“So she quit,” Arym said, suddenly appearing at my side. “Can you beat that?” she jerked the sheet off Myra’s face.
Myra looked very peaceful. Her hair framed her small white face and there was a faint smile on her lips.
“Of all the smug, two-faced, prissy-mouthed fugitives from a convent,” Aryrn said in disgust. “She’s it.”
“Don’t,” I said, sitting wearily on the bed. “She wanted to live, but we were too late to help her.”
“Phooey!” Arym snapped. “She’s putting on an act. Cut it Out, Myra,” she went on. “Or I’ll grab that body and leave you without one.”
“Try it and I’ll haunt you,” Myra’s voice said close to me.
I looked round with a startled gasp. Standing at the foot of the bed I could make out a filmy shadow.
“Don’t materialize any further,” Arym exclaimed. “You haven’t got any clothes on.”
“As if I didn’t know,” Myra sounded annoyed. “Where have you two been? I was just going to look for you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Aren’t you dead after all?”