This Side of the Grave

“Ah, of course. Only three minutes left now, Kitten.”

 

I looked out at the city’s lights winking across the other side of the bridge, trying to steady my nerves. Even in the dark, I could see the buildings lining the water clearly. Every now and then, spectral forms caught my eye, ghosts seamlessly moving in and out of them and other structures as they went about their phantomy business. New Orleans truly was one of the most haunted places in the world, with more sentient ghosts than anywhere else I’d ever seen. Hell, this was where we’d adopted Fabian from.

 

“Final minute, luv. No more stalling,” Bones said relentlessly.

 

Bastard. I straightened my shoulders, took in a deep breath for courage, and then sprang off the ledge of the bridge as if it were a diving board. Instantly my eyes watered with the sting of air whipping at them. Even though I knew this wouldn’t kill me, a rush of panic still filled me as nothing happened except me falling faster toward the river. Almost madly, I began to windmill my arms, as if by doing that they’d suddenly sprout feathers and wing me away. This strategy of his wasn’t working! I wasn’t flying; I was falling like a dropped brick. God, I’d hit that water any moment . . .

 

My whole body braced for impact when I felt a whoosh and distance abruptly began to grow between me and the river. For a split second, I thought Bones had caught me, deciding at the last moment not to let me crash into the water after all. But just as quickly, I realized I didn’t feel the hard pressure of his arms. No, I felt nothing but the oddest sensation of air cushioning me, like invisible jets had magically appeared to propel me upward. A glance down proved I was now dozens of feet above the river, moving upward with every passing moment, nothing supporting me except those pulsating currents of air.

 

A wild grin split my face. Holy shit, I was doing it! I was actually flying! That former panic at once turned to elation. I was flying and it was the most amazing feeling. Far, far superior to the occasional dreams I’d had where I could soar without explanation or practice. The air continued to feel different, too. Like it had form that I could mold and manipulate. No longer empty space, but a canvas of opportunities and exhilaration instead.

 

I looked around, trying to spot where Bones was, when just as suddenly as I’d risen, I began to fall. My arms started doing that mad flapping again, but this time, nothing happened. A dull resignation filled me as I saw the distance disappear between me and the river. Good thing Bones has my leather jacket was my last thought before I landed into the river with a tremendous splash.

 

The jolt went through my body like a roundhouse kick. My momentum plunged me several feet under water and I came up spitting out the mouthful I’d accidentally sucked in when I gasped at the impact. Bones’s face was the first thing I saw when I resurfaced. He hovered a few feet above me like a beautiful apparition, staring at me with a grin.

 

“Told you jumping off that bridge would flare up your instincts enough for you to fly.”

 

I gave a pointed look at the less-than-aromatic river I was floating in. “Yeah, but I’m still in the water, so it didn’t work as well as you thought it would.”

 

His grin widened. “Never said it wouldn’t take practice before you learned how to keep from crashing.”

 

I lunged for him, determined to plunge him into the water with me, but he neatly avoided my grab, chuckling. Then he hauled me out of the river by my shoulders. An expertly controlled glide later—showoff—and I was back on the top of the bridge, soaking the metal ledge with my waterlogged clothes.

 

“All right. Again,” Bones stated.

 

I glanced down at the river and then back at him, noticing he was far enough away to avoid any other attempts I might make at grabbing him. Before we’re done tonight, I promised him silently, you’re taking a dip in that water with me. Necessity might have prompted him to insist on this extreme form of flying lesson, but his smirk said Bones was getting a kick out of seeing me splat into the river while I struggled to find my vampiric wings.

 

“I’d forgotten how much you used to enjoy giving me a hard time in training. Take every cheap shot, every low blow, right?”

 

His grin became more wicked, confirming my guess. “Be harder to stress you into flying now that you’ve already jumped once. Might have to throw you off to get your blood up enough this time.”

 

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him.

 

A brow arched. “That a dare, Kitten?”

 

He was somehow on the other side of me, moving with a lightning quickness that left me no defense. I felt an instant’s strong grasp, a push—and then I was tumbling end over end toward the river, my curses flowing as fast as the wind and rapidly approaching water.

 

“Goddammit, I’m going to get you for this! You just wait until I get my hands on you—”

 

“Sticks and stones, luv,” I heard him call out in reply. Then I smashed into the river, cutting off more of my furious rampage. I came up sputtering again, seeing Bones hovering over me, this time without even bothering to hold back his laughter.

 

“You look like a drowned rat. Perhaps you should try less flapping and more concentrating next time.”

 

“You are so going to pay,” I swore, lunging at him.

 

“If you want your revenge, come and get it,” he taunted, flying just out of my reach as I continued to swim toward him.

 

My gaze narrowed. He wanted to play games, huh? Well, maybe I’d forgotten how much he enjoyed being a hard-ass in training, but he’d obviously forgotten that I was a fast learner. You’ve flown twice before, which means you have the ability. You just need to sharpen it, he’d said just a short while ago.

 

Oh, I’d sharpen it. Right now.

 

I channeled all my plans for paybacks into picturing the air above me as a ladder I could climb, if I could make it solid in my mind. Bones continued to fly in tight circles above me, asking how I enjoyed my evening bath and pondering that it must not be true that cats didn’t like water. I ignored those witticisms, continuing to picture the air as something that was malleable.

 

Energy began to push against my skin, building until it thrummed with the same steadiness that my heartbeat once pulsed inside me. Remember how the air felt before. It’s not empty space. It’s something you can shape and mold, propelling you up and after him, if you just concentrate hard enough . . .

 

When I felt the air above me pulsating in time to the energy in my body, I vaulted straight up out of the water. Bones was in the middle of his next pass over me and I barreled after him even though he yanked himself backward at the last second. That exultant feeling returned, like a shock of adrenaline to my system, as I felt the air bend to my will, allowing me the momentum and support to catch him with an aerial tackle that flipped both of us around.

 

And then, with a victorious snicker, I tightened my grip and tumbled us into the river, his answering laugh the last thing I heard before the water closed over us.

 

 

 

 

 

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