chapter 37
I STOOD IN KRISTOF’S HOUSEBOAT, IN FRONT OF THE tiny writing desk beside the bunk. Over the desk was a shelf crammed with photos. Memory shots, we called them in the ghost world. We didn’t have cameras or access to old pictures, but we didn’t need them. If we could pluck an image from memory, we could make a photograph of it, as I’d done with Amanda Sullivan’s picture.
On Kristof’s shelf, he had photos of what was important to him. His parents, brothers, nephews, and, of course, his sons. Plus two shots of Savannah, one as she’d been when he met her, and one as she was now. All pictures of family. Then there was a scattering of shots near the middle, of the two of us, memory shots of things we’d done together fifteen years ago, then after our deaths. Off to the side were two more pictures of me, one goofy face-pulling pose, and one of me laughing, curled up in a chair at my house. Then there was the picture he’d had to ask me for: something he’d never had the chance to see, Savannah and me together.
Two days ago, I’d accused him of making me choose between him and our daughter. Now I stared at those pictures, and I realized I’d almost made that choice, however unwillingly. I’d like to say that I would never have become an angel without knowing all the facts, but that would be like saying I’d never have taken Savannah from Kristof without first asking whether he cared. Or like saying I’d never have tried to escape that compound without first making sure my plan was foolproof. Act now, ask questions later, and pay the price forever—that was my path through life. Had Trsiel not told me the cost of angel-hood, I might very well have found myself in an afterlife where I’d chosen Savannah over Kristof—chosen the illusion of a relationship with Savannah over the reality of one with Kristof.
I tore myself away from the photos and headed onto the dock, brain still spinning. When I looked up, I saw Kristof striding down the hill, gaze down, thoughts clearly elsewhere. Then he looked up. As he saw me, his frown evaporated in a wide smile, pace picking up to a jog, a shout of greeting cutting through the soft thump of the waves against the hull.
As I walked out to meet him, Kris’s grin faltered. He said nothing, just walked faster. I stopped at the edge of the wooden dock. My mouth opened and I wanted to tell him I’d found the amulet, regale him with the story of how I’d swiped it from under the Nix’s nose and given her a good ass-kicking in the process. But all I could think about was how close I’d come to throwing away the only real thing I had in this afterlife.
I lifted my hand and touched his cheek. Why does skin still feel warm here, long after the blood that gives it heat is gone? Maybe it’s the memory of warmth that we feel, or maybe it’s something deeper than biology.
Kristof put his hand over mine, and pressed it against his cheek. Then he pulled my hand over to his mouth and kissed my palm, the touch so light it sent a shiver through me. I looked around, but there was no one here to see us. There was never anyone but the occasional seagull or tern winging past overhead.
I pulled my hand from Kristof’s grasp and undid the first button on his shirt. Closing my eyes, I slid my hands to his chest, and traced my fingers over his collarbone. No need to look; my fingers knew the way, as they did over every part of him, neural pathways etched into my brain, tread and retread and committed to memory years before, as if I’d known from the start that someday I’d need to rely on my memories to see him.
“I used to dream about you,” I said, undoing the rest of the shirt as I trailed my fingers down his chest. “Long after I left. Right up to the end. Twelve years gone, and I’d still wake up in the night, thinking you’d just left the room, certain I could smell you there. Even the mattress felt warm.”
I undid his pants and pushed them down over his hips. “Some nights it was just that, dreaming you were sleeping there beside me. Other nights…” I shivered and slipped one hand into his shorts, while the other tugged them off. “Other nights I’d wake up aching for you, sweating, so wet I barely needed to touch myself to come. I could never remember what I’d been dreaming, but I knew it was about you, even when I told myself it wasn’t.”
I slid my hands down his hips, then ran my fingertips down the inside of his thighs. “I used to fantasize about you. I tried not to. I’d start imagining someone else, anyone else, but it always turned into you. I’d close my eyes and remember what you smelled like, what you tasted like. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, and I’d call your office and listen to your voice on the machine. It never sounded like you—not the real you—but if I concentrated just right, and tuned out the words, I could hear your voice, and that always worked.”
“I used to see you,” he said, tugging my shirt out of my jeans. “Everywhere. The street, the office, at home, even sitting beside me in the car. Out of the corner of my eye I’d see something and, for a second, I’d forget you were gone and I…”
He inhaled sharply and buried his head against my shoulder. After a moment, he kissed the side of my neck, and started pushing down my jeans.
“Sometimes it was a smell,” he murmured. “The smell of a food we’d eaten or a place we’d been. Other times it was a laugh. I’d swear I heard your laugh, and I could see you there, in bed, grinning at me, head turned just so, hair falling over your breasts.” Another sharp inhale, and he brushed his fingers along my hair, tickling it over my breast. “That’s what did it for me. Hearing that laugh. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times. But, once in a while, that wasn’t enough.”
He traced his fingers down my sides, and across my stomach, inching lower. “I found one of your apartments once. I stayed away until you were gone. After you moved out, I went there, just to…” He shrugged, eyes lowered. “Just to look. To be there. I found a pillowcase you’d left, fell behind the bed. I could still smell you on it. That’s what I used, when remembering wasn’t enough.”
I put my arms around his neck. “I want you back, Kris. For now and forever.”
He lowered me to the dock.
Afterward, we stretched out, enjoying the faint heat of the sun and the slap of the surf. Kristof’s fingers slid up my thigh, then stopped. He frowned and looked down at my leg. His frown deepened. I followed his gaze to a paper-thin raised welt encircling my thigh where Trsiel’s sword had passed through.
I told him what had happened.
Kristof shook his head. “That man has serious sword-control problems.”
I sputtered a laugh. “You think?”
“If he’s not slow getting it out, he’s sticking it in where it doesn’t belong.”
As my laugh died, I pressed my face against his shoulder. After a moment, Kristof stroked the back of my head. “What else happened?”
Until now, I’d said nothing about Trsiel’s hints that my quest was really a stepping stone to angel-hood. When I told Kristof that, I expected him to burst out laughing. I guess I should have known better. Instead, he listened, then gave a slow nod.
“That makes sense,” he said.
“It does?” I smiled. “I swear, Kris, you’re the only person in the universe who could hear that I’m a candidate for angel-hood and say, ‘That makes sense.’”
“But it does. You may not be the most obvious choice, but if they haven’t caught this Nix in over a hundred years, I’d say the obvious choices aren’t working out so well.” He paused, thoughtful. “I know this may not be the path you had in mind for your afterlife, but you may want to give the offer some serious thought. You’ve been…well, you’ve been better than I’ve seen you in a long time, happier, more…there. First, of course, you’d have to have a very long talk with the Fates, find out exactly what this deal would entail.”
“I—I’ve done that, Kris.”
His brows arched.
I managed a twist of a smile. “Surprised at my foresight? Don’t be. Trsiel told me the catch. And good thing he did, because…” My throat went tight. “Because I came very close to making a very big mistake. I’m not going to be an angel, Kris. The price is too high.”
“Savannah,” he murmured. “You couldn’t watch her anymore.”
“No, that’s not it. If anything, Savannah was the biggest plus to this whole offer.” I caught his gaze. “Becoming an angel would mean I could protect her, that I could have stopped Lily, just like Trsiel did. And, ever since Trsiel told me I might be a candidate, that’s all I’ve been able to think about, how it would help me with Savannah. But then, after you talked to me in Alaska, I wasn’t so sure that was the right path anymore. Then, today, I found out something that clinched it. Become an angel, and they send me off to angel-land. A one-way, one-passenger ticket.”
His brow crinkled, then a blink of surprise, quickly stifled. “You’d have to leave the ghost world, you mean, and you like it here—”
I cut him off with a fierce kiss. “You know what I mean, so stop playing dumb. I don’t care about the damned ghost world. It’s you I won’t leave.”
A slow smile, then he leaned over and kissed me back. A few minutes of that—too few minutes for my taste—and he pulled away.
“So no halo and wings for Eve.” He grinned. “I have to admit, that particular outfit wasn’t one I’ve ever imagined you in.”
“One of very few, I’m sure.” I shifted closer to him, belly to belly, feeling a fresh wave of heat. “I will find a job. That much I’ve realized. I need to do something in this life. Maybe we can spend some time thinking about it. I can try on different uniforms, see if any catch your fancy…”
He laughed and slid his hand around to my rear, pulling me against him. “I’m sure most will catch my fancy, at least for a night or two. Perhaps we can start with the nurse…” He closed his eyes, lips moving in a soft oath.
“Kris?”
“Sorry, just the practical part of my brain, reminding me that I’m distracting you from something more important than nurse fantasies.” His gaze slid down my body. “I could shut it off, if you like…”
I laughed as I sat up. “You’re right, I do have work to do, and we’ll have all of eternity to play dress-up when I’m done. Now give me a hand brainstorming my next move. As partners go, Trsiel’s a good guy, but when it comes to plotting, our brains operate on completely different wavelengths.”
“Won’t let you kill anyone, will he?”
“Won’t even consider it. No killing, no stealing, no lying. I think I’ve caught him swearing once or twice, but I can’t be sure.”
“I’m taller, too.”
I sputtered a laugh. “You’re what?”
“Taller.” He snuck a grin at me. “He’s better-looking, thinner, still has all his hair…but I’m taller. By at least an inch.”
“Not only do you support me in my moral bankruptcy, but you’re taller? What more could any woman want?”
“So she didn’t get the amulet,” Kris said after I’d recapped my last Nix encounter.
“Right, but she said she had another way. A less satisfactory way.”
“Spiritual possession,” he said. “And for that she’d need not just any necromancer. What did you say back at the castle? Few necros who are powerful enough to perform it—”
“Would be stupid enough to perform it.”
“A powerful necro…who’s somewhat lacking in mental agility.” His brows arched. “Sound like anyone you’ve worked with recently?”
“Jaime’s not stupid. She doesn’t come off as the brightest bulb, but, hey, I know all about the benefits of acting dumber than you are. In her case, there are some emotional issues there, too. Acting like a ditzy celebrity might be her way of dealing with things.”
“True, but, as you say, she doesn’t come off as the brightest bulb. What’s important is what she appears to be. The Nix did make some cryptic comment about her secondary choice having some effect on you, that it’d be ‘temporarily’ very satisfying, probably meaning something that would hurt you. If she knows that you know Jaime—”
“Shit!” I scrambled up. “I need to warn Jaime.”
Kris got to his feet as I conjured fresh clothing. “I’m right beside you. But even if the Nix does get to Jaime before we do, Jaime’s not about to volunteer her body for full spirit possession, certainly not to an unknown spirit.”
Finding Jaime wouldn’t be a problem. Because of her erratic schedule, we’d already worked out a system so I could track her down if I needed help. If she was out, she’d leave me a note on her desk, where I could read it.
I recalled Jaime mentioning earlier that she’d be in Sacramento for a couple of shows this week, and when we got to her apartment, the note she’d left confirmed she was already gone. She’d even penciled in her schedule in both local and Pacific time, to avoid confusion.
“Very considerate,” Kris said.
“Unless she thinks I’m the one lacking a few brain cells.”
He laughed. “There are probably misconceptions on both sides.” He peered down at the paper. “So her show finished an hour ago, with nothing scheduled before or after. Either she’s still at the theater, or she’s headed back to her hotel.”
“For which we have a name, but no room number, which she probably didn’t know at the time. She says it’ll be a suite on one of the top floors. That should narrow it down…I hope.”
“Do you want to take that, then? And I’ll search the theater.”
I agreed, and we left.