“You’re awfully quiet,” Marlise says.
“A lot on my mind.”
“A penny for your thoughts?”
“Just tired. Trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about my situation.”
“You’ll get there.” She places her left hand on my thigh, giving it a squeeze; such an intimate gesture. If only I could relax into the sense of allowing someone to care for me. I’m just using her—that guilt niggles—but I won’t hurt her like Ashton did. Or am I trying to justify my current actions? These thoughts shuffle through my exhausted mind and I have no clear answers.
Marlise must feel my muscles contract from the touch because she removes her hand. Or maybe it’s because she changes gears as we turn from the M3 into the Kendal Road off-ramp.
I want to apologise, say something, but words desert me and we drive the rest of the way in silence. The glass is cool against my forehead, my skin almost feverish. I’m overtired, that’s what it is. Things will look better after a full night’s rest and maybe, just maybe, this prickling restlessness will abate.
Marlise’s scream jolts me out of my half-slumber.
“Get out of the car, bitch!” a man shouts.
“Huh?” I jerk upright.
Dark figures stand on either side of the car, half-parked in the driveway, the gate already closing without us driving through it. Marlise makes small whimpers and raises her hands, and that’s when I turn to the man standing on the passenger side. He’s holding an object, and it takes me a moment to register he’s pointing a gun at me.
“We don’t want trouble,” this one says. “Get out. Hands in the air.”
Marlise is already getting out, her movements slow, exaggerated.
What else can I do but obey? A ridiculous notion occurs to me. Who’d want to steal Marlise’s old Toyota? It looks as if it would fall apart at the slightest hint of a sneeze. She shouldn’t even be driving it at night.
Moving slowly, and with care, I obey the gunman. The wind shakes the trees, their branches forming crazy patterns with the street lamps’ illumination on the tar. Just my luck. Our hijacker’s English tells me a lot. He’s Russian. This isn’t an ordinary hijacking, my instinct screams. Unbidden, three Blessed memories assail me in a three-dimensional flush of images underpinned by fear. Screams. Voices raised in anger. Guns. Bullets. One victim died in a driveway not too far from this block. Isabelle’s face contorted in anger completes the visuals.
“What do you want?” I keep my tone neutral, trying to memorise the man’s features.
Of medium height, he’s bulky and wears a leather jacket over a dark turtleneck sweater. At some point he had his nose broken and the orange light reveals the pits of acne scars. A beanie is pulled low over his forehead to cover his eyebrows. He holds that gun rock-steady, aimed directly at my chest.
He gestures for me to join Marlise, our backs to them, facing the car’s hood. She’s trembling hard and I take her hand, willing her to be calm. Her fingers are cold. Everything will be all right.
I ask them, “What do you want?” A whining starts in my ears. A horrible crawling twists up my guts.
“On your knees,” says the other.
They’re going to kill us, executioner style.
Blessed memory or Inkarna foresight I know not and, at this point, there’s no time to think, only act, in a last desperate bid to stay alive. I can’t die again now, not when I’ve so much that needs to get done. It’s not Marlise’s fault that she’s in this mess. If she dies now, that’s it, and she’s hardly had a chance in life to live it to the full. Unsure as to whether this will work, I draw on every available energy source in the vicinity, as if I still had half the ability of my previous incarnation. Above us, the street lamps flicker, an electric whine filling the air before the lights go out. Time slows, every cell in my body expands and my blood buzzes. The engine of the big black SUV idling just behind the Toyota gurgles then cuts out.
An explosion down the street sends up a fountain sparks amid an electric-blue lightning crackle. The entire neighbourhood is plunged into darkness, which is my cue to let go.
With a wordless roar I spin around, faster than these men can react, and lash out with the daimonic power thrumming through my veins. They fly back as though they’ve been flung from a moving train, falling like two bags of meat about a dozen paces from us.
At once all the dogs in the neighbourhood set up a frightful howling and yammering. The sound is unearthly, unholy, as if a pack of Dracula’s hounds have been unleashed upon the world. For a few heartbeats I stand, arm outstretched, before I collapse to my knees. One of the men stirs, groaning. Blood runs out of his ears, his nose.
To my eyes, the night is as bright as day. I can see the auras of all life forms shimmering about me—the way the one man is faded, ragged at the edges, the other gone out. The world tilts sideways.
“Ash!” Marlise grabs me before I fall. Something salty and warm fills my mouth and runs down my throat. My vision turns hazy.
She lays me down carefully and I watch, numb, as she runs to the men, shrieking incoherently, a fury all tooth and nail, biting and kicking.
After this I don’t know any more.
* * * *
I don’t recognise the room I’m in, but it has high ceilings. Shutters on the outside block whatever sunlight tries to slant its golden fingers through the slats. Posters peel off the walls, depicting a plethora of long-haired metal heads, Goths and their mascots: dragons, wolves, demons and more than one voluptuous half-naked female I assume is a somewhat naive rendering of a witch.
Clothing is strewn everywhere, almost completely covering the hardwood floor. The bed is a mess of linen and I start when I make eye contact with the man seated on the edge. Ashton Kennedy—in his prime.
He cradles his head on his arms, hair spilling loose over his shoulders. Ashton becomes aware of my presence because he looks up, sees me and jumps to his feet. I take a step back just in time, just before he jabs an accusing finger at my eye.
“You! You’ve stolen my life!”
Chapter 6
What the Hell, Ash
A sharp slap brings me to my senses and I sit up, a man’s scream still ringing in my ears. I’m in bed—Marlise’s bed. Candles flicker on her desk, casting grotesque shadows on the walls and ceiling as the flames dance. A herd of elephants tap-dances through my skull.
“Ash! Please! No more!” Marlise straddles my chest, leaning over me so her hair spills over her shoulder. Her eyes glisten with tears.
“Where? How?” The road, the men, the attempted hijacking… Oh my gods, she saw me wield my powers. I fall back, my entire body ablaze, my head throbbing in time to my pulse.
“I got my dad and my brothers to bring you in. They’re dealing with the cops. I’m sorry, had to call the cops. We didn’t tell them about you. Didn’t want any trouble.”
“But they’ll talk, the hijackers, I mea—”
“They’re dead, Ash.”
My world crashes to a standstill. We stare at each other for a good while. I hardly dare to breathe.
Eventually I speak. “Dead.” I’ve never knowingly killed anyone before. Not even in self-defence. Yet I can’t bring myself to feel anything for that one word relating to the fate of those two men. I should, but I don’t. I raise a hand; look at the fingers where blue-green motes tease me with their almost-visibility. Then I make eye contact with Marlise, unable to hide the frown that is the physical manifestation of my suspicion. “What did you tell them?”
“That there was an explosion by the substation that somehow coincided, knocked them out. All the cars in the neighbourhood for four blocks won’t start, the substation looks like a bomb has exploded. The police think it’s a terrorist attack or something. I’ve made out that I interrupted them while they were planting a bomb. Things are still very unclear. Did a good job acting the hysterical woman.” Marlise smiles, but her lips twitch.
What the hell? The girl has more backb
one than I expected. “And no one’s mentioned me? Absolutely no nothing at all?”
She shakes her head. “But you’ve got to find somewhere else to stay. Soon. Dad said when you’re feeling… It was my dad who suggested we didn’t involve you. Said it was better for everyone concerned.”
“I’m trouble. I know.” A big cover-up. I’m sure this won’t be the first time I’m pathetically grateful for the help of strangers.
“What’s going on?” She shifts, and my body protests.
“Argh, if you get off me, maybe I can try to tell you.”
Her eyes widen, but she slips off me then sits, feet tucked under her backside, on the other side of the bed. I push myself so that I’m leaning my back against the headboard. Where the hell do I start?
“Damn, no matter what I say, this is going to sound unbelievable.”
“Try me. People don’t just fly through the air when you point at them. Entire blocks don’t just blink out with no power. Substations don’t just explode.” Her expression hardens.
My options don’t look good. I don’t have resources. At some point, if I continue involving Marlise in this mess my life has become, she’s going to find out everything or, by the looks of it, suffer severe injury. Either I give her something to go on or I get up out of this bed now, put some clothing on and walk out into the night. Neither option’s going to be pretty.
“Ash?”
“For Christ’s sake! Give me a moment!” I don’t mean to raise my voice but I do.
“I need answers.” For once Marlise isn’t cowering. She’s risen to her knees and has placed her hands on her hips. “If I don’t get answers I’m going to… Screw it! I don’t know what I’m going to do with you but I think, after all that I’ve been through looking after you, I deserve to know what the hell is going on. How can you knock those guys back as if you’ve got Jedi powers or something?”
“Jedi powers?” I frown.
“Star Wars?” she offers.
My Blessed memories remain decidedly blank on that topic.
“Oh, never mind! What in heaven’s name is going on? It’s like you’ve stepped out of another era. You don’t even talk like you used to.”
“All right!” I draw a deep breath. “The short version is that Ashton Kennedy died just over four months ago. I’m some glorified disembodied spirit that has reincarnated in his body. Only I wasn’t supposed to take over his body. I was supposed to take over the body of a young girl named Catherine van Vuuren, but as far as I can tell, either she’s dead or her family isn’t listed, or they’ve left the country. I don’t know.
“I am a member of an esoteric order that uses the bodies of recently deceased people to return and continue the work of those who await in a…a sort of afterlife. But I’ve got problems. The chapter house where I should have been able to access my order’s resources is gone and I have no idea what happened.” I hang my head. “And that is the truth. And you’re not going to believe me. And I’m not really a man. I was a woman… Her name was Lizzie.” This last part I mumble, and I’m not sure if she catches it. My story sounds like pure fantasy. I’m not even sure I believe myself.
Deafening silence allows me to concentrate on the ringing in my ears and the way my head throbs with each beat of my heart. I don’t blame Marlise if she gets up to call the cops, or the men in the white coats. Nothing matters.
Marlise moves on the mattress and I half expect her to get up, but she doesn’t. She scoots closer, covering my hands with hers.
“Ash. Look at me. I’m not sure if I want to, but I’m going to try to believe you, okay? Because I can’t see any other rational way to explain what I saw two hours ago.”
I make eye contact. “You’re going to try to believe me? How’s that supposed to help? Look, if you can help me just get past this I’ll clear out of your life. I’ll try to find a way to pay you back for the trouble you’ve taken. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean for things to spin out of hand.”
Her frown vanishes. “I can see you don’t mean for things to be so crazy, okay? And if it’s any consolation, I think I like this new Ash more than the old.”
“Um. Thanks. I’m not sure I know how to take that.”
She laughs before sitting back again. “I’m not sure what’s going on but I’m glad…for this.” Marlise gestures vaguely between me and her.
“I don’t know if it’s safe for me to be around you.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does. Why did you allow him to walk all over you? He was…not a very nice man.”
“Oh, god.” She buries her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. One minute I want to believe you, because it makes more sense, explains so much more, but it sounds so crazy.” Marlise looks up. “You’re not joking about being someone else, are you?” Tears streak down her cheeks.
“No. I could tell you plenty of stuff Ashton didn’t know. I could show you places nobody alive today could possibly know about.”
“Thing is, I don’t know what I should do about this. Part of me wants to laugh you off as being delusional, that the time you had that accident you got brain damaged. People who’ve woken after long comas have been known to suffer personality changes. But your recovery, it’s just so uncanny, as the doctor called it. We’d have expected you to be wheelchair-bound, with some loss of motor function, to have some sort of speech impediment at least. The doctor was very explicit about this. But you just recovered. Completely. Except for the total change in personality. It’s just not natural.” Marlise shakes her head.
I rack my memories for some of the knowledge. They had told me that Inkarna abilities do, to a certain degree, extend to facilitate rapid healing. Once established, our souls are tenacious, our ability to manipulate reality resulting in all manner of effects. To tell Marlise will bring cold comfort.
“I don’t know what to say.”
She looks so lost, so vulnerable where she sits, holding herself at what she probably considers a safe distance, though it’s clear she wants to be closer.
Marlise laughs. “It’s like something in one of my novels.”
I roll my eyes and can’t help but snort softly. “It’s not a game.”
“What now?”
“That’s my question. I don’t know. I suppose I focus on getting better.”
“We could move out. I’ve some savings from my tutoring.”
“We?” She’s clearly the one who’s delusional.
Marlise nods. “You think I want to spend the rest of my life living with my parents?”
“What? Are you crazy? You hardly know me!” I want to tell her it wouldn’t be right, but at this point words fail me.
Marlise crawls across the bed and kisses me, hard, on the mouth, her tongue flicking against my lips. I want to push her away, want to protest, but my body betrays me, giving in to her insistence. When last has someone kissed me with real passion? An answering fire in my groin should alarm me, but it’s been such a long time to be without physical affection. Her body is so soft beneath my hands as I lift the heavy jersey she’s wearing to cup her breasts. It’s then that it registers: she’s a woman.
I break away, pushing myself up with a groan, half in pain and half in confusion. “I can’t. It’s too soon.”
She sits up, a hand to her mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Um, yes.” She thinks I’m hurting from what happened a few hours before. I pull my legs up to my chest and turn to look at the posters on the wall. Anywhere but here. For the first time since I’ve awoken, I’m in a position to do something about having a hard-on. It’s not something I want to consider, this aching hunger festering down there, and I know perfectly well how I can assuage it. Marlise certainly is no stranger to having a man in her bed, one man specifically. But I’m not that man anymore.
It hurts trying to think too hard on how I’m becoming Ashton Kennedy, slipping into his old life.
&n
bsp; “You’ve stolen my life!” his spectre shouted at me in that dream. His features, contorted in rage, make me curl onto my side, a low moan of pain mingled with fear ripping from my lips.
“I’ll go get the painkillers,” Marlise says.
* * * *
Marlise has taken the phone off the hook but, shortly after sunrise, someone knocks discreetly on her door and she steps outside. I wake long enough to register this but it’s not long before she returns to creep into the bed, bringing the cold air with her.
“Ash?” she queries.
“Mmm?”
“I just got a call from a friend of mine who’s friends with Isabelle.”
This has me opening my eyes. “You’re friends with someone who’s friends with Isabelle?”
She shrugs next to me. “It’s a small scene.”
“What about Isabelle?”
“Her brother apparently got killed last night, in some freak accident here, in Plumstead.” Marlise almost mumbles those words.
“What?” I sit up, immediately wishing I hadn’t. A wall of pain smashes through my skull. A warm hand rests on my shoulder while I wait out the bright sparks flashing before my eyes.
“There’s no connection, at least not yet. You may not know this, but Isabelle’s brother reportedly had connections to the Russian mob, or so they say. The two of you were as thick as thieves, for a while, allegedly. It happened during a time when you and I weren’t…close.”
It doesn’t take much of a leap of an imagination to do the maths. I ask her, “Do you think he had something to do with the accident, the first one that resulted in this?” I point at my head.
She nods then shakes her head. “Yes. No. I don’t know. The guy Isabelle was dating a while back ended up on the wrong side of Alexei’s fists. There was some sort of assault charge, but the case got mysteriously dropped and Alexei didn’t even have to go to court. Smells fishy. In all the confusion when we got back, I didn’t recognise him. I’d only ever seen photos of him on Facebook. Not enough to recognise him in the dark with a gun pointed to my head, but it seems to be making some sense now.”
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