Personal Demons by Stacia Kane Read Free Book Online Page A

though.” As unobtrusively as possible, she glanced atthe clock. It was quarter to nine. She’d called Dante and told him to meet her outside at nine, but she thought she would scream if she had to talk to Art for fifteen more minutes.
    â€œMaybe you could mention us on your show. We can always use more clients, you know.”
    â€œSorry, I’m not allowed to advertise.”
    â€œOf course. I understand.” His expression clearly showed he did not. “Maybe you could see what you can do, though?”
    â€œI sure will,” she said, knowing that he knew she wouldn’t. They smiled falsely at each other while Megan scrunched her toes up in her shoes in an effort to calm her restlessness.
    She took her leave from the group a few minutes later, practically running out the door in her haste to get away from Arthur’s stare. She still didn’t know what had happened. Had she fallen asleep in the spicy-smelling darkness? It wouldn’t surprise her, considering she’d had a rough night and a rougher morning. The demands of the partners still hovered over her like the blade of a guillotine. Tomorrow she’d have to start looking for a new receptionist, start finding a company to do the soundproofing—all out of her own pockets, which were not that deep, despite the boost the radio show gave her finances—and figure out a way to explain to Richard Randall at the station that his publicity was putting her practice in jeopardy. Not that he would care, but maybe she could make him care.
    All while trying to look like a competent, together professional for Brian Stone.
    The locked front door rattled when she pushed it but did not open. She searched for the buzzer by the door but couldn’t find it. The area behind the empty receptionist’sdesk was blocked off by a wall, a little over waist-high. It, too, was locked. Shit. Was she going to have to go back and ask Art to let her out?
    Sighing, she turned towards the hall. Off to her right was a glowing “Exit” sign, but Megan suspected it was a fire exit. She certainly wasn’t going to set off an alarm just because she didn’t want to see Art Bellingham again.
    Holding her car keys loosely in her hand, she walked back across the lobby, an act that seemed to take a lot longer than it should have. The murky silence of the building confused her, considering there was still a group of people in it. She would have expected to hear them talking as they got ready to leave, but she didn’t.
    Something clattered to the tile in the corner of the room. With a tiny, nervous cry, Megan turned towards the noise, but before she could find its cause the lights went out.
    Not even a shaft of moonlight came in through the windows. It was as if something had covered them or they’d disappeared. The exit sign had gone off. The lobby was dark and silent as a tomb.
    Megan’s skin prickled. Someone else was in the room.
    First there was only a tiny movement, a rustling noise, like the whisper of grass in the wind. Megan swallowed. She hoped it was one of the Fearbusters people, but she hadn’t heard their door open, and there were still no voices. Only the unshakable certainty she was not alone in the stygian blackness of the cavernous room.
    Another sound, like a drop of water hitting a pool. Plop. Her eyes hurt from her refusal to blink. The darkness pressed against them, dry and hot.
    Faint rustling answered her next tentative step forward. Something skittered across the floor: tiny fastlittle footsteps rattling like marbles. The noise sounded like it came from her right, but she couldn’t be sure.
    â€œYou’re not scaring me.” She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The darkness crawled over her skin, setting off tiny alarms in her head, making her muscles ache. She lowered her purse and wrapped the strap around her wrist, ready to swing but certain she didn’t have a chance at hitting