by Tricia Barr
I frowned at him. “What do you mean, you don’t sleep?” I sat up in the bed and propped myself on one hand, scrutinizing him with my sleepy gaze.
He shrugged against the pillow he was reclining on, all bare-chested and gorgeous. “I don’t need to. Sleep is for the living, and I’m not technically alive.”
I continued to frown at him, understanding finally dawning on me. Killian said he’d died a thousand years ago. He never said he was reborn. But then, how was he laying here in front of me?
“So, I had it right the first time I saw you,” I said. “You are a ghost. But how are you so solid? We kissed all night, I… How could I kiss you, touch you, if you aren’t alive?” I touched him again, feeling the undeniable warmth of firmness of his flesh. He was as real as any other living person I’d ever come across.
He sat up. “It’s hard to explain. My skin, my body, it’s all real, but it’s more…manifested than living. My soul is not bound to it, and if my soul were not in it, the body would dissolve and disappear.”
“You lost me,” I said, shaking my head.
“I needed to have a body to be able to come to you, to exist in the physical world of the living,” he explained. “But I couldn’t get reborn, not to mention that such a thing would have taken years and I wouldn’t remember any of this. No, I needed a body immediately. After a certain amount of time and practice, unprocessed spirits—those that don’t go through the Gate—acquire certain skills, one of which is the ability to manipulate the molecules in the air and create a physical body. I watched a small handful of spirits actually accomplish this over time, but when they do form a body, that body doesn’t usually keep its shape for very long, and it’s very thin and fragile. I knew that, with my added powers from the Gate, I’d be able to create a better functioning, longer lasting body. And so, I did. It doesn’t need food or sleep or even breath. I have had to remind myself to breathe to appear human to onlookers, especially you.”
My jaw was hanging open almost the whole time he was talking. It was too fantastical to believe. I had come across so many hundreds of ghosts, and never once did I meet any that could manipulate anything in the physical world, let alone create their own body. The idea was just unfathomable. But then again, I had already acknowledged that I was no expert of the supernatural. I had experienced so little of the world, mostly by my own doing, too afraid to see what was out there, what others couldn’t see.
I took Killian’s hand and turned it over in my hands, examining it. It was a perfect male hand, large and strong. His fingertips had intricate circles, just like my fingerprints. There was nothing to suggest that this hand wasn’t real. I could even see little veins under his skin pulsing.
I traced the lines in it with my index fingers. “Can you feel that?” I looked up, and his eyes had closed, enjoying the sensation.
He nodded, and I blushed.
My eyes caught sight of the digital clock on the night stand next to him. 11:15 flashed in red from the rectangular screen.
“Woah, I didn’t realize it was so late,” I said. “We should get going.”
I hopped off the bed and scoured the floor for my shirt. I spotted it and pulled it on.
“Where are we going?” Killian asked.
“I have to go back to Vegas,” I said. “Smooth found me. And if he told anyone back there about it, they’ll come for Carmella. I have to put a stop to them once and for all, so she will be safe.”
Killian came toward me and gently took my arm in his hand, shaking his head. “No, you don’t have to do that,” he said. “Yes, Smooth found you, but I stopped him before he could do anything with that information. No one is going to come for you and Carmella.”
His words instantly brought back the memory of him killing Smooth in that parking garage. In all the commotion and revelation of the last few hours, I had completely forgotten about that little piece of the puzzle.
“That’s right, you killed him,” I said, accidentally in an accusing tone.
Killian’s mouth upturned into a sad frown. “Yes, I did. I had no choice. He was never going to stop coming after you. Luca was like a father to him, and he hated you for killing him. I tried to scare him off. I tried every other tactic I could think of. But he wasn’t ever going to stop. Killing him was the only way to keep you safe from him, and once he knew where you were, he forced my hand.” He looked up at me with a question mark on his face. “How did you know about Smooth?”
It hurt to know that Smooth hated me so much. But I knew what Killian said was true. Smooth did idolize Luca. Luca had picked him up out of the gutter and given him a home, a job, and a life. It was regrettable that Smooth had to die, and even more so that Killian had been forced to kill him. All to save me.
“I saw you,” I replied with a wavering voice. “The other night, before we were supposed to go on our date, I was attacked again and tracked you down in search of answers. I used a GPS phone tracking app to find you, and it led me to the parking garage at the school. I was looking for you when I saw Smooth enter the garage. I stayed out of sight and followed him…and that’s when I saw you kill him. The way you two were talking, I thought maybe they sent you after me. I was so confused and scared and paranoid, I didn’t know what else to think.”
Killian pulled me toward him and then closed me into a comforting embrace.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” he said softly into my hair. “I had no idea you were watching. Of course, you were terrified of me after that. That explains why you distanced yourself from me, why you canceled our date.” He held me for a moment longer, soothing me through the loss of someone I considered a friend, even if that someone had been determined to kill me. “I’m sorry I brought this on you. I’m sorry for so many things.”
I pulled away and looked up at him, shaking my head. “No, please stop being sorry. You did your time for a thousand years to earn entrance into Heaven. Don’t you dare let guilt over me undo it all. No more apologies, no more regrets.” My voice had gone stern and I was jabbing my index finger into his chest.
He smiled his handsome amused smile at me. “Okay, deal. No more regrets.”
I pushed up on my tiptoes and pecked his pretty smiling lips. “So, you’re sure there’s no reason to go back to Vegas? You’re sure that Carmella is safe from them?”
Killian nodded. “Smooth came to Seattle on no more than a hunch. I disposed of his body far away from Seattle, far away from you. When the gang finds out where he is, they will never be able to track his death back here. You and Carmella are safe from them. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”
I sighed heavily with relief. And then I remembered the panic-inducing note I had written Carmella, and a sick feeling churned in my guts.
“If the Vegas gang isn’t a threat anymore, then I have to go back to Carmella,” I said. “She’s probably going out of her mind with worry right now. I left her a note saying that I was in danger and that I’d come back when I had it resolved. I’ve caused her enough problems, I don’t want to be the reason for a heart attack, or even a strand of gray hair. She needs to know I’m okay. And I want her to meet you. You two are the most important people in my life, and I want to spend as much of my last year with both of you as possible. That will work better if she knows you exist.” I laughed.
“Sounds good to me,” Killian said.
I found his shirt on the floor and picked it up, then held it for a moment, debating whether to return it to him, or to make him remain shirtless for the drive back to Seattle. Ultimately, I decided to be merciful, and I tossed his shirt at him. “Let’s go home,” I said.
***
The three-hour drive back to Seattle was fun. Getting to know the real Killian was so much better than any of the tense, albeit exciting moments we spent together as lab partners. Now that I didn’t feel the need to protect or hide myself, I let all my barriers down and let the real me come out. Being with him was more natural than breathing. Our connection was automat
ic and comfortable.
I couldn’t wait to introduce him to Carmella. Well, after I figured out how to explain things to her. I didn’t want to tell her about Smooth. I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily. So, I decided to tell her that my nightmares had gone out of control, and that I thought they were an omen for something—I was sure that she would believe that. I would say that Killian, who was just a friend from school, found me about to run away and talked me out of it, and that we just clicked—which we did. Hopefully that would be enough of an explanation for her. I certainly couldn’t tell her that Killian was the main reason I ran away in the first place.
The closer we got to my house, the more anxious I became. I wanted this encounter to go well. I needed Carmella to like Killian. If she, for any reason, didn’t like him, it would completely throw off my whole last year—dang it, I really must stop reminding myself it’s my last year of life!
Finally, we pulled up in my driveway. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped shakily out of the car. I looked at Killian, and then we walked up to the front door together.
“Why don’t you just wait here for a moment,” I suggested. “I’ll signal you to come in after I’ve explained my strange note and disappearance to her.”
“Wait!” Killian cut me off, looking at the door as if he were seeing through it. “Something’s wrong.”
I didn’t wait for him to elaborate. I opened the door, practically slamming it against the wall, and barged inside.
“Carmella!” I called, desperately hoping she’d answer.
My head darted from side to side as I went through the kitchen, then the living room, in search of her. I leaped up the stairs, skipping steps as I zoomed upwards, and headed for her room.
“Carmella!” I called again more urgently.
I looked down the hall toward her bedroom; the door was open a crack. I ran for it and pushed it all the way open. I froze on the spot, ice spreading through my veins.
The room looked like a World War II battle zone. There wasn’t a single thing in it that wasn’t broken or shattered or shredded beyond repair. There were holes and craters all over the walls and ceiling, like the moon had been turned inside out. The canopy of the bed was standing cock-eyed on only two legs, one side having collapsed under two broken ones. The pillows had been disemboweled, their feathers littering everything in sight, with several still in the process of falling. The window curtains had been yanked off their rods, and their rods were hanging on to the wall by a single screw in sad desperation. Every mirror and picture frame lay in shattered fragments all over the carpet, every book ripped to shreds, every expensive and delicate article of clothing torn to scraps strewn across Carmella’s private sanctuary.
But none of that was the worst part.
Carmella’s once beautiful, robust and vibrant body lay broken and battered on the floor amidst the rubble. The image was so horrifying that my brain convinced itself that it wasn’t real, that I was hallucinating or dreaming. It was just too much to accept that something this awful could have happened to the one person in the world who meant the most to me.
Killian’s steps thundered up the stairs behind me, and then stopped abruptly inches from me.
“Oh no,” I heard him whisper gravely. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, saying nothing else. There was nothing to say. There was no combination of words in any language that could make this better.
I staggered into the room, my shoes crunching over the broken glass and splintered wood, and I knelt beside her. I pushed away all the debris that covered her, my tears raining on my arms as they worked. I picked up her hand and hugged it against my chest, cherishing what little of her remained.
“I’m so sorry, Carmella,” I whispered as tears freely fell. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here to protect you.”
Excruciating guilt welled up inside me, threatening to shatter me from the inside out and making me squeeze my eyes shut, lest it blind me with the force of its escape. I let out a blood-curdling scream, the sound of pure sorrow rattling the windows. And then an avalanche of sobs rolled over my shoulders, and I crumpled defeatedly onto Carmella’s lifeless chest.
Large hands pulled me away from her and tucked me into a warm and loving embrace, enveloping me with strong arms that promised reprieve from the pain. Killian held me as I cried, letting my tears soak his shirt.
I knew this was Luca’s doing. If any of Smooth’s thugs had come here for Carmella, they would have executed a clean and quiet kill, just like they did with my parents. No, this was the action of someone who had nothing to fear, an action of pure retaliation and revenge. I remembered the way Luca’s dark powers had levitated me and tossed me around the room, and I knew that’s what happened here. This display was Luca’s way of punishing me for evading him in the forest. If he couldn’t hurt me directly, he would hurt me in a way more painful than any physical wound—taking away my only family.
“This is all my fault,” I wept. “He killed Carmella because he couldn’t get to me. If I had known, I would have gladly sacrificed myself. Why does everyone I love have to die? I really am a curse!”
“Wait, Lorelei, do you feel that?” Killian asked. The alarm in his voice made me look up at his face.
“What?” I hiccupped and wiped my face with the back of my hand.
He was looking down at Carmella’s body, again as if he were seeing through her body. What did he see that I could not?
“Look,” he said, pointing to her chest. “Look at her body, really look at it. What do you see?”
I pressed my palms against my eyes to force away the tears, then looked down at Carmella’s chest, unsure of exactly what I was supposed to see. All I could see when I looked at her was the corpse of my adopted mom, the woman who had taken care of me for the last seven years, and the pain and self-hatred stabbed at my heart.
I tried to push it away, tried to see past what was on the surface. According to Killian, I was missing something, though I failed to see how that mattered now. Now that Carmella was dead.
As I stared at her still form, I more felt something than saw it—a faint glow. Suddenly, I realized what Killian meant for me to see. Carmella’s soul was still here, it hadn’t moved on! She must not know she was dead, her soul was still hovering just within her body, unwilling to let go. But what did that matter?
The realization must have triggered a reaction in my expression, because Killian said, “You see it, don’t you? Her soul is still here.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand why that’s important,” I said through sniffles.
“Do you remember what I told you about your mother?” he asked, his eyes shining with excitement. “You brought her back to life, Lorelei.”
Understanding dawned inside me like the most blinding, brilliant sunrise breaking over a mountain. Hope sprang in my belly and flowed through me until I was full to bursting with it. I could bring Carmella back!
“What do I do?” I asked excitedly, gripping Killian’s shirt with my hands in my urgency. “How does it work?”
“I’ve never done it myself before,” he said, rubbing my shoulders soothingly. “I’ve only seen it done once, by you. You have to lock onto her soul like you do when you rip out a soul. But rather than pulling it out of the body, you have to push it in. The soul is the battery that gives life to the body. You have to push it until you feel it click, if that makes any sense. Once the soul latches back on, the body will return to life.”
“But…she must have been dead for hours,” I said. “How do we know it will work? And if it does, what if she’s…not right? What if she suffers permanent damage because of it?”
He shook his head, as if disagreeing with my fears. “When you brought your mother back, she healed remarkably quickly, from everything. Her skin repaired itself where it would have required stitches before you brought her back. I can’t explain how it works, but I think forcing the soul back into the body guarantees life and encourages healing.”
&nbs
p; I pursed my lips, caught between the hope of saving Carmella and the fear of hurting even further.
“Trust me, Lorelei,” he said, cupping my face in those wonderfully warm hands. “I feel in my soul that this is the right thing to do.”
That was all I needed to convince me, the conviction I saw in those moodstone eyes.
I put my hands on Carmella’s chest and closed my eyes, focusing my senses so that my spiritual sense had the upper hand. I felt for her soul, and instantly locked onto it. I felt how it was supposed to fit into her body, like a precise puzzle piece that had to be put into place in exactly the right way. I felt the part of her brain that was the anchor to her soul, and it pulled her soul like a weak magnet. I took a deep breath and pushed her soul into place, pushing harder and harder until—finally—I felt it click! Her brain reconnected with her soul, and I could feel the life force spreading throughout her body as all the moving parts began to work and return to function.
Her loud and hoarse gasp shocked my eyes open. She struggled for several minutes to get her breathing under control, as if she was learning to do it all over again.
“Carmella, you’re alive!” was all I could say as I sat beside her, desperately wanting to smother her with hugs but knowing she needed space to breathe.
“We have to get her to a hospital,” Killian said. “Her healing is slightly accelerated, but she will still need medical attention, and the safety of others.”
I nodded. “She’s not the only one who will need the safety of others. If Luca came after Carmella, he will likely go after Trixie next, and keep going until he’s eliminated everyone I’ve ever cared about.” The weight of my next words fell over my chest, and I had to force them out. “This has to end. I can’t let him run rampant anymore. It’s time to re-open the Gate.”
The truth was a massive pill to swallow, for both of us. The possibility of stealing one small moment in time to be together had brought such bright hope, and now that that possibility had been snatched away from us, the world looked darker than it had before.