by Lily Morton
“Oh yes?” He smiles, and it’s glorious. Big and vibrant like his spirit. “Who’s that, then?”
“Some bloke I met. Too thin and extremely challenging.”
He laughs and leans down to kiss me.
“Enough of that,” the nurse says behind us, making us jump apart. “No shenanigans before breakfast.”
“And after breakfast?” Blue says, winking at her.
She grins. “That’ll be your own business once the doctor has seen him this morning.”
“I can go home?” I ask eagerly.
“You’re hurting my feelings,” she says wryly. “Yes, if he’s happy with you, then you can go.” She looks around. “You’ll need something to wear though. Your clothes had blood all over them from the cut on your head.”
She puts the tray down on the table in front of me and leaves us with a smile.
Blue stands up. “I’ll go back to the house and grab us both a few changes of clothing.”
“No,” I immediately protest. “I don’t want you going back there.”
My voice has risen and he motions for me to quieten down. “I’ve got to,” he says. “I need our wallets and some clothes.” He smiles at me. “I’ll be absolutely fine.”
“I’m sure that’s what the other bloke said,” I say sourly.
“Well, I’ve got a little bit of an advantage over the two of you because I can actually see them coming.” He shakes his head at me. “Will you feel better if I ask someone to meet me there?”
I relax back into the pillows. “Yes.”
“Okay, then I will.” He pushes the plate towards me. “I’ll share the toast with you and to show you how much I like you, I’ll only put marmite on half of it.” I open my mouth to say that I’m not hungry but shut it quickly at the sight of his stern face. “I know you don’t want to eat, but you need food in you so they’ll let you go and so you’re alert for our planning meeting.”
“Sounds like the council,” I say gloomily and he laughs.
“Well, that’s a cheerful sound for a hospital,” a gruff voice says from the curtain.
Blue’s face brightens. “Tom,” he exclaims and races over to hug the old man. I repress a smile at the way the old man huffs yet is so obviously thrilled.
Tom looks over at me and his face clouds with concern. “You okay, lad?”
I try to hitch myself up on my pillow, but the sharp twang of pain stops me in my tracks. Blue rushes over to help me, and I manage a smile for the old man. “I’m fine,” I say, leaning back against the pillow with a sigh of relief and giving Blue’s hand a squeeze of thanks.
Tom sinks into the chair that Blue indicates.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
He jerks his head at Blue. “Boy Wonder over there rang me late last night and told me what had happened.” His bushy eyebrows meet in a frown. “You can’t go back there, Levi.”
“I said that,” Blue says, leaning against the bed. “We’re going to stay in a hotel. I’m going back to the house in a bit to get a change of clothes and some money.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tom says. Blue looks like he’s going to protest, but Tom shakes his grey head firmly. “Don’t argue, Blue. You shouldn’t be in there on your own either. You’re even more vulnerable than Levi, and that’s saying something because he’s like a kitten on the bloody railway tracks.”
I blink. “I think I’m offended,” I muse, but Tom and Blue ignore me.
“I don’t want you to get hurt, Tom,” Blue argues predictably.
“I won’t,” Tom says irritably.
“Last time you were in the house you said you were scared you’d be stuck there.”
“I was bloody twelve,” Tom retorts. “I’ve learnt a few tricks since then.”
“Let Tom take you,” I say, closing my eyes briefly when the headache flares. When I open them, Blue is leaning over me looking at me with concern. “I’m okay,” I say slowly. “Head hurts.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I will, but only if you take Tom with you.” Blue stares at me, and I try a smile. “Safety in numbers,” I slur, feeling sleep dance and blur my mind.
“Okay,” Blue finally says with a sigh. “I’ll do that.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He leans down and kisses me softly. “I’ve never made promises to anyone before,” he whispers. “So you know I’ll keep that one. Now sleep.”
Blue
Tom, Will, and I stand outside the house staring up at it dubiously.
“It looks so normal,” I marvel. “Just like an average house.”
“Well, so did Amityville,” Will says comfortingly. “And look what happened there.”
Tom shakes his head. “Never take a job with the Samaritans.”
Will snorts. “Hardly likely. I’m at the pub when most people want to ring.”
I snort and pull out the key that Levi gave me the other day. I’d been so thrilled with it at the time. It was a symbol of trust and a sign that I was standing on the rung of a ladder ready to climb out of my old life. I sigh. Seems like my old life just hitched a ride along with me.
I look at the two of them. “Ready?”
Their smiles fall away and they nod seriously.
“It’s a bit of a mess,” I say, pushing the front door open and stepping gingerly in. “There was blood everywhere and glass from the pictures and—”
“Good imagination, lad,” Tom says, stepping in behind me. His back is straight and his gaze goes everywhere.
My eyes are trained on the hallway. “What the fuck?” I whisper. “Who did this?”
The hallway is immaculate. The carpet is straight, and there’s no trace of blood anywhere. The pictures are hanging on the walls again and the glass that had littered the floor is completely gone. I rub my chin and stare disbelievingly.
Will steps next to me. “Smells of perfume,” he observes.
Suddenly I can smell it. Lily of the valley.
“She did this,” I whisper, afraid to even say her name in this house now.
Tom looks over at me, and I don’t need to read his mind to know he’s troubled. He starts to say something and then reconsiders. “Get the stuff,” he orders me. I take a step, and he grabs my arm. “Make it very quick,” he says forcefully.
I share a troubled look with Will, and we leap into action. Leaving Tom, we dash upstairs. I show Will into the front bedroom. This room is immaculate too, the bed made neatly and no clothes anywhere. I bite my lip.
“Grab me and Levi a few changes of clothes,” I whisper. “I’ll go up to the studio and get his art stuff.”
“You sure you’re okay up there on your own?”
“It’s the safest place in the house,” I say without thinking and pause. “Why is that?” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t stop to consider it, Blue. I might not be fucking psychic, but even I can tell there’s something wrong in this house.” He shivers. “We need to get out of here.”
I nod and book it up the stairs. The studio is an oasis. It’s startlingly warm and sunny in here with none of the lowering feelings of the rest of the house. For a second I rest against the door, my eyes closed, and when I open them, I gasp. Rosalind is here as clear as day, standing against the back wall.
“Rosalind,” I gasp before I can think better of it.
She doesn’t seem to hear me. She stares down at the floor, seemingly absorbed in whatever she’s looking at. Usually ghosts are slightly see-through, but she’s as clear and real as if she were another human being.
A few strands of her hair have escaped her bun to curl softly against her rounded chin. The faint lines on the sides of her eyes are clearly visible and the violets on her dress are a light purple.
“Rosalind?” I try again, but she ignores me.
I get the impression that she actually can’t see or hear me, so instead of running back downstairs, I grab Levi’s rucksack and start to stuff his books and pencils into it a
nd anything else I think he might need.
When I’m done, I edge to the door. She’s still standing there like a sentinel for something I can’t see, but just before I leave I whisper, “Thank you, Rosalind.” I hesitate. “I know you tried to help him last night. I smelt your perfume in the hallway.” I remember that it had seemed to be mingled with the smell of blood and swallow hard. “I hope that it didn’t hurt you to help, but I’m so grateful to you for protecting Levi. He’s very special.”
She’s still examining that piece of floor as if it has the key to world peace. Maybe it’s something she did a lot in real life. Ghosts do seem to cling to routines.
When she lifts her head and looks at me, it’s such a shock that I nearly hit the ceiling. I gasp and put a hand to my chest as she examines my face intently. I open my mouth to try to speak but thundering footsteps sound behind me.
Will shouts, “Blue!” I look towards the door and when I turn back Rosalind has gone, leaving only the scent of her perfume.
“Shit,” I whisper.
“You alright?” Will asks, coming into the room. He brandishes a bag at me. “I’ve packed everything I think you’ll need.” He winks. “I’ve even included the condoms and lube, seeing as the two of you seem to be sharing a bed very cosily.”
“Will,” I say warningly.
He chuckles, but his smile dies when Tom shouts, “Blue!” from downstairs. There’s an urgency in the call.
“Coming,” I shout, and we race down the stairs. Tom is standing at the bottom. His face is pale and set. “You okay?” I ask breathlessly. “What’s happened?”
“We need to go,” he says abruptly.
I suddenly become aware of a knocking noise coming from the cellar. “What’s that?” I whisper.
Will shifts awkwardly.
“I don’t know,” Tom says. He shrugs. “I opened the door and I think I disturbed something because that started a few minutes later.”
We listen as the banging gets louder. It sounds like someone is hammering something. I tilt my head to the side, trying to read the air and gauge the feeling on it. I blink when I do. Absolute rage and hatred.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
For the first time since I’ve met Tom, he looks worried. “I know.”
“What?” Will asks. “What are you getting?”
“It’s not nice.” Tom turns towards the door. “I shouldn’t have opened it,” he mutters. “But I couldn’t help it. There’s something down there and it’s powerful and…” He shudders.
“What?” Will whispers, his face pale.
“Wicked,” he says abruptly. “There’s wickedness down there. I opened the door and couldn’t go down even a step—”
The banging stops. It’s ridiculous, but the sudden cessation of sound is the most startling and frightening thing that’s happened since we arrived.
“Okay,” Will finally says, making me jump. “It’s stopped. Can we please go now?”
The second he finishes the plea, a footstep sounds on the cellar stairs.
Then another. And another. The slow steps, deliberate and purposeful.
Then Tom says hoarsely, “We need to get out now,” and we’re a flurry of movement.
Will and I get stuck in the narrow doorway trying to leave the house, and it’s almost comical, like a cartoon. But there’s nothing funny about the grit of fear that lingers in the back of my throat, making my mouth dry. And still the footsteps sound from behind us.
The cellar door bursts open, and looking back automatically, I see the chandelier starting its mad dance again, spinning, the sound of tinkling glass silvery on the air.
Tom grabs me and pulls, and Will and I shoot out of the door like a cork from a bottle and fall on the ground in the silent street. The door slams behind us, shaking the house with the force of its movements.
For a second we don’t move, Will and I sitting on the cobbles and Tom staring up at the house. Then Will sighs and turns to me.
“You know when you said there must be something wrong with Levi and I pooh-poohed it?”
I nod.
“Well, this house is what’s fucking wrong with Levi.” He pokes me. “Why can’t you just take up with a cheating arsehole with an alcohol problem like normal people?”
Chapter 14
Levi
Blue lets us into our hotel room and guides me to the bed. I groan as I lower myself onto the mattress. “God, that feels good.”
He dumps the bags containing our supplies on the desk and marches back towards me, determination in every line of his body. He pulls my jeans off, leaving me in my boxers and T-shirt, and then lifts my feet gently onto the mattress. Grabbing a pillow, he puts it under my arm and fusses with it until he deems it perfect. Finally satisfied, he steps back. “Nice view,” he says.
“Why thank you, Blue. Although, I have to say you’re not seeing me at my best.”
“Idiot,” he says almost affectionately and nods at the window. “I meant out there.”
I look past him at the perfect view we have of Clifford’s Tower. “Lovely,” I say disinterestedly. “I think I’m more happy about the fact that you’ve booked us into a modern hotel. At least we’ll have a night off from ghosts tonight.”
He turns on the TV and starts running through the channels. “I wouldn’t be so quick to relax,” he murmurs. “A ghost coach and horses has been spotted here at midnight.”
“Oh great.” I sigh. “With my luck, one of the horses will kick me in the fucking head.”
He chuckles and, giving up on the TV, he places the remote carefully by my hand. “You’re in a whole box of half-empty glasses sort of mood today, aren’t you?” he says, toeing off his shoes and climbing onto the bed beside me.
I raise my good arm and try not to get too giddy about the fact that he instantly curls into my side and lays his head on my chest with a happy-sounding sigh. Something has changed between us since our talk this morning, and it feels real and right. I tighten my hold and kiss the top of his head, inhaling the familiar scent of his shampoo.
“You seem happy?” I say softly.
His wide mouth tilts at the corner. “I am. I finally listened to my answerphone messages.”
I stare at him uncomprehendingly and then realisation floods in at the memory of my rambling message before the accident.
I rush into speech. “Can’t you find anything?” I ask, nodding at the TV. My voice is slightly too high in my agitation.
He stares at me for a long second and then obviously decides to let it go. “Nah, I’ll read for a bit.”
When he was staying at the house, I’d noticed he had little interest in the TV, probably due to all his years living without one. He’d watched one episode of EastEnders in horrified silence before pronouncing that he’d rather live in the squat than watch another. When he’s still, which doesn’t happen a lot, he prefers to read.
The life he’s led has given him strange holes in his cultural references. He knows virtually nothing about children’s television, but more than most twenty-four-year-olds ever will about the Carry On films. Like a magpie, he’s picked up bits and pieces of things from wherever he’s landed or lived.
He does, however, love music. He and Will seem to have been to hundreds of concerts. Apparently, one of their friends is a roadie. Consequently, Blue has an encyclopaedic knowledge of music and his tastes are wide-ranging, picked up from a life of moving from place to place, meeting new people all the time and absorbing their likes and dislikes.
I switch the TV off and we both lie there for a second. It’s lovely. The mattress is firm, the air smells of furniture polish, and Blue’s body is warm against mine.
“This is lovely,” I say slowly. “God, I don’t know why I’m so bloody tired.”
“You fell downstairs, had a head injury, and broke your arm. Not to mention the last few weeks of interrupted sleep. The miracle is that you’ve not fallen asleep while crossing the road. Go to sleep.”
I si
gh and fidget. “I don’t think I can. I’m too tired, if you know what I mean, and I hurt all over.”
Blue comes up on one elbow and gives me a slow smile that instantly wakes me up.
“What? Why are you smiling as if my pain pleases you?” I say warily. “What sort of monster are you?”
He reaches out, and I watch in a stunned silence as he lowers his hand and lays it just above my cock which immediately stiffens.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
I groan. “If it’s what I think it is, then oh my God, yes.”
I don’t have the slightest inclination to stop this now. He’s an adult, and I think I’ve finally accepted that he’s attracted to me and wants this. Maybe that bang on the head shook some sense into me, or both of us.
He chuckles and slides his hand inside my boxers, bringing out my dick and scrambling all my thoughts.
“Shit,” I whisper fervently as his warm hand surrounds my cock.
He winks at me. “I read once that giving someone an orgasm takes their mind off their pain.”
“Oh fuck.”
He wriggles down the bed and his hot breath washes over my dick.
“I’m so glad you pursued an alternative education,” I babble. “The English curriculum would never have covered that.”
“Shame on the British education system.” He’s still laughing when he takes my cock into his mouth, and the vibrations wash over the sensitive flesh.
My groan is loud in the quiet room. He looks up at me, and it’s so fucking hot to see those wolf eyes studying me with his full lips stretched around my cock.
He pulls off and, with capable hands, strips off my boxers and manoeuvres them down my legs before throwing them off the side of the bed. While he’s busy doing this, I gingerly take off my T-shirt, accompanied by a lot of wincing.
“Careful,” he chides. “If I do this, you have to stay absolutely still. I’ll do my thing and you just watch your head.”
“I’ll watch the top one. You focus on the little head in front of you,” I advise.
He laughs, and then leans forward and licks up and down the length of my dick, making it sloppy before pulling back and blowing cool air across the sensitive skin. I can’t help the arch of my spine as I push my cock towards him, but I groan at the sharp pain that follows.