattled. “I don’t know. All I do know is—”
    “My source says you have a restraining order against Mr. Al Tobbanoft and you’ve filed numerous other bogus complaints against him.”
    “They weren’t bogus!”
    “But you couldn’t manage to make headlines until you claimed he assaulted you—is that right?”
    “I don’t decide what makes headlines, you do!”
    “You’re the one who called this press conference.”
    “I did not!” But, of course, she did. Bernie spoke with her voice.
    “There are lots of ways to fake a shiner. Do you have any other proof that you were assaulted?”
    “You think I bit off my own earlobe?” She was instantly sorry she’d said that. Nobody had noticed her injured ear. Now they came at her like Medusa, with dozens of spitting heads.
    “You’re saying this Al Tobbanoft guy bit your earlobe off ?”
    “Is that part of the plot of the sequel? Does The Beast bite—?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “Then you are writing