She owned a quarter of my soul. Lucifer owned the rest. I'm not sure what was worse, burning in fire or burning in starlight. Sometimes Astarte's touc... seemed softer. Sometimes.It was hard to remember who I was. My real name had faded. I could only cling to one thought: I am the Ghost of Paris.But it was hard. My torment seemed to last an eternity. I doubt it had even been a week in the mortal world. It was all Astarte's fault my life had ended so abruptly. She had gleefully told me in detail. You'll notice that she gets to go there before I do," she said with mock disgust."So whose brainstorm was this?" Tom asked, obviously irritated."Your loving wife's," I laughed."I might have known. I suppose this means I won't hear the end of it until I take Jen and the kids there too," he said with a twisted grin.We shot the bull back and forth for a few minutes and then I thanked Jenny for her help and headed out for Dana's. I had taken to going there most of the time because it was such a. More

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