A WHISPER OF ETERNIT

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what she needed to settle her nerves. She filled the pot with water and put it on the stove, then closed the curtains on the window over the sink.

Sitting down at the table, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to listen to the small, creaky sounds the house made. Instead, she thought aboutBryan and what a good time she'd had with him. He had asked for her phone number, promising to call her in the next couple of days. She looked forward to going out with him again…

You will not, my best beloved one. You are mine.

My best beloved one.Why did those words sound so familiar, so welcome? Dominic had never said them to her, and yet it was his voice she heard in the back of her mind, so loud and clear that she turned around, expecting to see him standing there behind her.

But there was no one else in the room.

Or was there?

As strange as it seemed, she no longer felt as though she was alone in the house. Rising, she opened a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. "Is someone there?"
She practically jumped out of her skin when the shrill whistle of the teakettle sounded behind her.

Muttering an oath, she dropped the knife on the counter and turned off the stove, then sagged back against the countertop. When her breathing returned to normal, she put the knife back in the drawer, dropped a tea bag in a cup, and filled it with hot water.

" Geez, girl, get a grip," she muttered as she stirred a spoonful of honey into her cup. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was someone else in the house.Someone else in the kitchen.

Standing with her back to the counter, she slowly perused the room. Was that something there, near the doorway? She turned her head slightly to the right and from the corner of hereye, she seemed to see something shimmery , something in the vague shape of a man.

Fear congealed in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She reached for the knife again, even though she knew that it would be useless against anything that wasn't flesh and blood. And that strange, shimmering, silvery image was definitely not human.

A ghost, perhaps?That seemed the most obvious. This was an old house. It was entirely possible that someone had died here, that some restless spirit haunted the rooms. Previous occupants had sworn the place was haunted.Tracy didn't believe in ghosts or goblins, but there was definitely an unseen presence in the room. The certainty of it shivered over her.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice shaking so badly she hardly recognized it. "Whatare you?"
There was no answer, of course.

And then it—whateverit was—was gone.