by J. E. Taylor
“Oh bite me,” she said laughing and he held the door to the store open for her.
He grinned. “Don’t tempt me.”
There were a lot of mirrors in the store and fear laced through her, creating a metallic taste in her mouth and the laugh died in her throat.
He put his arm protectively around her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.” Chris said, leading her in the store. “Which ones do you want?”
“How many do we need?”
He started laughing. “We only need one, but maybe we should rely on your lucky number.”
“Seven?” She looked up at him and he nodded in response. She looked around and then back at him. It felt right.
“It feels right,” he said, mirroring her thoughts.
Jessica walked into a room that had several old-fashioned Cheval mirrors. She crossed to one that was beautifully crafted in cherry. She looked at her reflection and Chris’s beyond her. He was smiling.
“That’s the one I would have picked,” he said to her reflection.
A salesman by the name of Bob walked toward them. “Can I help you?”
“How many of this style do you have in stock?” Chris asked.
“We have three.” the salesman answered.
Chris nodded. “We’ll take them.” He looked for confirmation from Jessica and she nodded approval. “We also need four wall mirrors that would complement these.”
He turned and saw the salesman light up.
Back at the house, Chris made her wait as he set up the mirrors in a semi circle at the foot of the bed. Each one was still covered with a sheet creating a solid wall of covered mirrors. He grabbed the chair and set it where he remembered in the dream and then looked around the room. “Here goes nothing,” he said and stepped behind the mirrors grabbing sheet after sheet, hurrying out of the room that now had a wall of uncovered mirrors. He closed the door behind him and walked into the living room glancing at his watch. It was almost ten.
Jessica stood on the deck, the dress billowing gently around her in the wind. Chris dumped the sheets unceremoniously on the floor and went out to her. Fear, raw and raging boiled in his blood shaking his entire frame.
He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. “I love you, Jessie,” he whispered and took in the scenery for what could be the last time.
Chapter 80
Tom woke from a nightmare and looked around him. The clock blinked 7:00 and he shot out from under the blankets. He was going to be late.
“Shit,” he said, glancing at his unwanted companion and squashed the urge to smash in her face; instead he went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He spit and looked into the mirror and the mental grip took hold.
Frank stared back at him. “I think I’ll forgo the pleasure of killing you for now.” He stepped aside, waving to the bedroom set up. “But I figured I’d give you a front row seat to watch your slut die today.”
Tom couldn’t move, terror raged through him and his gaze shot from one side of the room to the bank of mirrors. Oh God, she bought mirrors.
Frank sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the door expectantly. “No. Please, no,” he begged the image.
Frank looked at him. “Oh yes,” he said and Tom heard the door to their bedroom in Maine open.
Jessica walked in the room and into Tom’s line of sight. She was in the white dress, looking more beautiful than he ever remembered.
“Oh God,” he whispered and she didn’t react, she couldn’t see him or hear him. His heart thundered in his ears and he struggled to break the mental hold Frank had on him.
Frank grabbed her and threw her across the room. She hit the wall hard and turned to face the mirrors but Frank was on her before she could turn all the way. He ripped the dress off, grabbing her by the hair and tossing her on the bed. She struggled but didn’t make a noise. Frank punched her when she tried to sit up and she fell back, dazed.
“NO,” Tom screamed still trying to break the spell that held him in place.
Frank handcuffed her to the bed and stripped the rest of her clothing off before producing a knife out of thin air. “Call him.”
Jessica clenched her teeth.
He ran the dull edge of the blade over her body. “Call him,” Frank insisted. “Or die alone.”
Jessica let a tear slip out of her eye. She leaned her head back and the scream filled the room.
“TY!”
Chapter 81
Chris flew into the bedroom and Jessica was already tied to the bed, naked. His breath locked in his throat and he stared at the stainless steel handcuffs on her wrists. It wasn’t an imaginary bond like the first time he careened into this bedroom less than two weeks ago.
Frank’s laughter hung on the air and Chris stepped closer, within the arch of the mirrors meeting her terrified gaze. Her fear cut him deep and doubt crept into his heart.
Before he could spin around to the mirrors, hands were on him, slamming him into the chair hard enough to knock the wind out of him and he caught the image of Tom watching in horror in the far mirror.
His good hand was yanked in place on the chair arm and thick rope appeared, winding around the chair, binding his wrist in place. He swung his cast in the general direction where he thought Frank would be and searing pain flashed in his abdomen. His gaze dropped to the butcher knife sticking out of his stomach. Blood spread over his shirt and down the front of his jeans.
He had no time to react before that invisible hand slammed the cast down on the chair tying it in place. Frank’s ghost was much stronger than Frank had been in life and the next blow hit Chris square in the nose, knocking his head back into the wood causing him to see stars.
Jessica’s screams brought him out of the daze and he shook his head, focusing on the room again. The tip of the blade tore through the skin just below his eye and he winced, sucking the air through his clenched teeth as the ghost raked the blade down his face, resurrecting the jagged scar he had for most of his life. Outside of the air sucking through his teeth, he remained silent letting his rage build with the pain.
The knife drifted to the opposite cheek carving the same ugly scar and then Frank materialized before him.
“That’s the Ty I know,” he said and turned toward Jessica. “I am going to fuck the life out of you while he watches.” He smiled. “But before I do...”
He slammed the knife down into Chris’s thigh, severing the
femoral artery forcing a cry of pain from his lungs.
“I promise, you’ll see her die before you do,” he laughed, yanking the knife out and heading to the bed, mounting Jessica and plunging the knife in her side.
“NO!” Chris bellowed.
Jessica screamed, as both the knife and his ice-cold member tore through her.
He yanked the knife out of her flesh and switched hands, with a second slam of his hips, he buried the knife in her other side, smiling at Chris.
Chris struggled against the bonds, tears blurring his vision and his voice barreling from his chest in a ream of curses and promises he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep. Blood pumped out of his leg with every beat of his heart, making him dizzy and lightheaded. If he didn’t get to her soon, they both would die. Panic threatened and Frank laughed turning his concentration back on Jessica.
The moment Frank took his eyes off him, Chris seized the opportunity and looked down at the rope around his wrists. “Snap” he whispered, his voice drowned by Jessica’s scream as Frank’s knife sliced across her stomach. The ropes burst open at the same time that Frank buried the knife in her chest, missing her heart by inches.
Chris moved like lightning, despite his wounds, and grabbed Frank by the hair, yanking the knife out of Jessica. Every mirror in the room as well as the one three thousand miles away burst into a million tiny shards, vaporizing before they hit the ground. Chris ripped him off her, spinning him around and planting the knife in his back. Frank screamed and fell to his knees trying to reach the knife embedded in his back.<
br />
There was no escape; Chris had stripped him of all power when he trapped him here.
Chris jumped on top of Jessica and looked at the handcuffs, willing them to release her. His gaze snapped to hers the moment the metal clanked against the headboard.
“It hurts.” Her labored breath wheezed. He slipped the key that Eric had given him out of his cast where he hid it, gripping it with grim determination.
“God, please,” Chris whispered and leaned down, kissing her, closing his eyes, praying that both she and the gift he gave her would make it through this ordeal. The transition was quick, fueled by his mounting panic and dissolving consciousness.
Blinking open his eyes, he saw the door at the far end of the hall. There was no way he’d get there in time and he twitched, sending a blast of power in the direction of the locked door. It blew off the hinges and white light barreled down the corridor toward him. Chris braced himself for the pain he knew was coming.
Jessica cried out under his lips, bringing him back into the room with her. He clenched his teeth and pain exploded in his thigh, the healing pain infinitely worse than the knife had been. He turned away from her to see Frank slowly standing up with the knife still embedded in his back.
“Burn in hell you son of a bitch,” he snarled letting his rage strike out. Frank’s ghost burst into flames. Screams of agony filled the room and the floor opened letting the death demons loose to drag his burning essence back to the bowels of hell.
Somewhere in an Albany graveyard, the inside of a casket flashed into flames until there was nothing but ashes.
The brightness faded, leaving Chris stretched out over Jessica on the bed. The power raged inside him, churning, coiling, begging to be released and he closed his eyes, laying his head on her shoulder, concentrating on restraining the beast within. His arms wrapped tightly around her and he kissed her neck, feeling for a pulse with his lips. The steady thrum of her blood throbbed against his lips and relief flooded through him, springing tears to his eyes.
He pulled back and her slack features met his gaze. She hadn’t regained consciousness yet and he picked her up, carrying her to the bathroom as harsh sobs ripped from his chest. The warm shower soaked through his clothes and tendrils of red-stained water seeped down the drain. She stirred in his arms and when her eyes opened and met his, he tried to smile, but couldn’t quite accomplish it. Blood still stained her perfect unmarked skin and the vision of Frank repeatedly stabbing her wouldn’t let go. He set her on her feet, bringing his shaking hand to her cheek and kissed her.
The kiss was slow at first and she pressed against him, her fingers nimbly unbuttoning his shirt as the tongue dance ramped up. Steam rose from the shower stall, not just a product of the hot water, but a manifestation of the heat between them and when Jessica reached to unbutton his wet jeans Chris grabbed her hands.
Every fiber of his body wanted her, but he knew if he did this, he would never be able to let her go and she was still married to Tom. Without a word, he stepped out of the shower and backed out of the room, his entire frame trembling.
“I can’t stay,” he gasped. Tears stained his unscarred face and he turned, bolting from the house and hopped into his car, tearing out of her driveway.
Chapter 82
Tom panicked, screaming at the mirror, tears burning his eyes and throat. His intense gaze not even diverted when Sharon flew into the room.
“What the hell is...” Her voice stopped.
Air, he needed air, his lungs couldn’t get enough air, the panic attack much more debilitating than Frank’s invisible spell. “Where the hell is he?” the words squeezed out of his constricted chest and Jessica answered by calling his name at the top of her lungs.
Chris flew into the bedroom and Tom began to chant the same words over and over and over like an omen that could save his wife. “Break the mirrors, break the mirrors, break the mirrors.”
“Oh Jesus!” Tom yelled when the knife plunged into Chris’s thigh. “How long does it take to bleed to death?” Tom asked in horror. “Jesus, do something!”
Frank plunged the knife into Jessica and the strength bled out of his legs.
“Break the fucking mirrors!”
He heard the snap of the rope over Jessica’s scream and the blur of Chris crossing the minimal distance. The second he grabbed Frank, the mirror in his bathroom shattered, spraying glass across the room and releasing the mental hold.
Tom collapsed onto the floor, kneeling and holding his stomach tight, the cool tile against his forehead giving him some reference to where he was. His breath wheezed and he drew in a gasp.
“Jessie,” he screamed and then the sobs started. How could she live through that? How?
He crawled to the toilet and threw up. “Jessie,” he sobbed. “Please be okay, please God, please.”
The hand on the back of his neck made him stiffen and he wiped his mouth and looked up at Sharon through tear-stained lashes. “Get out,” he hissed.
Her gaze traveled between him and the space that the mirror once occupied her features stark against the paleness of her skin.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” Tom bellowed at her, breaking her paralysis.
She looked down at him and then back up at the wall. “What a story.”
He could see the wheels turning in her head and he shot to his feet and grabbed her by the throat slamming her into the wall. “If you so much as breathe a word of what you saw, I’ll let him loose on you,” Tom growled.
Her eyes went wide and she gulped and nodded.
Tom let her go and turned to the toilet again as another round of vomiting gripped him. He brushed his teeth and walked on shaky legs into the bedroom.
Picking up the phone, he called the studio. “I’m running late, I’ll be there in an hour,” he said and hung up.
Sharon walked into the bedroom and he glared at her. “Was that real?” she asked pointing to the room.
Tom laughed. “Yes that was as real as you and I are standing here. That was Frank’s ghost, the ghost I told you about in my drunken stupor.”
Sharon’s eyebrows rose and she glanced toward the bathroom. “She called out the name Ty. Is he alive?”
“No Sharon, Ty is as dead as a doornail. That was Christopher Aris and he and Jessica needed to do that in order to get rid of Frank’s ghost.” The partial truth came easy because she was the last person on earth that he wanted to explain his duplicity to. If she knew, he would never have a chance to be free of her. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to call my wife to see if she is alive and I do not want you anywhere near me right now.”
“If she is alive, remember, that could be a temporary thing.”
“Get out of my bedroom,” he warned and locked the door behind her. The cell shook in his hands and he hit the familiar speed dial.
“Please God, please, God, please God,” he whispered, each ring drilling a hole further into his core.
“Hello.”
Her voice set off another round of tears and he sat heavily on the corner of the bed. “Jess, Thank God, you’re okay.”
“Tom?”
“Yes. I saw. He made me watch, Jess,” he said through the gasps, his emotions squeezing the air out of his lungs.
“Tom, breathe, deep breath in, that’s right, now slowly exhale, that’s right,” she said calming him down. “I’m okay, well, as okay as one can be after something like that. Now breathe.” She took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Did you get him?” Tom asked when he felt some semblance of control.
“Chris did.”
“Is he still there?”
“No, he kind of freaked out and took off,” she said. “I need to go after him, Tom.”
Tom closed his eyes. “Is that what you really want?”
Quiet permeated the phone line and he heard her sigh. “I’m so sorry.”
“Is he what you really want?”
“Yes, he is. I love him and this is where I belong.” She final
ly made her choice.
He took a deep breath as both relief and loss accosted him. “Just know I will always love you, no matter what you read about me. It will always be you who has my heart.”
“I know and you still have a piece of mine as well. Thank you for keeping me safe for all these years.” Her voice cracked and he could tell she was crying.
“Always,” Tom said and hung up the phone. “I’ll always keep you safe.” He headed to take the shower he started over an hour ago.
Chapter 83
Chris shook all the way to his estate. It took him three tries to type in the password on the keypad that opened the gate. When it finally rolled open, he slammed the gas tearing up the gravel driveway as he went. He stumbled into the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers until he found the shears he was looking for and began to cut the soaking cast off his arm. The shakes made the task difficult but he finally got most of the way through and dropped the scissors, ripping the fiberglass from his arm.
Stripping the wet, blood soaked clothing off; he headed outside to the pool, diving into the cold water, cooling the heat inside him down to a low simmer. He swam lap after lap trying to escape his feelings until exhaustion overwhelmed him and he grabbed the edge, putting his forehead on the cool concrete and closing his eyes letting his breath slow to a normal pace.
He climbed out of the frigid water and walked into the cabana house grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his shivering body.
Jessica stood at the far side of the pool and he stopped in his tracks.
“You shouldn’t be here, Jess,” he said and breezed past her into the house.
She followed him and he vaulted up the stairs and into his bedroom. He turned as she walked in behind him.
“You don’t understand,” he began, tears blurring his vision.
“Enlighten me.” She stepped closer.
“I almost got both of us killed,” he said and the tears spilled over. “I almost got you killed,” he whispered. “I almost got...” He trailed off; she didn’t know she was pregnant yet.