This Haunted World Book One: The Venetian: A Chilling New Supernatural Thriller by Shani Struthers

noticed all right, much more than she’d wanted to.
    She moved fully away from him, and threw her hands in the air, trying to get her point across. “Just… tell me okay, if you’re going to disappear.”
    “Okay, okay,” he replied, looking just as exasperated. “What’s wrong with you lately? Ever since we’ve got here you’ve been really nervy.”
    “No I haven’t!”
    “Yes, you have, and in other ways you’ve been different too.”
    “In what other ways?” But she didn’t need him to elaborate, not out here, in a busy Venetian street, she knew in what other ways. Instead she shook her head, whispered almost. “I can’t believe you’re complaining. Most men would be delighted.”
    “I am delighted.”
    “It doesn’t sound like it.”
    He moved closer to her, tried to bridge the distance she’d put between them. “Don’t get angry, Lou, don’t spoil things. Let’s go and get another drink.”
    “Me, spoil things? You’ve got a bloody cheek!”
    “Louise!”
    There was a warning in his voice; she was tempted to ignore it, to indulge her anger further. He’d changed too during their marriage – he’d become someone who dismissed her all too readily, who treated her like a child rather than an adult, who happily pointed out her flaws – scaredy-cat . The halcyon days she’d been reminiscing over last night in bed seemed a million miles away, especially now, standing here in the rain, in the gloom, so far from home. They were a dream she’d woken from too soon. Of course she knew when things had changed. She was under no illusion about that. Suddenly their glittering world felt cursed. She felt cursed. That’s when the rot had set in – each one dealing with their disappointment in their own way, not together but alone.
    Looking at him, into the face she’d loved, his features slightly more grizzled with time and stubble with a hint of grey in it covering his chin, defiance still stirred within her. There followed a tense few moments in which she couldn’t judge which way the pendulum was going to swing. It went one way and then the other, the momentum equal. Eventually familiarity tempered the rebel within. As irritating as she found him sometimes, as disappointing , he was her man and she was tired of fighting. More than that, she was exhausted, as if her energy had been leeched from her. She slumped, not against him this time, but she could feel herself wilt, cave in – give up almost.
    Rob’s expression relaxed – she hadn’t realised until now how hard his gaze had become. Evidently he could see the battle was over and that he’d triumphed.
    “Lou, I know we’re wet, we’re cold, but let’s not bother going back to the hotel. Let’s cross the bridge, go over into San Polo, find a nice wine bar, Al Buso or something, you liked the look of that one didn’t you, and it’s not far. Five minutes if that.”
    Not go back to the hotel? Was he worried she’d try and seduce him again? Jump your bones . Couldn’t he bear the prospect? He’d rather stay here; stay cold.
    LOUISE, STOP IT!
    She screamed the words out loud – albeit in the confines of her head – unable to believe where her thoughts were taking her. As for what he’d done, it wasn’t so bad; she was blowing it out of all proportion. It wasn’t bad at all in fact – why was she so intent on condemning him? And what she’d seen, the veiled lady, that was her tired mind playing tricks on her, nothing more and nothing less. Perhaps she shouldn’t go to Al Buso , as much as she wanted a drink, perhaps she should go to the hotel room and sleep – how she wanted to sleep, but Rob was nudging her again, waiting for an answer. He looked in need of a drink too.
    Shoving her hands in her jacket pocket she trudged silently towards the bridge.
     
    Al Buso was packed with so many, like them, seeking shelter from the rain. The atmosphere was jovial enough despite the weather as couples and groups of friends occupied the