The convict whose body had been stolen for Sarah hadn’t been, but she was beyond Sarah’s help. Just her luck, getting stuck on a plane with friends of Marilyn. Gladys leaned toward her and scanned her head to toe. She reached out and Sarah took her gnarled, quaking hand. The old woman squinted through thick glasses. He turned to the elderly woman sitting beside him and took her hand. Jill had been the number one top model, and she loved the attention. She’d slipped out of the limelight as soon as possible, her transition eased by her friend Jill’s rise as the face of the disaster. They called her a hero, the girl who helped reveal the company’s illegal activities. She wasn’t surprised that someone recognized her, but felt a flash of irritation anyway.Īfter the company’s fiery collapse, she had received far too much media attention. I was a model there, Sarah said, forcing a smile.Īnother reason she had accepted Tomas’s invitation was for a chance to escape the media frenzy of Alterego for a while. The man looked young, somewhere in his twenties, but dressed like he had accidentally left home with his grandfather’s suitcase instead of his own. Excuse me, miss, but didn’t you work for Alterego? The fact that he was the key to her finding Eirene and learning more about that secret world of magic didn’t hurt either.Ī man seated in an aisle seat interrupted her musings by touched her arm as she passed. He had saved her life, after all, had proven himself a remarkably capable man, one with a good soul that she could count on. He was clearly interested, and one of the reasons she’d accepted his invitation to meet him in New Orleans was that she was seriously considering exploring a relationship. He’d also been rather vague about why he was inviting her to join him.
Tomas had left the details of the vacation vague. As she slipped through the coach cabin, she considered the possible outcomes of her trip. The bathroom was occupied and a heavyset woman in seat 2A proclaimed that she was next in line, so Sarah headed aft. She was eager to land, to escape the stale cabin air, even for the humidity of the deep south. The closer she approached the city and Tomas, the more her nervous excitement grew. One hour out from New Orleans, Sarah set aside her Louis L’Amour western and rose from her seat in the first class cabin of the airplane to use the restroom. No matter in what shape it comes, whether from the mouth of a king who seeks to bestride the people of his own nation and live by the fruit of their labor, or from one race of men as an apology for enslaving another race of simple mortals, it is the same tyrannical principle.
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