On a Pale Horse
“This close, she smelled slightly of shellfish and she weighed nothing at all.
“Hey, that’s not necessary,” Zane protested, embarrassed and perplexed.
“But I must thank you for taking me on your trip to Hell,” she said. “I got to meet an old friend.”
Zane submitted to her embrace. After all, what could a ghost do to his solid form? “Glad to do it, Molly. Now you can return to—”
Her substanceless lips brushed his ear like a faint breeze. “Death—I must tell you before Satan takes over this house,” she whispered urgently.
“What?”
“No, no—don’t react. Just smile and look relaxed. Satan is watching. He’ll let me caress you, because he wants you to assume an interest in any woman other than Luna. Here, I’ll make myself more solid so you can feel my flesh.” And now she had weight, pressing down on his lap. “You took me along as guide, and now I will guide you. Trust me, Death—it’s important.”
Zane, astonished by this abrupt shift of character, smiled and forced himself to relax, physically.
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