She wasn’t available. She wasn’t interested in him. She wasn’t living on the same planet as him, even when they stood next to one another.
But once they entered the cycle of life and death? Fuck it. It became less about lust and love and more about reassuring one’s self that they weren’t alone in a helpless fate.
Kisses weren’t affection. They were breaths of life and the warmth of a beating heart.
Sex wasn’t need and satisfaction. It was a desperate cling to make sure the other person was still alive.
Or at least that’s what their souls said. Once Danielle and Devon were in bed, however, the baggage came out.
For one thing, Sonall had legitimately loved Sulim after knowing her for so long. They had never made love in that life. But once the Process claimed their souls, they were more likely to fall into bed sooner rather than later. For their own sanity.
Sex felt good, of course, and neither of them were incompetent lovers when it came to the opposite sex. In Devon’s life, he had been with five women. Not too shabby for a twenty-two-year-old who had been too awkward to function until college finally arrived. Not many women lined up to screw a guy who talked to an invisible girl through most of middle school.
And while Danielle may have only been with the one man in her whole thirty years on Earth, sex with a guy was far from rocket science. Get wet. Get hard. Dick in. Dick out. Repeat until orgasm. Oh, maybe throw in a few more flourishes.
Unfortunately, they also couldn’t be more different when it came to feelings on the process. These feelings would always, always manifest during sex.
Devon had a predisposition to regressing. Often, he would reach the point where his soul and mind became one again. His memories would return. The man he once was would become the man he now knew. It never frightened him. The pain, the shock, the nauseating act of regressing was something no one volunteered for, but once it was over? Peace. Devon would soon have to live with the onus of the worst memories Sonall Gardiah experienced, but he would also have the solace of the best.
Sulim was one of the best. Even if she refused to ever, ever regress.
Her trauma was too great. The circumstances of her death led to her bottling up every single memory and shoving them so deep into the pits of her battered soul that it was impossible to regress.
So for Devon, this was a cause of celebration, of joy, of sexual pleasure and sharing it with a woman he loved.
For Danielle, this was like slamming into a brick wall and hoping it felt good.
Neither of them knew to what extent those feelings would thrive.
***
“How’s that?” Could a man know how to make the moment more awkward? “‘Cause I have no complaints, but…”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Technically, he already was.
Danielle wanted him to be quiet while they did the deed. Because Devon could either focus on conversation, or he could focus on staying hard and going for it.
Well, he knew which one he preferred…
What did Danielle prefer?
Sex. Just do it, she thought. Pausing meant they might regret it, let alone mid-coitus. And who wanted to deal with that mess? Once they got going, they might as well finish the job so they could at least say, “Hey, we tried! Too bad it wasn’t that great.”
Except it kinda was.
Devon had more skill than Danielle anticipated, and she was the kind of woman to surrender herself to the whim of sex once her partner proved competent. Who cared if her partner was a guy barely out of college? She had done worse!
Too bad neither of them counted on the spiritual ramifications smacking them halfway through.
On one hand, it was uplifting. Cleansing. One of the rare instances of pure ecstasy for the sake of it. Perhaps they would have never noticed one another had they not been in the Process. Perhaps a drunken hookup between them could have taken place, but it would have ended with disappointment and a lackluster memory. (“Remember that time I fucked a college kid? No, the male one. Yeah, I barely remember it either.” “She was hot. Great tits and a pussy to die for. Was over in two minutes. What? I was drunk!”)
Their relationship to the Void, the main thing hanging between them, was what changed everything.
When they were in this trance, anything could happen. And when both had yet to regress, it made everything more volatile.
For Devon, sharing this kind of moment with a woman he had always loved was a chance to both revel in his good fortune and to show her that side of him that said he would always be there for her, no matter how many times they were reborn. Once he sank into that forgotten sensation of making love for the sake of spiritual gratification – and the fact he had the hots for Danielle helped, of course – he was on a cloud that ascended the ranks until it surpassed number nine and created a heaven of its own.
What was better than this? It had all the soothing properties of regression without any of the fear, the turmoil, the panic and paranoia that usually came with the actual process of regression. It was a combination of the physical bliss of sex, the spiritual relief of making that connection, and the emotional balm of knowing that he could do this and make a woman as originally unattainable as Danielle feel good too.
Except, for her, the experiment was doomed to failure.
Oh, at first it was good, even Damn, this ain’t bad at all once they got going, the bed rocking and Danielle’s body opening up to his the more the seconds wore on. The kisses were intense and genuine. The way her body reacted reassured them that things could continue as is or take it to yet another level. A huge improvement over the last time she attempted sex with a man.
At first.
For all her public bravado, Danielle was ultimately the type of lover who preferred to be passive, fawned over, and worshipped like the goddess she often thought herself to be in these situations. Devon knew how to deliver, but it also left her open to some of the more toxic thoughts readily available in the back of her mind.
The ones that had been dormant for a thousand years.
No, she would not regress. That was part of the problem. The more she refused, the more those memories bubbled over until she let her guard down enough to let them power through to her conscience.
Keep them at bay. Keep them at bay. Keep them… Sex. Right. Sex was the most important thing right now. Better for Danielle to orgasm before possibly losing herself to memories she never asked to have.
So while Devon lost himself in the body and soul of another person, Danielle struggled to compromise her desire for mindless sex with the hell consuming her brain.
She could do it. Usually, her present self won out.
Usually.
Unless Devon botched the whole thing and pushed her over the edge when she was her most vulnerable.
All it took was one slip of the tongue.
“Sulim!” he cried when on the brink. Who the hell could blame him? As far as his addled mind was concerned, this woman was Sulim. She could legally go by a different name and speak a new language, but she would always at her core be that woman he once risked his life for, so she could keep her fleeting moments of happiness.
But hadn’t she told him to not call her that?
There was a reason for it, too. Even when she said it off-handedly, Danielle knew that hearing that name during sex would pull the trigger on her sanity.
What was physical ecstasy, and what was spiritual anxiety?
It wasn’t her sudden climax that startled her. It was the rush of memories unleashed from the depths of her mind.
“Go ahead and fuck me. It’s what you want, isn’t it?” The hot rush of anger, desperation, a sad inkling that this was from another life claimed Danielle the moment she came down from her orgasmic high. She couldn’t shut off the memories now that they hit her. The dam was broken, and the waves flooded her mind.
She could see, hear, and feel everything. The oppressive heat of their garbage can of a planet. The punct
ured tent erected in the middle of the jungle, the area cleared of predators and poisonous prey – not that anything could make the heat go away. Not even the portable dehumidifier and air conditioner Sonall had brought with him on their mission to retrieve one of their planet’s Relics.
The man was barely older than Devon was now. But he was bigger, stronger, and more confident. Usually.
That day, however, he looked upon Sulim with nothing but confusion in his blue eyes.
***
“Not like this. Shit, what’s come over you?”
I’m half undressed on his bedroll. Harmless iddip ants scuttle across the canopy floor as I remove one more article of clothing and toss it at my partner on the other side of his tent. He had been communicating with our home base when I entered, determined to seduce him. Not out of a desire for him, though. Out of anger.
Toward someone else.
“You want me, don’t you? You’ve been hard for me ever since you were a weakass whelp I had to make stop crying because he couldn’t stand it here. Aren’t you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted? Your ultimate prize for putting up with this life?”
He rises from his makeshift desk, a tenuous distance hanging between us even when he comes closer. “I have never thought of you as some sort of prize, Sulim. Why the hell would I think that when you were the first person nice to me on this Void forsaken planet? For fuck’s sake, you were even nice to me when Graella…”
“So just do it. Take me before it’s too late and we’re all dead.”
The only time he touches me tonight is when he places a soft hand on top of my head. I tremble, my half naked body a pitiful sight as I grab my discarded clothing and shamefully cover herself up again.
Don’t you know? Sulim’s voiced echoed in her head. That’s the life we suffer here. I’ve gotten lucky. The right people liked me, and I was spared the worst of it. Those other girls weren’t lucky. They were abused and traumatized into psychosis. It’s time for me to get my comeuppance. Might as well be him.
Whatever Sonall thought of that – and he was far from immune to the traumas that came with the life of a mercenary – he was the last one to take advantage of her in this state.
***
When Danielle finally repressed those memories again, she was sobbing as well.
“Danielle!” Devon attempted to pull her into his arms. How else did a man respond to one of the only women he truly loved crying out in terror when they were so physically and emotionally vulnerable? What had he done? “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry…”
She huddled on the far side of the bed, where she was bombarded by the scent of Alicia’s lingering shampoo. Right, right, right. They had done this. In the bed Devon once shared with a woman Danielle had loved.
How wrong was this?
“It’s okay. I’m more worried about you.”
“No, no… I’m sorry. I’m using you.”
Devon backed off. Five minutes ago, Danielle had been confident and ready to go as if they had carnally known each other for years. Now? She was a shaking mess that couldn’t uncurl from the fetal position no matter how much he coaxed her to tell her what was wrong. Until she said that, anyway.
Perhaps it was the strength of her mini-regression that brought him to the same memories once dormant in his own mind. For two seconds later, Devon remembered this woman in a very different – but not so unfamiliar – situation.
“I’m using you. Forgive me.”
He almost said her old name again. This time, he was mindful enough to stop.
“Danielle.” He held her shoulders until she finally calmed down. No time to think about cleaning up this disaster when her sanity was more important. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m terrible. All I want to do is hurt people.”
It wasn’t her speaking, was it? It was her.
“You’re not hurting me. You’re not terrible.” His body begged him to relax. His soul begged him to make this right before he lost her again. “You’re going through a lot, that’s all.”
“I was going to use you to hurt her.”
Jealousy as green as the bile shooting up his throat clouded his subconscious. “I know.”
The foggy image of that other woman danced before his eyes. No matter how much Devon tried to focus on Danielle, the presence of another ghost stood with them.
“You’re with her, aren’t you?” It was both Sonall and Devon asking that question. He had always known… always suspected… even seen them together when they thought they were alone. “You’re in love with her.”
Danielle finally stilled. “Please don’t tell her. Oh my God, don’t tell her.”
“I won’t. You have my word.”
“Swear it. Swear on the Void and your sister’s soul.”
Devon shot back on his side of the bed. He was drifting far enough away from his memories that he didn’t even know if English was the best way to respond. “I swear on them.”
“Thank you.”
He curled around her again, face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as she slowly faded away into a deep slumber. He would soon follow her. As soon as that other ghost stopped haunting them.
But it never would, would it?
***
Across town, Miranda stumbled out of her shower, half asleep after a full day at the beach and a late night at the bar. She watched the news as she patted her hair dry with a towel and contemplated getting chocolate before her thirty-fifth birthday hit at midnight.
She was promptly distracted when her phone rang on her bed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, old maid!” It was Heidi.
Miranda sat on the edge of her bed and muted the television. “Better an old maid than an old hag, I guess.”
“You’ll always be my favorite old maid. By the way, happy birthday! It’s midnight!”
Heidi teased her for a few more minutes before they decided to have lunch the next day. Miranda put her cell phone away and flopped on her bed to wait for a restless, alcohol induced sleep to creep over her.
Fate never worked like that.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Was it the alcohol that made that voice appear in the back of her mind? Why was she on the verge of throwing up? “I don’t know what came over me.”
The voices whispered in the back of her mind. She opened one eye and stared at the window overlooking her manicured yard. Too far into the city to see a clear night sky, but she saw the moonlight glowing around the rim of her window.
She also saw the darkened, weakened Shadow creeping across the eaves of her house. The largest one she had seen in the past thirty-five years.
Miranda didn’t fear them. They didn’t make her blood freeze in her veins or her heart race with the choking realizations that she could be winked out of existence at any moment. In some ways, they were friends. Terrible, toxic friends – not unlike many of the real friends she had over the years. Syrfila came to mind.
No. Syrfila couldn’t see the Shadows, the black husks, the debilitated souls that came to Miranda to feast upon her – and to beg her for help. She looked, after all, like their Mother, the woman who traversed the Void for all eternity. It was easy for desperate souls to get confused.
But for one to be so big, so menacing while it lingered on the gutter… that said something had happened beyond Miranda’s ability to comprehend the world around her.
She blinked. The Shadow had disappeared, perhaps nothing but ash in her backyard. It wouldn’t last long beyond her neighborhood, anyway.
Something called to Miranda, and it wasn’t the voice still whispering in her head.
She turned back over and opened her nightstand drawer. There, in the depths of her drawer, was the tiny box holding her ring.
No. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need the ring to fuck up her night or these uninvited memories to remind her of that time the woman she loved came to confess her transgressions wi
th a man.
Miranda had forgiven her back then. She never forgave him.
--- THE FIRST DEATH, PART 2 ---
Sonall found Sulim as the shadows crept over her crumbling body. Upon seeing her, he called her name and knelt at her side. She whimpered.
“Wake up!” He propped up her bleeding body. “Hang in there! We’ll get you help!”
Sulim opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The leaves in the canopy sang on the evening breeze when she was fixed to his horse. Her consciousness faded out again.
“Hang on!” Sonall kicked the horse back into a trot. Blood continued to leave her body, pouring over the horse’s hindquarters. He did not have much time.
They reached the back gate of the compound’s outer walls within ten minutes. Two guards hopped down from their stations, ready to intercept the intruder they could not make out from the distance.
“Open the gate!” Sonall cried, brandishing the crest that identified him. One guard fell back, startled at the sudden appearance of his guild’s second-in-command. He opened the gate to admit Sonall and the bloody body strapped to the rump of his horse. Soon, both guards recognized Sulim. “Sound the alarm! Hurry!” Sonall pushed the horse through the open gateway.
They were in their territory now, with the turrets of the fortress in view as he advanced in panic. Sulim opened one eye. They were home.
“Wait...”
Sonall brought the horse to a halt. “What’s wrong? Will you be ill?” He hopped down.
“The Relic.... he took it.”
“I know. He must have wounded you as well.”
She did not respond.
“Everything will be fine. We’re home now.”
Sulim shook her aching head. “He took it. He’s here. We’re all in danger.”
A dog barking. She tried to lift her head. Sonall turned his attention to the black dog bounding through the jungle.
“What is it?” He continued to walk the horse with the dog now behind them.
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