Ghost Writer - Pandora Pine Page 0,12

keys. Now came the hard part. Where to start?

Cope’s eyes slid shut and he could see the words coming together in his mind. His finger started to move over the keys. At first, he wondered if the sound of the striker hitting the paper would be a distraction and was pleased to discover it wasn’t. Same went for the carriage return when he slid the lever to the left. The ping was satisfying. One line down, the rest of the book to go.

Time seemed to fly as Cope wrote paragraph after paragraph detailing his early life. Memories flooded his brain. In them, he could see his mother, smiling and happy. There were scenes of the two of them together at the kitchen table working on spells together. Cope was never happier than when he was learning his mother’s craft.

With his hands cramped from typing, Cope stretched them out. He yawned, bellowing like a lion. He hadn’t done that in years. Maybe reliving some of his favorite memories of his mother put him in a whimsical mood.

One of his favorite rituals with his mother was when she’d tuck him into bed. They never read Dr. Seuss or other kids’ books. Instead, she’d read to him from Devereaux family texts. Grimoires, old diaries, and spell recipes were his bedtime stories.

Elizabeth continued that tradition until the day she went into the hospital for the final time. Then Cope had started reading to her. He planned on continuing the tradition with Wolf when he was old enough to understand. Jude might have an issue with this sort of bedtime stories, but magick, spell casting, and speaking to dead people were part of Wolf’s heritage. Jude would be the one to tell their son about his Navajo roots.

Yawning again, Cope’s eyes slid shut. He could hear his mother’s voice reciting ingredients for a spell. He drifted toward sleep before he could recognize what spell Elizabeth had been casting.

Click. Click. Click. Ping!

Cope startled at the sound of the typewriter bell. His face fell from the cup of his left hand, while his right hand was pressing down against the keys. Shit, his hand must have landed on the keyboard and typed nonsense.

Looking down at the page, Cope didn’t see nonsense. He saw familiar words. Not his own, but they were familiar all the same.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound.

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost but now am found.

Was blind, but now, I see.

His mother had never been an overly religious woman, but she’d had a special place in her heart for Amazing Grace. Originally penned to illustrate all sins, no matter how heinous, could be forgiven. Elizabeth didn’t see those words from a God-fearing perspective, instead using the words to illustrate that it was never too late to make amends with the people you loved.

How odd these words were perfectly written on the page? Had he typed them as he was nodding off? Or had his mother paid a visit while he slept, typing the words herself?

“Mom?” Cope stood up from his chair. His gift wasn’t giving him any indication Elizabeth Devereaux was in the room with him. He wasn’t getting the indication any other spirit was here either. Was it possible to type in your sleep? Cope didn’t know the answer to that question, but it seemed as logical answer as any.

He pulled the piece of typing paper from the carriage but didn’t place it on top of his manuscript pile. Obviously, this page couldn’t be part of the book. Or could it? Cope would be asking his readers to take a leap of faith to believe in the lessons his mother taught him, as well as their psychic abilities. Would it be all that hard for his readers to believe the words had typed themselves on the page while he slept?

Cope supposed that was another question for another day. Yawning again, he headed for the office door. It was his birthday after all, and he couldn’t wait to see what Jude had in store for their private celebration.

6

Jude

The second Jude heard the door to Cope’s office creak open, he shucked off his boxers and brought his dick to full mast. He was lazily stroking himself when Cope walked into the bedroom.

“I see you got the party started without me.” Grinning, Cope pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it in the direction of the hamper, missing by a mile. “Isn’t this a little like taking a bite out of