“How did you know Balthazar was in a coma? How did you know he was dying in the first place?”
Stirring, he shifted a bit on the bed in an attempt to sit up, but I placed a flat palm to his muscled chest, urging him to stay put. “There’s something to be said for all the hullabaloo about twins, Dove. How they’re intertwined in a spiritual way. I’d never in my life felt it until I saw him that first time, when he came and attempted to steal everything from you. Since then, we’ve been…connected. That’s the only way I can describe it.” His handsome face grew pained when he spoke the words, the deep grooves on either side of his mouth deepening, making me begin another protest.
I was terrified he’d slip away again if we didn’t do everything in our power to keep this body safe. “Okay. No more. All this can wait until later. You need to rest, Win.”
“No,” he said, this time a little stronger than the last. “I fear I may do quite a bit of resting as I adjust to this…to my brother’s body, but truly, I feel quite well for someone who has a fractured skull and was in a coma on, I’m assuming, life support. Is that what all the tubes are about?” He held up one half lying on his chest.
“Yes, and when the night nurses come to check on you, we’re in deep dung, buddy. How can we explain yanking a tube from your throat?”
“I’m a spy…an ex-spy, that is. I’ll figure it out. Now, I know you have more questions about where I’ve been since we were arguing over the menu for Thanksgiving. I saw you, Stephania. I watched as you looked for me, as you suffered. I can’t bear that you suffered.”
My heart skipped several beats when I remembered how dreadful that feeling had been, but I swallowed the memory of that agonizing fear.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed back the hollow emotion and focused on Win’s request. “Where did you go after you disappeared?”
With the soft light above the bed showcasing his face, Win appeared almost driven to talk about his experience. “When I found out Balthazar’s life hung in the balance, I plane hopped—”
My gasp was sharp, but he squeezed my hand with his warm one to reassure me. “I know how dangerous that sounds, but is it any more dangerous than chasing a Libyan spy whilst hanging from a helicopter over the Indian Ocean? I think not.”
I was almost breathless, yet somehow I managed to find a retort. “Chasing a Libyan spy isn’t quite the same as risking your soul, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom.”
He grinned, and heaven save me, it was devastatingly handsome. “Ah, but alas, here I am, yes? Now, pipe down, mini-spy and let me explain.”
I made a face at him and rolled my eyes and suddenly, it was just like old times. “Do carry on, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“Where was I?”
“Risking your soul by plane hopping, you nutter.”
He chuckled, deep and husky. “Yes. I plane hopped against your wishes, but I had a gut feeling, Stephania. Much like you, it’s something I never ignore. Regardless, knowing Balthazar was on death’s door made the risk worth taking. It was my one shot to come back here with little to no repercussions. My twin had no family to speak of, no ties to anyone.”
“The body-hopping code?” I asked.
Win swallowed, his Adam’s apple working the length of his strong neck. “Yes. I had a strict code, and I stuck to that code. Anyway, I knew he was in distress due to our connection. I knew Balthazar was essentially brain dead, and that meant the doctors would decide to take him off life support. I also knew it wouldn’t be long. So I made the leap, and while I waited out Balthazar’s fate, I hid from plane to plane, watching and waiting.”
“So you really could see us?”
Now he reached out a hand and cupped my chin, running his thumb over my lower lip. “I could. I could see you, Dove. All I could see was you.”
Which meant he saw me melt down. He saw me begging Baba to help me find him.
I fought to speak, to explain that terrible, horrible moment when I was convinced I’d never see him again, but he pressed a finger against my lips.
“No, Stephania. No explanation required. Had it been you, I can’t promise I wouldn’t have reacted the same way—done the very same things.”
I snorted a watery snort of sarcasm. “Right. International Man of Mystery has snotty, tear-filled breakdown. News at eleven. Not.”
His grip on my chin grew firmer, and his next words were fierce. “Please don’t dismiss this—don’t dismiss what you did. You were afraid. I was unable to ease your fears. It was dreadful, not only to be the cause of your terror, but to be incapable of soothing you. I didn’t know how much longer I could wait for Balthazar’s soul to be free from his body before I bloody cracked.”
His husky words had so many emotions racing through me, leaving me hot and cold and exhilarated and a little frightened, that I had to redirect—to deflect because the intensity threatened to knock the wind out of me.
“So you were the one who sent me the messages? Because listen here, buddy, if you were in charge of communications at MI6, I bet you didn’t get any promotions. I mean, look for bath?”
His look of concern turned to laughter. “Still as funny as ever, Stephania.” Then he cleared his throat. “No. I wasn’t doing the actual physical communicating. Other souls were doing it in my stead at my direction. Hence the sheer chaos and confusion.”
“Other souls?”
“Some too nefarious to mention,” he said dryly, making it sound as though that were a conversation for another day.
I gasped, my tired, burning eyes going wide. “You were on Plane Eleven, weren’t you? Oh, Win, I could kill you!”
“Well, that’s already been done, hasn’t it?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You save the jokey-jokes, mister. If you weren’t in such rough shape, I’d clock you one. Do you have any idea how dangerous Plane Eleven is?”
“But look where it brought me, Stephania. It brought me here—to you. If the messages were a little rough—”
“A little rough? I repeat, look for bath?” I squealed in outrage.
“Is it my fault Louie Lamont from the infamous Lamont mob family can’t spell? He forgot the L in Balthazar and lost sight of our goal halfway through the task of writing the bloody message. He’s utterly impossible to contain.”
I stopped cold and gave him a blank stare. “Wait. You mean Louie Lamont…the mobster-from-the-nineteen-twenties Louie Lamont? Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he drawled. “Anyway, they were disjointed because they had to be done on the sly, so as not to send out a disturbance in the force. But the cast of characters, whom I shall forever be indebted to, weren’t exactly ideal. I didn’t handpick them, Stephania. I simply latched on to whomever would listen and help me get to you.”
But all I heard were the words “disturbance in the force.” Now this I understood from my days as a witch. “This disturbance… You mean the keepers of the realms, don’t you? The parties responsible for keeping errant souls in line while they choose whether or not to cross?”
“Yes, those. Quite the lot, those errant souls. Most of them terrified to leave the plane due to their earthly misdeeds, for fear what awaits them is less than exemplary on the other side.”
I had to close my eyes and take deep breaths. If he had any idea how dangerous this crazy idea had been…
“There, there,” he soothed. “Don’t fret. I know how dangerous it was, Dove. I know I risked memory loss, among other trying issues. It’s why I didn’t tell you my plan. Neither here nor there, now.”
“So I’m guessing you couldn’t put these spirits in touch with Arkady, so he could pass things on to me the way you do when we do a reading?”
“Correct. They’re chained to their appointed planes until they decide.”
“Unlike you, Plane Hopper,” I teased, adjusting to the enormity of what he’d done.
He closed his eyes again and hunkered down under the sterile blankets with a smug grin. “Unlike me, their risks aren’t worth the rewards. Mine was.”
/> Sitting up, I brushed my hands together and tucked the blanket under his chin. “Okay, enough for now. You need to rest this new body of yours. It won’t work the way yours did, and I feel a big adjustment coming on.” Boy, if he only knew how weird this was going to be.
“But don’t you want to know about the clues I sent you? Come, Stephania. You know you do, and I promise you. I’m fine. Wonderful, in fact.”
Of course I did, but I wanted him well more.
He ran a finger down the tip of my nose. “Stephania? Please, carry on.”
At his urging, I decided to go along with him until I saw signs of real strain or we were busted by the nurses. “Okay, I managed to figure out a couple of them, like the postcard. But the pizza? Whew boy, that one really had me going. You had someone order me a deep-dish pizza because Balthazar was in Chicago, right?”
“Wrong,” he said flatly. “You needed to nourish yourself, Stephania. You hadn’t eaten all day, for pity’s sake, and I know pizza is one of your favorites. Gerta was happy to help me see you fed.”
I frowned. “Gerta?”
“The spirit who called in the order to Petey’s and pretended to be you, of course. It wasn’t originally going to be a clue. That was the lovely Gerta’s idea, and you have to admit, sending you a deep-dish pizza to represent Chicago was rather clever.”
“So spirits have cell phones these days?”
“Not exactly,” he said on a husky chuckle, the one that always made me smile. “Though, it would seem they can borrow one here on Earth.”
I was so disappointed in myself for not catching on sooner, I could scream. “I can’t believe I missed that. It went right over my head. But then, I missed plenty. Except for the Vivaldi reference. That one was easy. Oh, and by the way, your friend with the postcard? He almost owed me an Hermes scarf—vintage. It was this close to totally ruined.”
Win winced and gave me a sheepish grin. “Ah, yes. Moe. I’m sorry he was so passionate, not to mention dramatic. I mean, really, ‘save him’? That was going just a little too far, in my opinion. I didn’t need saving…or I didn’t think I did. I needed you to know what I was up to.”
“Passionate? Is that what we’re calling what he did to the store? All that just to show me a postcard? Well, let me tell you, Passionate Moe tore the place up, but to his credit, he did put everything back where it belonged.”
Win closed his eyes and grinned. “As I soon found, he can be very high-strung when he’s making a point. Every contact I made was a roll of the dice, Dove. Every bloody one.”
“What about the mustache? Who drew the mustache on fake Win’s picture?”
His inhale was deep and sharp. “That was Adam, taunting you, my dove. I’ll give you this, he’s a worthy foe. I don’t know how he found out about Balthazar or how he’s able to perform the feats of magic he’s capable of, but as I watched you battle him, I’d never felt so helpless in all my life.”
“It’s over now,” I whispered, running my palm over his chest. I didn’t want talk of Adam to taint our reunion. “I don’t know if it’ll always be over, but it is for now. I’m more interested in this rumor about you crossing over. What was that about?”
Now his lips went thin. “Largely just that. A rumor. I did go into a light of sorts, one that leaves a vaporous trail when I jumped from Plane Limbo, this much is true, but as you well know, the spirits are easily confused.”
That explained our broken tether. He’d broken it by jumping to another plane.
“I really thought you’d crossed. It was the only logical explanation,” I whispered.
“How could you think I’d ever leave you without saying goodbye, Stephania?” Brushing his lips over my knuckles, he whispered, “That will never happen.”
My cheeks went red and hot again, and my stomach did a backflip off the balance beam. But now it was time to get down to the nitty gritty—the meat of this whole incredible, insane journey.
“And Balthazar? His soul?” I asked softly. I didn’t begrudge Win his brother’s body if his time here on Earth was truly up, believe me. I only wish they could have made amends before this happened.
Win paused a moment, his muscular chest expanding as he inhaled. “Damaged beyond repair, Dove. Yet, as we passed one another in the ethereal corridors, moments before I wedged my way into his body, I sensed in him a peace he’s never known. And if consent can be given when one takes possession of someone else’s being, I believe he gave me his.”
A tear threatened to escape my eye. I didn’t think I had any left, I’d cried so many, but as a child, Balthazar hadn’t been given a shot the way Win had. I mourned for what could have been, and I know Win did, too.
Still, I shook it off with the intent to move forward. “All right, Body Surfer, enough’s enough. You need rest. Not to mention, I’m going to be banned from this hospital until kingdom come when the nurses come in here and see you’ve somehow yanked all your tubes out with a strange woman by your bed. I’m not sure busted is a strong enough word for what we’ll be.”
His chuckle tickled my ears. “What day is it anyway, Dove? I seem to have lost track.”
Looking out the window, the lights from the parking lot below showcasing the snow, I caught my breath when I remembered. It was the most appropriate of day of all. “It’s almost Thanksgiving, Win.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, letting his eyes slide closed. “And I am deeply thankful.”
“Me, too,” I whispered, my voice shaky. Me, too.
“But I’ll admit to some disappointment at missing that lovely feast we planned,” he groused.
I smiled in sympathy, patting his chest. “I’m sorry we’re going to miss the big feast you planned. But I promise, this Christmas will be the best one ever. You can have as much snobby food as you like. Squicky liver paste and all. You won’t hear me complain once.” Never, ever again.
But Win mocked an exaggerated sigh. “You must be so sad to have missed out on your Cheez Whiz and cardboard crackers, eh? It was the last thing I heard you twittering about before I had to make the leap. I’m sorry it was so sudden, Stephania.”
“Don’t be sorry. Now, open your eyes and look at me, please.” When he did, I grinned down at him in impish delight, pressing his hand to my cheek. “You do know where we are, don’t you?”
He gave me an almost startled look. “In a hospital in Chicago. How quickly we forget the deep-dish pizza.”
“Uh-huh. We’re in Chicago. Home of the Cubs and, indeed, deep-dish pizza, but do you know what Chicago is also home to?”
Now he gave me a hesitant look, his response dry. “Do tell.”
I gave him another flirty smile. “The factory where they make Cheez Whiz, of course. Guess what we’re having for Thanksgiving dinner, Spy Guy!”
He groaned long and loud before he burst out laughing, the deep vibration of his chuckle filling my ears.
I began to rise, hoping to sneak out before we got caught, but there was one more thing I had to do. Cradling his face, I pressed my nose to his. “Okay, Spy Guy, I have to skedaddle before we start World War III. I need a shower, a change of clothes and a way to pay for it all, because Baba didn’t send me with my purse, that dastardly woman. But before I go, I have to tell you something.”
Win latched onto my wrists, his warm blue eyes scanning mine. “What’s that, Dove?”
I took a deep, shaky breath. I had a promise to myself to keep, and I was going to keep it with no expectations from the reciprocating party.
I’d waited a long time to share my heart, and I’d almost lost the chance entirely. I don’t ever want to feel so hollow and alone again.
“I love you, Crispin Alistair Winterbottom—even in someone else’s body,” I whispered, my eyes welling with hot tears. “I don’t know what that means, now that you’re no longer an afterlife away. I don’t know what will happen from here, but I wanted you to know how I feel so you’ll never have to wonder. No matter how many planes you hop.”
He
narrowed his eyes playfully and dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You do know, you will never—not even with me as a passenger—drive my Aston Martin. Not even if you tell me you love me as a ploy to get your dainty hands on my beautiful car.”
My head popped up as I gazed down at his face—his handsome, perfect, chiseled face—and giggled. “You suck.”
His chuckle was deep and rumbling as his blue-blue eyes gazed into mine. “Will I still suck if I tell you I love you, too?”
I grinned at him, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Maybe not as much. Now about that Aston Martin. Surely we can negotiate?”
Epilogue
A Few Days Later…
“So is Sleeping Beauty still getting his Z’s on?” Bel asked as I sat at the kitchen table and watched fat flakes of snow swirl over Puget Sound.
“He is,” I answered, taking a sip of my coffee and sighing with happiness at the very unusual but very welcome snow, and right at the beginning of the Christmas season, too.
Win had hardly been awake since we’d brought him home a few days ago, but his body—or Balthazar’s body—had been through a trauma, and it would take time to heal. Time that should have been spent in the hospital under the care of trained medical professionals, but Win wouldn’t hear of it.
No, he’d had Belfry on the phone and, in a matter of an hour, hired someone to not only transport him back here, but a nurse to care for him while he recuperated.
Same old Win, just here on Earth instead of upstairs in the afterlife.
The doctors had dubbed him a medical miracle, and as we sat and listened to them talk about future therapy and fine motor skills, and give him a good lecture on pulling his tubes out, we secretly smiled over their heads at one another when they told us how lucky we were.
If they only knew…
Apparently, Balthazar had been dropped at the ER by an anonymous source; his skull fractured, his brain swelling, and not expected to live. No one knew what happened to him, but I’d lay bets Win will want to investigate once he’s up and about.
Witch Way Did He Go? Page 14