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. She had gotten up slowly, looking at the dark rivulets running down her leg, coating her hand. Janie had grabbed a stocking and started trying to clean up the ink. Bella hadn’t helped at all. Instead she had slid her arms around Janie’s waist and pulled the smaller woman back against her, kissing Janie’s neck and sliding an ink stained hand up to her pale breast, leaving a stark black handprint. Janie had been aghast. Bella had kissed her, cutting off the shocked words that had been about to. More

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