by Tee, Marian
"Yes." Hadrian's tone was absent-minded. "I won't be long, but feel free to look around the lab while Aesculapius and I talk."
"What exactly are we here for?"
"His test on the subject's phalanges—-"
"Fa-lan-gees?" Here we go again. First, there was Kirkey, and now Falangees. How was it that I had managed to live and die without encountering these words? Looking up at him, I asked hopefully, "Maybe you mean...fallacy?"
"I could," he allowed, "if it was possible to drown and burn such a thing into ashes."
The contemplative tone of his voice didn't fool me, and I said accusingly, "You're secretly laughing at me again, aren't you?"
"Of course not."
"You are," I said with a sigh. "I know you are, but it's fine. I'd probably laugh at you, too, if it turns out you don't know who Billie Eilish is."
"I don't."
"Knew it," I said smugly. "Guess that makes us even." And I also ended up getting the last word, with the doors finally swooshing open to let us in.
While Hadrian went straight to the white-haired gentleman working behind a desk, I walked towards the first thing that caught my eye: a glass cabinet of curiosities, filled with bottles of colorful liquids. Interestingly enough, the first row contained samples from all five major rivers of the Underworld. The bottle labeled Lethe seemed no different from any bottle of sparkling water, only this one could obviously wipe your memory. The bottle labeled as Phlegethon, on the other hand, contained a bright orange liquid that seemed just one pop away from boiling out of its containment. As for the three other bottlers, there was Acheron (blue), Cocytus (purple), and good old hate-filled Styx, which was pure black.
Since the two gentlemen behind me were still talking in what I could only assume was Greek, I moved towards the dissection tables and tried not to think about how my corpse had probably been laid out on the same thing.
Most movies made it seem like the first thing you'd want to see when you woke up dead was your equally lifeless body, but that was just another piece of bullshit Hollywood liked to feed us. Some things were just too painful to see with your own eyes, and though I eventually managed to find out where I was buried, it was an address I had simply filed away in my mind. It was something I had liked knowing but never had any intention of actually visiting.
And let's end it at that, Saoirse Sullivan. No moping about your old life!
I marched towards the only dissection table that was occupied, determined to keep all thoughts of the past at the past in my mind. The present was what mattered, and right now the present involved staring down at a tray of badly burnt finger bones.
"Also known as phalanges," Hadrian murmured silkily as he came to stand next to me.
I coughed 'show off' under my breath, but this only made him smirk.
Oh, be still, my heart.
A man who was smart, confident, and with a sense of humor? That was as rare as finding Snorlax in the wild...and it was just my luck, to have found someone like him when I was already dead.
ON THE DRIVE BACK TO the city, I asked Hadrian about the results of the autopsy and saw his look of surprise when I did. "You truly want to know?"
I wrinkled my nose. "Did you think I was just humoring you back at the hospital?"
"Truthfully? Yes."
"Then you should be happy to be wrong, shouldn't you? You're looking at the girl who watched all seasons and spin-offs of CSI," I shared proudly, "and that includes the sadly short-lived CSI Cyber."
"Impressive credentials," he offered, and I couldn't help snickering even though I knew 3/4th of his words were meant to be an insult.
"Just give me the deets, come on. I'll be the perfect Watson to your Homes," I promised. "You'll see."
"I can indeed see it quite easily," he murmured, "and it's quite frightening."
"Stop being so mean," I scolded him. "I liked you better when you were just Tall, Dark, and Handsome."
"And I'm no longer that?"
"Now, you're just Tall, Dark, and Hateful."
He laughed.
"So if you want to be Tall, Dark, and Handsome again—-"
"I suppose I do."
"Then answer my questions."
"Fire away, milady."
Milady? It almost had me distracted...until I realized that might just be what he was hoping for, and I raised my chin. "I'm not going to let you distract me, milord." He started to speak, but I held my hand up in a bid for silence. "Question number one," I announced. "Do subjects in Tartarus still retain their DNA even while they're..." Being punished? Tortured? Serving their sentences?
"While they're what?"
"While they're there," I finished lamely.
"There's nothing to feel guilty about," Hadrian said. "And if it makes you feel better, the kind of people that are, err, there in Tartarus include the likes of Hitler, Jack the Ripper, Emperor Nero—-"
"Ne-Yo?"
"Nero."
"I don't know him."
"Just another bad person," he clarified in that cute-but-also-annoying solemn tone of his, "and to answer your question, yes, the subjects do still retain their DNA, but since UW liked swimming in dangerous waters..."
"Not enough DNA from MS' bones?" I winced at his nod. "Shit."
"That was my initial reaction, too—-" Hadrian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "—-until I learned about the one promising lead that the autopsy revealed. It's what Aesculapius wanted to talk about, actually." He gestured to the iPad that had been integrated into the car's dashboard, saying, "Use that to Google what a catoblepas is."
I did as asked, and the search results showed a furry bull-like creature with a head that was too heavy for its elongated neck to carry. "Is this real?"
"Humans don't think so, but it's real. It's known as the African Gorgon because its stare is fatal, but that's not the only thing dangerous about it. Catoblepones can also emit a scent that's just as fatal—-"
"Like a deadly raccoon," I surmised. "But I don't see what this has to do with your case."
"The waters of Phlegethon might have made it impossible to identify MS' corpse through DNA, but one thing the flames hadn't been able to get rid of was its smell. There was enough of it clinging to the bones to be detectible but not enough to cause actual damage."
"I think I'm following you somewhat, but how did the smell get to the subject's bones?"
"Catoblepas pill," Hadrian answered succinctly. "It's to neutralize the senses, and you'd certainly need one if you're thinking of swimming in the river of Phlegethon."
"Painless suicide, in other words."
"And a good plan, too," Hadrian acknowledged evenly. "The Underworld receives over 150,000 new souls each day, and we're unable to process them all at once."
I fought to keep my face expressionless at his words. We. He had used 'we', like he was part of the Underworld. Did that make him a bounty hunter for Hell or something else?
"It would still be possible to determine the identity of the missing subject by going through all of our records, but by the time we've uncovered the subject's identity—-"
"It would've been too late," I finished for him, "wouldn't it?" If guys in Mission Impossible films could pull off face switches, then the sky was probably the limit for guys who knew magic.
"Yes."
"So what now? I mean, how does the fact that your UW ingested a catoblepas pill help you figure out who she or MS is?"
"Catoblepas breeders are far and between. NSA has already forwarded its findings to CSI, and they'll give me a call as soon as they've found a match. In the meantime..."
I literally jumped in my seat when Hadrian suddenly reached for my hand, and when my gaze flew up to his...
Oh....yes!
"I was wondering..." His voice had turned into a soft, velvety purr that had my body aching and melting in all the right places. "If you had any plans for tonight..."
My heart pounded against my chest. "That depends."
His lips curved. "On wha
t?"
"If your plans involve having any clothes on."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then I'm all yours."
Chapter Three
DEAR DIARY,
Old habits died hard (pun intended). I sorta knew this when I was alive, but I became deadly sure about it when I was dead. It was the only answer I could think of, with the way my lungs still forced me to breathe and my heart still persisted on beating. Thank God my womb knew better than to follow suit. What good would it do to be a ghost if you still had to have periods every month?
I DIDN'T REALLY HAVE much time to look around Hadrian's apartment. We started kissing the moment we were inside it, and oh, it was as if absolutely nothing had happened between now and the first time I laid eyes on him. You'd think stinky catoblepones, burnt bones, and all that talk about murder and Hell would've dampened our mutual lust, but...nope. Like, seriously...nope.
Foreplay would've been unnecessary even, but Hadrian clearly thought otherwise as he gently laid me on his bed. Silver eyes locking with mine, he took his own sweet time undressing me, and by the time he started undressing himself, I was too overcome with desire, and all I could do was ache and hurt and burn at the sight of his beautiful, naked body.
He was ripped. Totally and exquisitely ripped that I could risk betting a million dollars for anyone to find even a single inch of flab. And trust me, you would lose.
Everything about him was so damn perfect that a part of me was already waiting and dreading the moment he'd remember I was a ghost and start freaking out. But he didn't. I kept waiting to see even the faintest hint of disgust or terror in his smoldering gaze, but there was just nothing in those eyes except a fierce, savage glitter of need.
And that need...was all for me.
When he finally returned to the bed, and the full, hard weight of his body pressed over me, I could only close my eyes and arch up as I wrapped my arms around him. Please God. If you're listening...can I have this man with me, even just for a little while? I just...
"Saoirse."
Hadrian's low growl had me blinking my eyes open.
"Stop thinking," he ordered, "and start kissing me back."
My lips curved helplessly. "Sorry." And I closed my eyes obediently after that and started kissing him back.
The sexual chemistry between us was off the charts, and by the time his mouth hungrily trailed down, I was already a trembling, moaning mess, my fingers curling against the sheets as his hot breath teased the tips of my breasts.
A whimper slipped past my lips as he started to suckle on one straining bud, and I couldn't stop myself from clutching his head as he moved to my other breast. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. I fought against crying the words out, but when he had already moved further down, and I felt his breath caress my silken folds...it was just too much, and the words came out in a helpless little moan.
"Please don't stop."
And Hadrian responded by stroking my most intimate flesh with his tongue.
Oh God.
My fingers clawed his back, and I heard him suck his breath just as his fingers tightened its hold on my thighs. The thrusts of his tongue drove me wild, but with his hands pinning my hips down, there was nothing I could do but moan and grip the sheets as my stomach started to tighten. I could feel myself starting to shake harder and harder, but just when I was about to reach the peak, I felt him suddenly move away—-
"Noooooo."
But Hadrian was only repositioning himself, the muscles of his arms bulging as he braced himself just before slowly and steadily driving his manhood inside of me.
Aaaah.
He felt really, really, really good inside of me, and when he started moving, his thrusts driving deeper and harder, I could only cling to his shoulders and strain up to meet the downward strokes of his body. His beautiful, chiseled face was above me, his jaw tight, and oh God, just looking at it was enough...and suddenly, I felt it, the pleasure threatening to take over, and I moaned his name out.
"H-Hadrian..."
Our gazes clashed, just before his mouth slammed over mine, and he rasped out a command against my lips. "Come with me."
And I did.
I came as he asked, sobbing and shuddering, and the pleasure only intensified as he followed shortly after, his fingers digging hard into my bottom as he filled me with his seed.
THE OTHER HALF OF THE bed was empty when I woke up, and a glance at the bedside clock told me it was half past nine in the morning. Last night had been quite the revelation, with Hadrian turning out to be quite the insatiable lover. In my admittedly meager experience, I thought a man could only last for, um, a single bout per night, with the actual climax only lasting for some seconds, but yeah, Hadrian absolutely blew that theory sky high. He could make love for hours, could last so long that I actually ended up half-begging for respite. Half being the operative word, since the moment he whispered into my ear—-
You know you don't really want that.
Well, he turned out to be right. I hadn't really wanted any respite, and the last thing I remembered was my eyes closing as Hadrian continued to move with slow, languid strokes. It wasn't my first time to sleep in the afterlife, but this was definitely the first time I remembered succumbing to slumber without worry gnawing at my heart.
A little sigh of happiness slipped past my lips at the thought, and I stretched one last time before finally getting up...and that was when I saw it: a beautifully wrapped box propped against the TV console, and I was on my knees on the carpet in moments.
For Saoirse.
And below the boldly scribbled words was what I assumed was his signature...in Greek.
The big red bow tied around it loosened after a few tugs, and underneath layers of gift tissue was a crocheted shirt dress in soft, gray lace. It was the best gift ever, and you'd feel that way, too, if you were in my shoes. I had been a ghost for months, and the only piece of clothing I owned was the same dress I had died in...until now.
Tears rushed down my cheeks as I tried not to think about how perfect and not perfect this moment was. It was amazing, just dazzlingly amazing, the way Hadrian seemed to instinctively know how to make me happy. But on the other hand...
Why did Tall, Dark, and Heavenly have to come now, when I was already dead?
It was a depressing thought, and if last night's memories weren't still so fresh in my mind, it would probably have been enough to turn me into a poltergeist. Or a succubus. But since I was a big girl who could handle big girl problems, I quickly wiped my tears off and headed off to the en-suite for a shower I didn't really need.
Just think of this as your one last fling on Earth, Saoirse Sullivan, I told myself, and no more than that.
I HAD JUST CHANGED into my new dress when Hadrian appeared by the doorway, looking rather dashing in his black knitted sweater and jeans.
"Hello there." His voice was deep and sexy, and I could feel my whole body responding to it.
"Hello there." I didn't resist as his hands clasped my waist to pull me close, and it felt all too natural to wrap my arms around his neck as his head bent down. It was a long, deep, drugging kiss, and by the time he raised his head my lips felt wonderfully swollen.
"Would it sound weird if I told you I can't remember the last time I felt this wonderful?" I paused. "Or maybe that's just the sex talking. I've only had three boyfriends my entire life, and it was just the last one who—-" The rest of my words disappeared under his kiss, one that was so deliciously rough that he had me panting by the time it ended. "What—-"
"I don't like hearing you talk about other men."
If there was a mirror nearby, I bet I'd see my eyes sparkling right now. "Are you actually...jealous?"
He frowned. "Why does that come as a surprise to you?"
Why indeed?
I threw my arms around him and heard Hadrian grunt when I gave him a big, tight hug. "You're right. Why am I arguing? I am a woman worth being jealous about so be sure not to make me—-"
Hadrian was kissing again, but this time I had a feeling it was simply to shut me up.
Now that I wasn't so preoccupied with the thought of sex, I was better able to appreciate my surroundings, and just like the bedroom, Hadrian's dining area boasted of concrete walls, carpeted flooring, and cream accents. I had imagined his apartment to be bolder and more masculine or even industrial than this, but the more I thought about it, I realized that the elegant but laidback feel of his place perfectly matched his personality. Calm and solid as a rock, but still not the kind of guy you'd want to mess with.
Hadrian came out of the kitchen with plates of buttered toast and omelette. It looked so good that it had my mouth watering, and the sensation had me sitting up in astonishment. "I'm actually hungry," I burst out.
"Good."
"But you don't understand," I protested. "I was never hungry before. And now I am. Is this even normal?"
Hadrian didn't answer right away, and it felt surreal, watching him lay the plates down like we were just playing house. But when he finally took his seat and turned to face me—-
I gulped. Shit. The sober look on his face suddenly made me think maybe, maybe playing house was better.
Hadrian took hold of my hand, and I fought to stay calm. Deep breaths, Saoirse.
"How honest do you want me to be?"
"Shit." That only meant one thing. "It's completely not normal, is it?"
"When humans die their souls are normally drawn to the Underworld."
"I didn't feel anything like that," I blurted out.
"Then that means you fall on the other category," Hadrian said evenly. "Newly released souls—-"
My brows furrowed. Was that the politically correct term for ghosts?
"—-with unfinished business start out with distorted consciousness, and it's what causes them to be amorphous. Some souls remain trapped in this stage and eventually turn into corpse lights."
I mentally shuddered at the picture he painted. A floating light bulb for eternity? I'd rather die a hundred times over than suffer such a boring fate.