Spirit Read online

  “It’s beautiful, Elliot,” I said. He opened his eyes and I chuckled, “You look as surprised as I feel!”

  “I can’t believe it worked! I don’t know how, but it did!” He spun in a full circle, an expression of wonder and disbelief shaped his features.

  I smiled and reached for his hand. “Show me your house. I want to see everything.” Then I stopped him as he started limping down the hallway. “Stop. Let me look at that wound.”

  I held him in place as I slipped my hand beneath his jacket and moved the side away. There was a jagged, blood-stained slash in his white shirt. I lifted the shirt free to study his wound.

  His smooth heated skin seemed to burn my fingertips as I prodded the wound. He grunted when I probed too close and I let his shirt down again. I was more than aware his physical presence even though I was trying to be as objective as possible. “That needs to be stitched. Do you have any first aid equipment?”

  He nodded, “The bathroom.”

  I followed him into a small room located off the hallway, after the main bedroom. I stopped myself from studying it and instead followed Elliot. When I entered the bathroom, Elliot had opened a cabinet and was retrieving a black leather case the size of a lunch box. He gave me a twisted smile, “I hope you’ll find what you need here. It isn’t the first time I’ve needed something like this.”

  I quirked a brow as he sat on the edge of the bath. I rested the case on a small ledge next to the sink and unlatched the lock. Inside was a range of gauzes, antiseptic bottles, a needle, and thread. “No anaesthetic?”

  Elliot shook his head, “Just do what needs to be done.”

  “It will hurt.”

  He shrugged, “At least I feel again. I’ll take the pain.”

  I understood. Not being in a physical body, trapped in a dimension, you held no substance in and it was harder than I had given any thought to and I should have. I’d wanted to touch him so many times, of course he’d want to do the same. He just wanted to feel. Anything.

  “Okay.” I settled the gear I needed on the floor and knelt in front of him. I doused a piece of gauze in the antiseptic and started cleaning the wound. The only indication that it hurt was when his stomach contracted. When I was satisfied that it was sterile, I doused the needle and thread before settling to stitched the wound.

  “Are you ready?”

  He gazed down at me, his features tense, “It’ll be okay. When we get out of here, I guess I won’t have a wound anymore.”

  “So, it doesn’t matter how bad a job I do of it?”

  His mouth quirked, “I’d be most surprised if you did a bad job of it.”

  I held my breath before suturing the first stitch. His breath hissed and he tensed as the needle pierced the sides of his wound. “I guess you’re right. You were healed instantly in the Grey-Mists…” My hand stilled for a moment.

  “What is it, Cassie?”

  “What if Laura is hurt? She can’t heal here, either. What if Black John is torturing her? He could be doing anything to her…” My voice hitched. I didn’t want to say anymore. Didn’t want to think what Laura was going through. “She’s dead, Elliot. Maybe lost to us forever. What if we can’t get her out of here? What then? What if we get her out, and then… and then…”

  His fingers plunged into my hair above my ear and he gently tilted my head to look up at him, “There’s always a way. All we have to do is find it.” I sunk into the conviction I saw in his eyes and I knew he’d do whatever it took to free Laura. Even at the cost of himself. Hadn’t I seen that time and time again? I sniffed as the rush of emotions loosened the fluid in my head, in the most inelegant way.

  “I just want her back.”

  “I know you do. So do I, but the worst thing we can do is rush back without a plan. Black John will expect that and we’re on his turf now. We need to think about what we’re going to do in a way he’ll least expect it.”

  “What if he sets a Soul-Eater on her and she becomes…just…nothing.”

  “He won’t do that, Cassie. Black John is calculating. If he kills Laura, then there’s no reason for me to stay, so he won’t do that. He’ll have lost his bargaining power. He’ll keep us all alive for the moment.”

  My breath stuttered. I knew he was right, but it was also a reason that I didn’t want to gamble with, “Can you remember why he’d want you enough to drag you here like he has?”

  His gaze introverted and his hand dropped from my hair, “None. My life is coming back to me. Slowly. But it’s selective…I just don’t know, Cassie. I can’t remember!”

  I finished the last suture and cleaned up, “Maybe you’re stressing over it too much. Trying too hard and that’s blocking you. Come, show me the rest of the house and see if something pops into your mind.”

  He stood, “It might help. Okay then. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  We walked down the hallway a little way. Elliot opened the next door into the kitchen. The walls were painted in a muted egg-shell green. There was a table in the middle of the room, painted in the same tone, but darker. There was a cream doily in the centre of the table with a small crystal vase containing hand-picked flowers.

  There was a small sink and bench space along one wall. The rest of the walls held a dresser, the shelves stacked with clean plates, bowls, and teacups. Below the dinnerware were pots and skillets. There was a four-burner gas stove with a silver tea-pot set on top of one of the burners.

  “This was Marie’s domain.” Elliot didn’t look at me, just kept his gaze focussed somewhere in the middle of the room. His voice was thick and heavy and full of the things he didn’t want to say, but I inherently knew.

  Marie. His wife. And he had loved her with all his heart if anything about the tone of his voice conveyed. This was her space. I could just about feel her here. I stepped past him inside into the small kitchen. It was cosy and gave me a good, homey feeling, as though it would be the most natural thing in the world to come in here, start a burner, and make a pot of tea. Something I’d never done before in my life, yet still could see myself doing. Silly really, instant tea and coffee were the rulers of my world.

  “She made this a lovely space,” I said.

  He blinked himself back into the moment, “Marie always had something cooking. Some nice smell of meat, or cakes, or biscuits. There were always fresh flowers on the table. She’d collect them when she went down the street. I told her people wouldn’t like their garden raided, but she would laugh and tell me she’d only take the flowers on the outside of the fence. Sometimes our neighbours would call in and give her a handful they’d picked from their gardens because they knew how much she loved flowers…”

  A clock chimed somewhere inside the house. “She sounds lovely. I would have liked to have met her.”

  “She would have liked you, too. You know, you remind me…but that’s silly. Come and I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

  We walked into a large room at the end of the long hallway. It was also a comfortable space. Small by today’s standards, but relaxed and well cared for. There were two deep, deco-styled arm-chairs with sloping arm-rests covered in a textured beige colour. Matching pillows were set on the seats at a jaunty angle.

  A small two-seater couch was placed between them. An oval coffee table was in front of the lounge set with a stack of books on top. There was a beautiful radio next to the coffee table, finished with shining wood veneer and glowing knobs. It was on, the volume turned low. A muted song was playing. A boppy tune with a trumpet. I could curl up on the couch and listen to the music and fall asleep.

  “This is where we’d sit and talk. Marie would read a book and I would read the newspaper.”

  I realised how much the mod-cons of life, the television, computer, ipods, and tablets limited such conversation. Where Elliot would sit and talk about his day with his wife, I would sit and listen to the news, surf the net, or phone my sister while I was doing something else. I didn’t really just sit and talk. Nobody did. I
just realised how much we missed out on.

  “It sounds really nice,” I said.

  “It was a good way to end the day.”

  Set away from the house were a laundry and out-house. Also modern by the standards of the day, but none-the-less it made me grateful for modern plumbing. There was a second bedroom with a small single bed and table. We were back at the bathroom and he led me towards the room I’d only glimpsed. The main bedroom. I wandered inside.

  A door of the wardrobe was ajar and I glimpsed Marie’s dresses. One of her hats was on the dresser with a bunch of hair-brushes, pins, and a small box of jewellery. The window was open and a gentle breeze played with the transparent curtains behind the dresser.

  This was the most intimate room of all. There was a small double bed with a beautiful, iron bed-head. He would have had to sleep with his wife in his arms every night. My cheeks heated when I thought of Elliot with his wife. This was his space that he shared with her. An intimate space. It was nothing to do with me and something that I didn’t want to intrude on, or had any desire to take away from him.

  Elliot sunk on the corner of the bed, hands in his lap, shoulders rounded. He seemed to crumple in on himself. He looked so, so lonely. So lost.

  It dawned on me that he’d created his world with his wife. In every detail. The floor. Furniture. Tiny details. Elements of Marie. But the biggest element was missing. Marie was not here. A lump caught in my throat. I didn’t want to see Elliot like this, but hot jealousy was hard to deal with. I fidgeted a moment before I went over to him.

  “You thought Marie might be here,” I said gently.

  His eyes roamed my face. I read the hope and torture on his features. Felt the internal war raging in his mind.

  “It would have been good if she was,” I said.

  He rose from the bed and held my hands in his, “Cassie, she is my wife. But…it doesn’t take away what I feel for you.” His face crumpled. He turned, running his fingers through his hair, “How can I even say that to you. Standing in this room that is so full of Marie. I can’t…explain…”

  “You don’t have to. I understand. This is an impossible situation. You didn’t choose this to happen to you. If you had your wish, you would have lived your life with Marie.”

  “But Cassie. We have…kissed. I wanted…more. I’m…married.”

  “Elliot. Marie isn’t here. She’s gone and I don’t think she was the type of woman to want you living as a shadowed version of yourself. There’s no need for you to feel ashamed about how you might…feel about me.” I was so unsure of myself now, standing in the middle of his bedroom filled with his wife’s belongings. When he’d kissed me in the Grey-Mists, on the beach, it was different, but in here were so many of his memories from his life exactly as he’d left it. Exactly what it meant to him.

  Being in his house was bringing so much of his life back to him. He’d remembered where he lived, his house, and his wife. Maybe if he’d remembered who he was when we’d first met, he’d never have kissed me. It was obvious he was in love with his wife and there was no way he’d entertain the thought of kissing me if she were alive.

  Or if he hadn’t lost his memory.

  My whole world cracked. I didn’t know where to be, where to look, or even how to be. I needed to give him space. Give myself space. Be anywhere else but here. I just needed to breathe.

  “I’ll just leave you to…remember.” I went into the lounge room, sat on the couch, and barely managed to hold back the flood of grief that threatened to make me a blubbering mess.

  There was a rustle of clothing and Elliot appeared in the hallway entrance to the lounge. He just stood there watching me. The confusion was gone, leaving resolution. My heart lurched. This was the Elliot I was in love with. I didn’t know the man beating himself up about things we couldn’t do a damn thing about. But I was very familiar with the determined man that didn’t let a thing stand in his way.

  He walked straight to me, took my hands, raising me to stand chest to chest with him. He brushed a strand of hair from my forehead, the movement so gentle, just like a sigh. I closed my eyes as my skin shivered.

  “I can’t make Marie re-appear.”

  I held back tears, knowing that deep down inside, this was the truth. Even imagination could not conjure up a soul. Only God could do that. I needn’t be afraid that she would appear in this dream-world because it wasn’t really here. Wasn’t really true.

  “You are here Cassie and that’s the most important thing to me. You’re here with me and I can touch you and be with you in the flesh. You are right. Marie wouldn’t want me to live a half-life. She always believed in living. Experiencing. Not wasting a single moment of it. She always said life was precious but I never truly understood what she meant until now. This is a gift I won’t waste.”

  I had the chance to feel him in the flesh, instead of relying on my imagination of what it might be like to have him touch me the way I wanted him to. And having him here, now, was so much better than anything I could dream up.

  His fingertips trailed a path from my forehead, down my cheek to my jaw. There was the brush of his thumb over my lower lip, the flow of his breath as he moved closer to me. “Marie is not here. She hasn’t been here for decades. She’s moved on where she should have. To her next life. You’re right, Cassie. She wouldn’t want me to live in the past. Without light and love. She would have wanted me to find you. You have saved me. More than you could possibly know.”

  He pressed his mouth to mine and I accepted him with a sigh. His touch was so light and tender. His kiss started by being gentle, but I pressed hard up against him, gliding my tongue into his mouth, needing so much more than a gentle touch. I stroked my tongue against his, delighting in the slick heat. The taste of him.

  He kissed me back, no longer bothering to hide his growing desire. Our lips fused as though they were made for each other. His arms wound around me, skimming my back, massaging my waist, and dipping to my behind where he rubbed and pulled me closer to him so that we were hip to hip.

  He slipped his hand beneath the hem of my dress. His palm skimmed the backs of my legs before moulding to my derriere. I gave in to the erotic touch of his palm on my bare skin. His erection was hard against my stomach. He pressed into the softness of my abdomen. He wanted me as desperately as I wanted him, it seemed. Our breath mingled; our mouths hungry. We devoured each other. Hands and lips, growing more urgent with each passing heartbeat.

  Wisps of golden light flickered around us. As my passion heightened, the light wove around and through us. I felt his urgency, his need to make love to me, to demonstrate how powerful his emotions for me were.

  I felt his determination to hold back, to keep it slow, so we could enjoy each other as long as possible. His thoughts, his need, his desire rocketed through my mind. God, it was so potent. So erotic, I just about crumbled in his arms.

  Elliot lifted the hem of my dress over my head. I untangled my arms from around his shoulders to let him rid me of it. Air pressed against my heated sensitised skin, perspiration making it seem cooler, but not for long. His palms returned to my waist, fingers massaging my bare skin. Golden light flickered, flowing through my body. It wound through quickly fraying nerve endings, building passion, totally connected in both mind and body.

  “Do you feel that? Do you see that light?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know what it is, but I like it. I swear I know what you’re feeling, Cassie. How to touch you. What you want me to do. How I can make you feel.”

  His words just about undid me then and there. It was just so goddam sensual, “Me too. So powerful. I never thought it could…be like this.”

  “This is…magical.”

  Yes, that was the best word to describe it. I couldn’t answer. I bit my lip as his kiss trailed over my cheek. I tipped my head back and felt him pressing kisses down my throat to my collarbone. He lifted the bottom of my bra, slipping his fingers over my aching breast. He rubbed his palm eroticall
y over my nipple sending shards of excited pleasure singing through me. My nipples hardened, my breasts were on fire.

  “God, Cassie. How I’ve wanted to do this to you…”

  “If you only knew how long I’ve been waiting, too.” I answered.

  His arm skimmed to my back, there was a twist on the latch of my bra and then it was gone. His mouth claimed one nipple while his hand claimed the other. I gasped as electrified jolts sparked through my breasts into my abdomen. I pressed my belly into his erection, so hard, so rigid, and delighting in knowing he was as excited as I was.

  He wound his fingers through the hair at my nape, tilting my head so that I opened my eyes and looked at him. His eyes were dark, glinting with an inner light that claimed me. “I want to make love to you, Cassie. I can’t wait any longer. I have to make love to you here and now. Would you…would you have me?”

  I wrapped my finger around his upper arms, feeling the hard knotted coils of muscle beneath the skin and took his mouth in mine, leaving no questions as to what I wanted, “Yes, Elliot. I want you to make love to me. Here. Now. But…not in your bedroom. I want to do it here. On the rug in front of the fireplace. That will be our place. Just yours and mine.”

  His body shuddered and it took him a moment to compose himself. There was no mistaking his intent. His carnal desire so evident in his gaze. He wanted me in the most intimate of physical ways and God, I was going to let him do whatever he wanted. He picked me up and laid me on the rug. The soft strands of wool cushioned my body. He kissed my neck, inhaling my scent, hands tracing my body.

  The golden light buzzed around us, soaking us in a warm heat. It soaked my skin, my body, all the erogenous zones inside me, heightening the sensation of his touch, his lips, hands, skin. Just feeling him become as undone as I was. So blindingly sensuous. Such intense craving. I couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to feel. To join mind and body. Become one with Elliot. Only Elliot.

  He slid his tongue over my collar bone and claimed a breast. He flicked my nipple with his tongue. I couldn’t help but arch my back into his touch. One hand skimmed my stomach, over my hips to rest on my thigh where his fingers massaged the soft skin between my legs.