Gothic Heat

by Portia Da Costa

  'It's just you and me, bitch,' he growled, closing his eyes tight and seeing a green-eyed vision of hate behind his lids. 'Just you and me, cunt, and you're going down ... You're going down. You're going down!'

  Still panting, still sweating, Paula hauled herself upright and turned to Rafe, then blanched in horror.

  Even so soon after their hot, furious coupling, he was as white as a sheet, his face working furiously and his teeth clenched as he fought with what had been inside her. Perspiration slid down his cheek and pooled in the hollow of his throat. The battle was titanic, far harder than it had ever been for her. She grabbed his hand, but he shook her off with a rough, frantic jerk.

  'No, love! Get away from me now. Please stay clear. Please stay safe!'

  This is what it feels like when your heart starts breaking, thought Paula, sliding off the table then staggering back. In a swift movement, Oren enveloped her in a soft blanket, then, looking at her only briefly but worriedly, he surged forwards and joined Michiko and Balthazar around her beloved. Paula clapped her hand over her mouth, holding in a cry of anguish. They had work to do. They couldn't worry about her right now.

  Rafe began to writhe and shout, flinging out incoherent blasphemous growls. He jack-knifed upright and whipped back his hand to aim a blow at Michiko. But before he could land it, Oren and Balthazar, enormous men both, had thrown their weight on him and manhandled him back down onto the table. With hands that were swift and deft and far, far stronger than they looked, Michiko secured him with conveniently placed leather straps, almost flying around the table, sure-footed on her towering geisha clogs, even though the stone flags of the chapel floor were uneven.

  'I might have known it was you!' bellowed Isidora, deforming Rafe's vocal cords into an approximation of her own shrill angry tones. 'Von Kastel's whore! Treacherous bitch, you were always jealous of me, weren't you, you cunt?'

  It's like The Exorcist, thought Paula, terrified.

  And suddenly it was even more like that famous terrifying film.

  Michiko impassively ignored yet another torrent of obscene abuse and, as she returned to the lectern and began another soft, clear chant from the pages of the grimoire, the temperature in the chapel plummeted in an instant. Paula clutched the blanket around herself as gooseflesh rose painfully on her body, and her breath and that of the others grew misty. The only hot things in the entire space were the twin burning green orbs of Rafe/ Isidora's eyes, and the marker on his belly that was glowing red now, like a fresh brand.

  'No! No! No!'

  Paula wasn't sure whether it was she who'd shouted or the evil creature still trapped inside her shackled lover. But Michiko suddenly said 'Yes' in English then returned seamlessly to her arcane and rhythmic chant. Rafe began to struggle even harder, making the table creak and groan, and Paula's eyes widened when she realised the cause of the wildly renewed struggling.

  Balthazar was priming a hypodermic, Oren holding a thick black cushion in both hands.

  The chill around the table seemed to increase exponentially and the roar of rage that rose from it made what was left of the windows rattle and shatter. Undeterred, Balthazar plunged the needle directly into Rafe's jugular. As he stepped back, Oren moved forwards with his innocuous-looking but still deadly cushion.

  Paula did cry out now, but the sounds that echoed in her own ears were distorted and drawn out as if time were running at half speed.

  Rafe arched and jerked on the table, kicking and struggling for a few moments until the drug and the denial of oxygen took him. As his body went slack and he lay motionless, Oren still kept the cushion firmly in place.

  All was silent. All was strange. Paula felt on the verge of collapse, but still stayed upright, her heart screaming, her higher mental functions almost as blank as Rafe's now were.

  For what seemed eternity, the silence stretched on, but then, faintly at first and then gradually louder and louder, an odd, buzzing static roar of a sound gathered in the chapel. As Michiko began to chant again, it seemed to centre on a spot halfway down the aisle and radiate outwards, charging the air. Paula felt a sensation of suction, although there was no physical wind at all, and her hair seemed to be starting out from her head. She gasped as a spot of vague, fuzzy blackness formed at the source of the ever-loudening sound, then seemed to grow, circling and spinning like a vortex.

  Then another sound rang out, layering itself over the strange, almost electronic drone. An agonised wail of terror and anger and despair. Paula spun towards Rafe's prone body.

  He seemed to be floating up in his restraints, as if caught in a static field, and, as Paula watched, a thick yet misty green light formed about his mouth, his eyes and ears, even his cock. Most of all it hovered over his belly, where the sigil was and, slowly at first, then faster and faster it condensed in a flickering mass.

  No! No! No!

  The silent scream echoed out and, as it did, the green light narrowed, elongated and shot away from Rafe's abdomen, streaking through the frigid air of the chapel, straight past Paula, and then disappeared into the black whirling void.

  The instant it had all passed, there was a loud pop, and Paula felt the same kind of inner-ear equalisation sensation as she would have done in an aeroplane at altitude.

  There was one second, perhaps two, of absolute calm, then the watchers around the table swung into instant, frenzied action.

  No horror movie now, but a scene from an A&E department, an operating theatre, a major accident. Only with the added extra of a chanting Japanese sorceress.

  Totally focused, Balthazar began cardio-pulmonary resuscitation, counting aloud as he pounded on Rafe's chest with the heels of his hands, his arms out straight, while Oren worked around him attaching Rafe to various monitors. Paula knew nothing of the detail of what they were doing, but the hideously flat green line on the small black screen made her want to wail and compel it to jump by pure force of will.

  More CPR. More ventilation. More CPR. More ventilation. Paula's own heart felt as if it were being crushed and twisted.

  And then...

  'Got something,' shouted out Balthazar. 'I'm going to shock him.' He slapped the paddles of a cardiac defibrillator flush against Rafe's chest. A moment later, the surgeon cried, 'Clear!' and Rafe's inert body jerked violently on the table. After the shock, Oren slid an oxygen mask over her lover's chalky-pale face.

  Mute with horror, Paula watched the procedures repeated again, then again, then again. Injections given, to no apparent effect. Her teeth were chattering with the icy cold, and she could barely think, but on some deep level she registered that the low temperature was beneficial for Rafe. Didn't cooling help slow brain damage in those who were clinically dead? That was why Michiko was chanting – to keep the chapel unnaturally chilly and give Rafe the best possible chance of a full recovery.

  'Clear!' intoned Balthazar.

  Rafe's body leapt up from the table, then settled back, lifeless.

  The surgeon listened with his stethoscope, frowning. Paula's own heart lurched as she saw him lift his shoulders in a helpless shrug and glance at Michiko.

  'No! Try again! Give him a chance!'

  Almost losing her blanket, Paula flew across the space to where Rafe lay. His skin was waxy and his lips were bluish. He looked gone, lost, extinct. She reached for him but Oren gently held her back while the defibrillator charged, and they went through the whole gruesome process of shocking Rafe all over again.

  With the same result. No rhythm. Balthazar looked at her sadly, no hope left in his weary eyes.

  Anger, crazy and irrational, boiled in Paula's chest. Forgetting her blanket altogether, she scrambled onto the table, crouched alongside Rafe and pounded wildly on his chest.

  'How dare you leave me! How dare you give up! Live, you coward, live! You owe it to me!' She thumped and thumped, barely aware that she'd shouted out loud at him. He was going to be bruised black and blue when she'd finished with him, but he had to live.

  All of sudden,
Rafe began to cough, gasp, drag in breath. Oren lifted Paula back off the table to give Balthazar room to work.

  The next few minutes were agonising as Paula watched the big surgeon give Rafe a couple more injections, listen to his heart repeatedly, take his pulse, peel up his eyelids and check his pupils. She grabbed her blanket and huddled in it, even though the moment Rafe had started coughing the ambient temperature had started to rise again. The chapel was deliriously warm now, thanks to Michiko's spells.

  Then Rafe's eyes opened naturally and, as he flexed his hand and arm, reaching, Oren released him from the straps that still held him.

  When Rafe's fingers found Paula's, they gripped tight and held on.

  'Are you all right, love?' His voice was faint and reedy, but, when he smiled, his eyes were bright and lucid. She leant over him, her tears of thankfulness dropping down onto the bare skin of his chest in between the sticky pads and wires.

  'I'm fine, you idiot, how are you?'

  'OK, I think,' he wheezed, trying to sit up, not quite achieving it, before having Oren let him gently back down.

  Rafe blinked, shook his head, reached up and rubbed his face. Caught by the action, Paula's eyes widened. Good grief, what had happened?

  Rafe no longer had a few grey-haired streaks at his temples. His entire head of hair had turned white in the space of a few minutes. Although no one but she seemed to have noticed yet.

  'Yeah, I'm fine ...' His voice was still thin, but already sounded stronger. 'I think I've got all my marbles still. And no mental lodgers as far as I can tell.'

  'Thank God for that!' She flung herself over him, wound her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. He smelt good, warm, real. As his arms came around her, she sobbed with happiness and breathed him in, savouring the simple fact he was alive, and the two of them were just two now.

  The soft sound of clapping broke them apart and, as Paula drew back and Rafe sat up shakily, they looked around to see Michiko, Balthazar and Oren applauding, smiles on all of their faces.

  'She's gone now. I can't sense her at all,' said the Japanese woman with satisfaction, then she reached over and tweaked down the blanket that Oren had flung over Rafe's hips while he and Balthazar had been working. The ink of his painted sigil had flaked away to a fine dust, and when she blew on it delicately it drifted away to leave his belly quite unmarked. Similarly, when Paula exposed the matching area on her own abdomen, there was nothing there, just her skin, pale and smooth.

  'All gone now, love,' whispered Rafe, inclining towards her, resting his forehead against hers. 'Just us now ... just us...' He sagged against her, and she felt him try to fight his weakness.

  'Yes, just us,' she confirmed, sliding her arms tight around him and supporting his weight. 'And you need to rest, my love. You need to rest.'

  Ah, the inner silence was lovely. Just her now and the man she loved, for as long as they'd got.

  16 Aftermath

  'How can you possibly want to shag a white-haired old ruin like me?' Rafe gasped, laughing, as he levered himself off Paula and rolled to one side, his arm still possessively across her belly.

  'Quite easily,' Paula panted back at him, her body still glowing, her sex still fluttering and alight with aftershocks. 'Because you're not an old ruin, you have the body of a buffed young stud, and your new hair is gorgeous.'

  She turned towards him, reached up and swept her fingers across his short pale hair. It was beautiful, a soft creamy white, dusted with gold, like silver-gilt. It was strange and erotic, and it had an almost alien quality that seemed to turn her on all over again.

  But that didn't surprise her. In the three days since the expulsion of Isidora, her thoughts and her urges had turned constantly to sex. It was as if the sorceress had left her erotic appetite behind when she'd gone. Except instead of being dark and manipulative, it was sweet, fine, blatantly lustful and a joyous celebration of life.

  Rafe had died and come back again, and the way to affirm that seemed to make love over and over again.

  I wasn't even all that interested in sex until she moved in, thought Paula. But now I'm mad for it.

  She wasn't complaining though. She couldn't think of anything better. And if Rafe did have to go again, and sooner rather than later, she was going to give him the best possible time while he was in a fit state to enjoy it.

  And yet she still couldn't believe he was doomed. His body was marvellous, fit, full of life. He'd obviously always been a man who took care of his physical condition, and his ordeal didn't seem to have affected him other than the hair thing – and the bruises that still lingered on his chest from the CPR and her fists.

  'If you say so, love,' he said easily, watching her as she still stroked his hair compulsively. 'And I suppose this is better than just the grey bits I had before.' He grinned. 'Maybe I could dye it? I could ask Hiro. He's a hairdresser among other things. He could probably give me some advice as to what colour to go.'

  'No! I like it like this! It's glorious.'

  Rafe's arms snaked around her, pulling her closer. 'In that case it stays.' She felt his cock harden again, and it was her turn to smile. Rafe's libido had taken a revivifying jolt just the way hers had.

  Half crawling on top of him, she was reminded of the sight of him prone on that table, and a question she'd been wanting to ask sprang from her lips, finally escaping her qualms about posing it.

  'Rafe, when you were, you know, when you were "gone", was there anything there? What did you feel? Did you see a white light to go towards and all that stuff?'

  He looked up at her, his eyes clear and brown. Almost tranquil.

  'No white lights. Nothing concrete at all, really ... It's hard to describe it.' He blinked, and suddenly his eyes seemed more shiny, as if tears were forming. 'I only know I was OK. And I wasn't scared. Because you were there.' He rested his hand against her face, the tips of his fingers warm and real and alive. 'It was like a place out of time and you were already there waiting for me. Does that make sense?'

  'Yes, perfectly.' She plunged in for a kiss, her own eyes swimming. Everything she believed and wanted and loved beautifully confirmed.

  The wild sweet tide of sex was rising again, but it was love that bore her up on it. She'd found her man, and he'd found her, and whether they had months or years or decades, they were together.

  Epilogue

  Paula watched as Rafe dialled the number.

  They were sitting outside a cafe bar across from the Raven, enjoying a cappuccino in the Indian-summer sunshine. The afternoon was idyllic, they both had a day off work, and they'd spent most of the morning in bed, making love.

  But this afternoon, there was a truth to be faced, and somehow it seemed important to be out of the flat to face the news.

  It was three weeks since their strange sabbatical at Sedgewick Priory, and to Paula at least it seemed like yesterday, and yet the same time in another world. The whole interlude had been like a dream, sometimes bad, very bad, but sometimes good.

  She'd been possessed by what amounted to a demon, but she'd also found the man she loved.

  They'd stayed over a week at the Priory, and funnily enough it had turned out to be the holiday that she and Belinda and Jonathan had originally planned, only with a whole lot of delicious, unforeseen extras. An idyll of sun-kissed luxury in a gorgeous house, eating, drinking, laughing, roaming around the gorgeous park and swimming in the river. And of course, when they were alone, having ridiculous amounts of deliriously experimental sex. She still got a hot flutter every time she thought of some of the outrageous things she and Rafe had got up to, but the best thing about it was that, when the bedroom door closed, it was just the two of them. No subversive third party in her mind.

  But eventually the party had broken up. Michiko had left for London, with Hiro and Balthazar. The mechanics of that particular relationship were intriguing. Especially when it had become apparent they were all sharing the same room. And the same bed.

  Belinda and J
onathan left when she and Rafe had finally hit the road. Her friend had finally got back to normal. Belinda's eyes were hazel again and she was keeping the same hours as everyone else. Maybe it was because Isidora was finally completely gone and the natural equilibrium had normalised? Michiko seemed to think so, but Belinda had said she didn't really care as long as she was just an average woman with an average life again.

  Only Oren and his two female companions remained at Sedgewick now, holding stewardship of the beautiful house and keeping it ready for any of the party to return for a holiday.

  And now, at last, she waited for the final cloud of doubt to be resolved one way or another.

  'Time I stopped being a coward,' Rafe had said. 'It's not fair to you, and I can't keep living in limbo, not knowing how long I've got.'

  'Whatever happens, don't forget, you're stuck with me,' Paula had replied, as her lover had picked up the phone to make a hospital appointment.

  And now, here they were. Waiting for the results.

  Rafe's face was set and intent as he listened. The tension was unbearable, and the sweet balmy, late summer's day seemed to freeze as if not just their lives, but all life was on hold until the answer came. Paula catalogued every detail of his face. His fine brown eyes, his strong jaw, his sensual mouth and his dazzling hair, white gold and shining in the sun.

  The moments of waiting went on and on, and still Rafe didn't speak.

  But suddenly there were changes, and her heart flew.

  His eyes widened, a smile curved his lips, he let out the breath he'd been holding. And suddenly he was saying, 'Thank you, thank you, thank you...' into the phone.

  Paula threw herself sideways in her seat and flung her arms around him, kissing the side of his face, his cheek and his neck while he was still speaking to the doctor on the other end of the line.

  Eventually he snapped the phone shut, threw it down and kissed her. Hard. For at least a minute and laughing at the same time.

  'All clear, love! All clear,' he announced, grinning from ear to ear as they broke apart, dimly aware of all eyes in the open-air cafe being upon them. 'But the bad news is that you really are stuck with me for the duration of my three score and ten now.'