Why was he back?
And that brought me to the most important question of all. What did it mean if it all was true?
If I was that Rebecca—an idea that still seemed ridiculous—was Alastor back because of me like he said? And what did he mean by that?
As I stepped through the gate of Cedar Hill Cemetery, I knew none of this changed anything. I couldn’t tell anyone about this. I could scarcely accept the idea myself; anyone that I told about this would have me in a straitjacket by dinnertime.
I couldn’t do anything, not really. Besides, if this spirit was here to harm me in some way, he had done nothing evil or sinister yet. Actually, he seemed to be trying to save me at the quarry. If he wanted to harm me, why wouldn’t he have just let me drown?
I didn’t know what I was doing. One minute I’m walking across grassy paths and the next I was staring down at a headstone.
ALASTOR SINCLAIR
1840-1878
The stone was really there, gray and mossy, sticking up out of the ground like a bony knuckle. I read the name aloud, noticing the way the afternoon became silent as if even the birds above were waiting to see what I would do.
I was trying to comprehend the fact that right under my feet was the physical body of the ghost. He wasn’t part of my imagination. I could read his name. If I dug down in the earth, I could touch his bones.
That other Rebecca was not buried next to him and I didn’t seek her out. Me or not, I had no desire to see her grave.
Reading his name again, I knew that none of it mattered. If I was that Rebecca, I obviously couldn’t escape him. Because when I thought of the spirit, of his handsome face, his luminous eyes, the very feeling of his presence, I wanted nothing more than to contact him again. I reached my hand out and touched the name with my fingertip.
I turned and walked out of the cemetery with my mind made up. I wouldn’t be afraid of him anymore. After all, he wasn’t a nameless spirit anymore. He had a history and for whatever reason I was now part of it.
The house was squatting behind the oaks when I walked up. The afternoon was fading a twilight was creeping in from the shadows of the yard. I heard the chirping of crickets welcoming me home as I stepped up on the front porch and went through the front door.
Inside, the house was dim in the fading day. The only light came from the living room and poured out into the hall. I stepped through the doorway and there was Dad asleep on the couch as the television echoed the day’s events across the world.
I left him sleeping there with a peaceful half smile on his face, perhaps he was even dreaming of my mother. It seemed cruel to wake him.
As I was walking out of the living room, my hand touched the door casing and I stopped. I looked at the carved frame, coated in many layers of paint. Was this something Alastor touched at one time?
It was suddenly very crucial I touch something he had touched. I had to know if I would be able to feel it when it happened. I wanted to feel some sort of connection to him, but all I felt was the carved moldings under my fingertips.
I left the living room then crossed to the other side of the house, running my fingers along the walls as I walked. I got to the end of the hall and stepped inside the office. It was dark and quiet in there with unpacked boxes still stacked about. I shut the door behind me and turned on the lamps on either side of the desk.
There it was, the spot on the floor that gave me that electrical jolt of visions that first day I came here. I knelt beside it, knowing now that the white boards were from where his blood had stained the floor and people had tried to scrub it away over the years.
I reached a tentative finger toward that spot. I vowed that I would not pull away, no matter how terrifying the images were.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, and placed my hand flat on the faded floor.
There was a sickening tilt and spin to the world. I was falling and then I was spinning again. I felt the weight of long skirts around my legs even as I knew I was kneeling on the wood floor. Voices came from everywhere, crowding around me. These voices spoke to slow at first, and then so quickly that I couldn’t understand what was being said. Surrounding all of this was a prism-like light that blotted out everything.
I was falling down again and the prism became the crystal wine glass some version of me was holding as my new husband toasted me and over the rim of the glass, Alastor’s blue eyes held me captive. How could I deny the truth in this?
Again there was that nauseating spinning and Alastor became nothing more than a puff of smoke. I was then standing at my bedroom window; I felt his lips on my neck as his fingers pushed my long hair aside.
“I love you my darling.”
I was falling again, spinning until I stood at the door to the office; I could almost see that other me there in a long white nightgown with my hair flowing down my back. Alastor was at the desk, his clothes were rumpled and his hair was mussed as if he had just run his hands through it. His beautiful blue eyes were foggy and bloodshot as he looked up at me.
I saw the gun then, a bulky black thing in my pale white hand. I was raising it up, there was a flash of light, a cloud of smoke, and then Alastor’s face contorted in pain. He fell then, the blood from his chest spilling out over the floor.
“My Becca,”He grimaced as he lay dying. “Forgive me.”
I fell backwards, immediately back in the here and now. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and my vision was blurry with unshed tears.
Dear God, what have I done?
Dad was calling me for dinner, his voice echoing down the hall. I didn’t want him to find me like this. Wiping my tears away, I went out to join him.
He met me in the hall with a cheery, but sleepy smile. “Where have you been hiding?”
“I just got back.”
“Oh,” Dad said with a stretch and a yawn. “Did you get your outline done?”
“Yep.” I said and turned him back toward the kitchen. “I got it all done.”
We ate in silence. I kept going over the articles in my head. Was I that Rebecca? If so, I killed Alastor. Why would I do that? The two people in the photograph seemed so happy, what happened?
I had barely eaten more than two bites when I excused myself claiming I was tired and wanted to lie down. Of course, such a logical explanation sent Dad into an immediate panic.
“You okay?” Dad asked with anxiety all over his face again.
“I’m just tired.” I lied, smiling to reassure him just like my mother used to.
“Okay, get some rest.” Dad agreed with a smile. “By the way, Billie and Ally both called for you earlier. You may want to give them a call.”
“I’m so tired. I think I’ll just wait and talk to them tomorrow, I don’t want to be on the phone all night.”
He smiled, “Okay, see you in the morning.”
Once I was safe in my room, I closed the door and locked it behind me. Within just a few minutes, I heard the television in the living room again and I knew that Dad believed my flimsy excuse. I was glad he was so easy to deceive. I hated to make him worry.
I turned back to my empty room and stared up at the plaster ceiling. I didn’t know how this was supposed to work exactly.
“Are you there?” I called into the emptiness. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
I stepped away from the door and listened, straining to hear anything that meant he was near. As I stood there, I felt a change in the air as it became slightly heavy, like the air just before a storm.
He was there. I could feel him swirling and gathering overhead even though I couldn’t see him. I closed my eyes, trying to hone in and make him materialize by my own sheer will.
“Alastor,” I called him by name. “I know you’re here.”
From within my room came a gentle wind from above, stretching out wide as it came down from walls. It moved across the floor to my feet and then circled around me as it rose, caressing my face and lifting my hair.
&nbs
p; “So now you know,” said the voice on the wind.
“Yes.” I whispered, breathless as what seemed like particles of dust gathered together and began to take shape. I fought the urge to run away as I felt him growing stronger. “Why are you here?”
He became more solid, but flickered like a candle. “I am here because of you.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but in a fraction of a second I decided it didn’t matter. That question was better left unanswered, and what would it matter what the answer was. It wouldn’t change anything.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, motioning wide with my hands.
“Since I first knew of you.” He replied without hesitation and turned those luminous eyes on me.
“When was that?”
He held me with his unwavering gaze, a smirk playing across his full lips. “I don’t know.”
This was getting me nowhere. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I kept losing my train of thought. His face was so wistful and his eyes wouldn’t release me.
“Are there other ghosts here?” I finally stammered, trying to take him in without getting distracted by his handsome face. “Other spirits watching me?”
“No.” He answered simply, shifting and flickering as he moved closer.
“What’s it like to be dead?” I asked, feeling so guilty.
“It is nothing.”
I watched his face, the way that the illusions of him was made up of life, my heart ached at the beautiful man he must have been.
“Am I that Rebecca?”
“You will always be my Becca.”
“Were we happy?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“For a while,” he whispered with a smile. “I made many mistakes.”
Of course he would regret marrying Rebecca. How could he not?
“Did you love me?”
He moved even closer, only inches away now, and becoming even more solid. His eyes were practically glowing as they looked into mine with such intensity I squirmed from foot to foot. His voice came from nothing and caressed my ears, “I have loved you in life and beyond.”
My heart ached with those words. He moved around me, slowly and deliberately, as if he were really walking.
“May I ask a favor of you?” He asked as he stepped behind me.
How could I refuse him anything? I agreed immediately. “Of course.”
“Close your eyes.”
I did as he commanded. I felt the room growing colder as if he were inhaling a great intake of air. I held my breath as I felt him gathering and growing stronger behind me. I told myself again that I wasn’t afraid of him.
Chapter 7
Alastor was amazing in solid form. I just couldn’t get accustomed to the sight of him even though I had been staring at him for hours.
He was breathtaking to look at, his skin so detailed I could almost make out a faint stubble on his cheek and all about him clung the faint scent of the outdoors, tinged with a slight aroma of honeysuckle. He was lying beside me, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal lean, but muscular arms. Now and then I would catch a glimpse of his bare chest through the open collar of his shirt.
It was strange, but just the sight of that small bit of naked flesh made me blush. I tried not to look, but every time I glanced over my blood would burn at the teasing glimpse of phantom skin.
His lips would twitch into a smile every so often, the action making him even more handsome. I wondered what it was exactly that would make a ghost smile. When I asked, he only smiled wider and confessed that he never thought this day would come.
I was getting so sleepy. Head splitting yawns kept overtaking me, but I stayed sitting up in bed with him stretched out beside me just like a real person.
It was one thing to have him appear in my room or speak to me in his ghostly voice, but that was nothing compared to the delicious thrill of having him so close.
He still seemed too good to be true, too perfect and beautiful to really be there. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.
Hesitantly, so afraid he would fade again into the shadows, I reached my hand out to touch his.
“Don’t!” He commanded and pulled away. The doors to my bathroom shut with enough force to rattle them on their hinges.
I drew back at his reprimand. His voice was so harsh. I felt it vibrate through me. I glanced back at his face. He was watching me with extreme intensity. I fought the urge to run away from him. After all, where could I hide that he couldn’t find me?
Pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them, I tried not to focus on the sting of his rebuff.
“Why not?” I demanded.
Alastor held my gaze, but his eyes became dark and sad. “Because what you see is not real. It takes so much strength to be this way for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m here with you, but this image of me is just that—Only an image, an illusion. I don’t know what would happen if you tried to touch me.”
I turned over what he said in my mind. A frustrated sigh escaped my lips.
“What is it?” He asked in a whisper as if being careful not to frighten me again.
“I can’t even touch you,” I answered, more than a little surprised by the note of emotion cracking in my voice.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered in a low and soothing tone.
“I know it’s stupid,” I apologized. “It’s just frustrating that we can’t even touch.”
A smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips. “Is that what you want?”
I looked down at his perfect face with his teasing blue eyes. Suddenly, I wanted very much just to be able to touch his hand.
“Yes,” I confessed. “I would like that.”
His smile grew wider, “Then I shall try to do as you wish.”
Even though I was watching him, and he never moved an inch, I suddenly felt invisible fingers traveling down my neck and arms. I jumped and looked around, but there was nothing visibly touching me. I felt a scream rising in my throat as the sensation died away.
Before I could recover, I felt the world shift and suddenly I was back in time and standing at the window. I was looking down and watching for Alastor to come home. I could feel the wetness on my cheeks and remembered thinking back then that I had cried so many tears waiting for him to come home.
The image spun around and was replaced by Alastor and I arguing on the staircase. He was moving toward the door and I was following him with my skirts gathered into my hands. I felt myself calling after him, but there was no sound. He turned back to me once he reached the door and ordered me to stop my hysterics. Alastor walked out the door and it slammed behind him. A coldness swept over me and my tears ceased at that very moment.
I was spinning again, this time further back, to me in Alastor’s arms. I closed my eyes as he reached out his hand and touched my face. I knew that touch, it brought me back to my room where Alastor the spirit was with me.
“I’m sorry.” Alastor said without changing expression. “I was trying to give you what you wanted.”
I took a few deep breaths and tried to slow my pounding heart, “It just startled me. I remembered so much about us all at once. It was a little overwhelming.”
He looked at me intently, “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Do you trust me?”
Did I trust him?
“Yes.” I answered without hesitation.
The invisible fingers were back again, caressing my hair, my face . There was no warmth to the touches, just a constant tingling sensation over my skin. I was watching him, but he never moved, even as unseen hands lifted strands of my hair.
“I have waited for you for so long.” He said with serious eyes.
I didn’t know how to respond to that, but a part of me loved hearing it. I allowed him to keep his ghostly fingers in my hair, not moving, even as he rose up on one elbow.
“Are you still not afraid?” He
asked, suddenly seeming just as unsure as I was.
“I am afraid,” I confessed. “But not of you.”
He leaned closer to me. If he were an actual living person, I would have been able to feel his breath on my shoulder. The tingling sensations were still moving over my body, but I was unable to move. His luminous blue eyes held me there.
“Then what are you afraid of?” He whispered.
Spiritus, a Paranormal Romance (Spiritus Series, Book #1) Page 9