CHAPTER FOUR—MOLLY

  “Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are all dead.” Oscar Wilde

  Cormac leads the way into her apartment, holding my hand, and my mind flashes back to when we first met. Her band performs regularly at Shabby Tabby ever since they moved into town. Part of me wanted to keep my distance, guessing that they’d be relocating before too long. The other part of me couldn’t keep away. After a guy in the crowd leaned in and tried to grope her while she was singing, I’d been sure to only sit safe customers within reaching distance of her. She’d noticed when it’d happened a couple nights in a row and nodded at me in appreciation. And then she smiled. It was like a light shining through her perfectly parted, blonde hair. A dimple surfaced in her right cheek alongside her crooked smile. It gave her smooth as silk skin character and instantly warmed my heart.

  Still, I never thought I’d have a chance. I’m sure she saw enough troublemakers in her line of work. I’d just be another one hitting on her. So, I continued to keep my distance. But one day, as I was clearing a table, a pair of hands with chipped forest green nail polish and goth rings appeared before me. Cormac was leaning on the table. “When’s your shift up? Want to go grab a cup o’ joe?” she’d asked me.

  At first, my breath had been so lost I couldn’t speak to answer, and then, like the fool that I am, I began nodding “yes” as if this would impress her. I quickly regained my senses and said, “Yeah, I’d love that. You been to the Daily Grind yet?”

  After my shift, she waved off her fellow band members, walked up to me, and latched one of her arms in mine, and I’ve been locked ever since. That is until, after months of being attached at the hip, she decided to leave me hanging and not answer any of my texts or calls. I should ask her more about what she was doing with Oliver’s crew and why she didn’t reach out, but that could derail our current forward movement, and it’s just not worth it to me. Once we’re in the kitchen, she lets go so she can grab two mugs and turn on the coffee maker. We’ve had many cups of joe since that first one. It’s one of our favorite pastimes.

  “You sure it’s okay that I’m here?” I ask.

  “Where else would you be?” Cormac cocks her eyebrow.

  “It’s a quick jump from the silent treatment.”

  “We’re just making coffee.”

  “We never just have coffee.”

  “I restocked your favorite Daily Grind blend.” The thought warms me.

  “Bet you got their additives too.”

  I grab her hips from behind to move her out of the way so I can get the sugar and cream. Before she steps to the side, she turns in my direction. Now my hands are on her hips as she faces me, locking her eyes with mine. She puts her arms over my shoulders, and our lips crush together. The kiss is full of passion and urgency. Maybe she missed me as much as I missed her. My breath quickens, and I’m lost. Pulling off her jacket, I lean into her against the pantry door. She’s unbuckling my belt and pulling it through the loops. It rubs my skin and burns, but nothing’s felt so good.

  I reach under her shirt, touching her perfect body. She’s a mixture of boniness in some spots while ample in others. It gets me panting just remembering how she feels. Then her hands are down my jeans, and she brushes her fingers over my hips. Her supple hands move fluidly to the spots of most pleasure but stop before fully engaging. I lift her shirt moving close enough that I can feel my breath bounce off her skin and back onto my face. I softly rub my hands over the tips of her chest in the paper-thin, smooth motion that I know is excruciatingly wonderful. She groans.

  I kiss her neck and behind her ear. I think I might just lose myself in the jungle of her hair. Her skin is warm and smooth, and has all the comfort I need right now. How I’ve missed this. She’s like the caffeine I’m addicted to, a pain when missing but sweet, sweet serenity once I consume her. She pushes her body against mine, rubbing in a rhythmic dance of need. And just as we’re about to remove articles of clothing and bring each other to a climax, I open my eyes to look at her, but the image I expect to see isn’t there. In its place is the scene of Cormac tied and ready for execution.

  With a sharp intake of breath, I step back, my heart pounding, pulsing in the most quenchable parts of my body.

  “What,” she sputters out. “What are you doing?” She reaches to pull me back to her.

  I reciprocate with a fiercely strong hug.

  “I have to tell you something,” I say into her hair.

  “Can’t it wait?”

  “No, listen. I think you’re in danger.”

  Now she nudges me away to look into my eyes.

  “What are you talking about? Don’t be upset about me hanging out with Oliver. He’s harmless.”

  “No, that’s not it. You know what, never mind.”

  “Huh, no. You do not get to just drop this.”

  “Okay, I’ve been seeing these visions. I just saw one.”

  “Oh, but why push me away?”

  “In my visions, you’re bound...awaiting execution.”

  “Seriously, why not protect me.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do. You can’t go out on Oliver’s ship again.”

  She picks up her jacket.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Why do you think I didn’t tell you about being out with Oliver’s crew, to begin with?”

  She walks to the door and opens it.

  “You’re leaving me in your apartment?”

  “You know how to lock up.”

  And with that, she’s gone. How frustrating! I need her to listen to me. How am I going to protect her when she’s keeping away from me? How can we be so hot one minute and then cold the next? I need to get my stuff together. It’s time to go talk to Kyle.

  “THIS IS YOUR FOURTH. Maybe you should slow down.”

  “I’m fine, Kyle. Everything’s fine.”

  “Perhaps some rest would be good.”

  “Why does she keep leaving?”

  “She’s been helping Oliver’s crew with ghosts.”

  “Do you actually think that’s what Oliver’s doing? It seems like something he typically ignores.”

  “Oliver isn’t usually one to believe, but this time seems to have shaken him.”

  “Tell me more about Cormac’s direct line of communication with the dead.”

  “They’re not dead to her.”

  “What are they then?”

  “Cormac believes our souls take a pause in an afterlife place before being reincarnated.”

  “Okay. She’s never talked to me about that.”

  “Guess it never came up.”

  Kyle serves Claire from the café a couple barstools away, and a few of Cormac’s song lyrics float through my head like a fog over the morning water. Our souls exist forever intertwined, makes my heart pound, and your essence will haunt me eternally has my palms sweating. Then I remember hearing Drogheda and the research with Orla unveiling an event centuries ago. Someone lost the woman they loved. Every time I see the vision, I can feel their ache in the pit of my stomach.

  Speaking of stomach, I need to put some solid food in mine. I must sober up and figure out what the hell is going on. I pull up more articles on the siege of Drogheda and, as I’m reading stumble upon the story of two lovers escaping an Irish castle only to be lost at sea. Rumor has it that she’s now a banshee who haunts the castle on stormy nights. My being half banshee doesn’t calm my nerves, but the smell of purple onions on a club sandwich overrides my trepidation, and I devour it as quickly as I can.

  I need to know what’s happening with Cormac and Oliver. What is their crew really seeing? And who is Cormac communicating with? I’m going to have to ask something of Orla I never ask...for her to use her power. All she’d have to do is put a hand on Cormac’s shoulder. She’d be able to see everything so clearly, and we could sort all of this out. She’s able to use my power any day she wants. I don’t have the leisure of turning mine off. She can avoid hers by not touching anyone. I hear the ringing no matter what I do so long as death is around. Sometimes I like being in a small town because there’s less ringing. Other times it’s worse. I knew before we lost Elma from the bakery, remembering how she offered me free breakfast growing up. Not everyone but a few very special people have become close. Losing them is worse. Knowing when they’re about to die is devastating.

  I take the last bite of my sandwich and pull a wad of cash out of my pocket. Setting it on the bar I yell, “Thanks, Kyle! Good luck with the wedding plans.”

  “Yeah, too bad Jenny’s no longer in town. She was exceptionally good at making floral arrangements.” He waves, and I leave, wishing I had on more than a jacket. The wind bites through the thin material, and I shiver. Walking home, I fear the reprimand I’m going to receive. Orla will have expected me to demand an explanation, and apology from Cormac, but instead, all I could do was think that she was safe and having the warmth of her body up against mine. Hopefully, Dave has kept Orla preoccupied. I wish they’d work through her barriers already. I’m tired of seeing her sad looks when she thinks no one’s watching. Staring out into the sky as if it holds some answer she’s yet to discover. How the first second when she sees him, she lights up, but it’s quickly dashed with anguish. I’ve been so worried about Cormac. Have I dropped the ball not worrying for my best friend, the one who has always been there for me? Is she okay?

  All of a sudden, it feels as if a pair of eyes must be watching me. I quicken my step, remembering the corpse we saw at Bethel’s Landing. Why did the ringing not give me more heads-up notice? Am I losing my touch? Would I hear ringing if I were about to die? My eyes dart from one shadowed spot to another, expecting something to jump out at any second. Who was it at Bethel’s Landing? I’d been so preoccupied with Cormac and the visions that I forgot to find out. Murder has come to our small town. It lingers around my head like smoke from a tobacco pipe, close and persistent. The silence is creepy once I finally reach our house. I don’t even hear Boomer’s whining or barks. My hands shake as I retrieve my keys, and it takes three tries before unlocking our door...

  CHAPTER FIVE—ORLA

  “It's my rule never to lose my temper till it would be detrimental to keep it.” Seán O'Casey

  Possessing the soul of the only man I’ve ever loved has its perks. In Dave’s mind, I see him imagining our first kiss. He’s grabbing my hair as our bodies are like magnets pulling us into one another. Then he moves one hand to my hip and the other to the nape of my neck while he kisses below my ear on the opposite side. I gasp even though these are only thoughts. He physically gasps realizing, that I’m inside his head, but he doesn’t let go. To be fair, I push forward one of my own thoughts, so it’s an equal invasion of privacy. In the vision, I lift my head, giving him more access to my throat, and moan. I push forward the tingling sensation on my hip where he’s touching it so that the tingling spreads to his hand. It’s everything I’ve hoped for and more.

  “What? How?” he asks silently in our heads like he’s a pro at this.

  “I’m a soul possessor, Dave. I possess anyone I touch.”

  “That’s why...”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want you to go another day untouched.”

  “I can see your every secret.”

  “And?”

  “It’s rude. It’s not fair.”

  He closes the spiritual space that formed between us for conversation, and we’re kissing again, both in our minds and not. I wrap my arms around his neck. I can feel every muscle in his chest as he reaches his arms around me, his biceps pressing into my sides. Our mouths seem to be molded for this, a perfect fit. His tongue is a mix of strength and gentleness with years of passion behind it. My breaths quicken. Our lips separate for just a second to catch our breath.

  And that’s when it suddenly goes all wrong. I see his recent bursts of anger and realize they were out of his control. Something’s been bothering him lately, and not even he knows what it is. He sees what I’m seeing and pushes physically away from me, panic streaking through his eyes. So not the pro at soul surrender I’d hoped he’d be. It leaves me with a cold and lonely space.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He seems so lost.

  “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “All good. That was intense.”

  “I know.”

  He turns to leave, looking bewildered.

  “Please. Don’t go.”

  I’m not ready for this to end. I take a seat in one of the two antique accent chairs in our living room, gesturing for him to sit in the opposite chair. That way we can be less than a foot away from each other but have distance too. He shakes his shoulders, huffs, and then sits down, clearing his throat before he speaks.

  “So, you’re a soul possessor?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s that like? How did you?”

  “It’s a lonely way of being. As far back as I can remember, I haven’t been able to hug anyone. An early memory I have of possessing a soul was at the Elementary School playground, but Timothy and I hit our heads on the slide we’d been under so the teachers chalked it up to mild concussion.”

  “Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair.

  There’s a pause before he continues.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “It’s complicated. I didn’t want to lose you. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore.”

  Boomer comes up to him and sets his head on Dave’s knee as if he knows the man needs consoling. I pet Boomer and ponder. How come it had been so good at first? I’ve never been able to converse with someone like that. What caused it to change? When was the veil pierced? Did I alter the process somehow?

  “Can I try something?”

  He gulps.

  “I promise to pull away if it’s unsettling in the slightest.”

  “Okay.” He doesn’t seem completely mollified.

  I put my hand on his, holding it the way I’ve dreamt of for so many years. He turns his hand up and squeezes mine. The smile on his face brightens the whole room. I’m in his thoughts, and he’s in mine, but both are blissfully positive. I squeeze his hand back and then pull away before anything can go wrong, grateful to not feel any searing pain, the usual possession aftermath, in my head.

  “That was...” I exclaim.

  “I know...”

  “Dave, can I ask? What’s been upsetting you lately?”

  “Ah, well, work’s been a beast and....”

  Molly walks in through the front door, interrupting us. Her eyes dart around, and her right hand is clenched into a fist in front of her chest. She seems spooked.

  “Are you okay?”

  Dave stands and approaches her, moving his head to investigate if she’s all right. She seems to be frozen in a state of shock. I want to ask her if she hears ringing, but Dave’s here, and I’ve already unloaded a lot on him tonight as it is, even that was breaking the rules.

  It seems to click to her all of a sudden that she’s safe at home. “I’m fine.”

  Dave puts a hand on her shoulder, bending his knees so he can look her in the eyes. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No one tried anything?”

  “No, I was just spooked. Guess the dead body and...” she pauses and looks up before continuing, “everything has me on edge.”

  “Hm, I’m going to check the perimeter before I head home.”

  Really, he’s heading home? Maybe all the soul possessing tired him out. It is nice that he’s making sure everything’s okay for Molly, but I wonder if he’s dodging the question about what’s been upsetting him lately.

  “Be careful,” I say to him.

  “I will.” He hugs me quick and then turns to go.

  With that, Molly’s zapped out of her stupor. Her eyes go wide. As soon as he’s outside, she pounces on me with questions.

  “Did Dave just hug you, Orla?”

  My cheeks burn. “Yes.” I can’t hold back my smile.

  “Oh...My...God!”

  “I know”

  “Tell me everything!”

  “You go first. Did Cormac explain why she couldn’t even text back?”

  “Well...”

  “Molly!”

  “We were a little too preoccupied for talking.”

  “Mol-ly!”

  She smiles, and I’m grateful that she was able to have a moment, but it’s a guarded joy. When will Cormac ghost her next? I smile back, but it’s not full. I don’t want to see my friend hurt again.

  All too quickly, her expression falls into one of concern.

  “What is it?”

  “I tried to warn her that I think she may be in danger.”

  “And?”

  “She left. No explanation, just an awkward moment, denial, and then gone.”

  An “I told you so” is the last thing my friend needs right now.

  “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  “It’s okay. Now, your turn.”

  “We did more than hug, and oh my goodness, it was amazing. We visualized kissing each other and then kissed each other for real. He was such a natural in the beginning, at least. It was like his soul’s been possessed before, like a million times, and he’s practiced how to handle it.”

  “I’m thrilled for you. Told you not to wait so long.”

  “Thanks, but it didn’t last.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, after a while, his secrets started flooding forward, and he couldn’t handle it. Thoughts of aggression popped up.”

  “Not exactly the easiest thing to tackle. Maybe give him some time to get comfortable with that one.”

  “I have noticed his anger increasing lately. When Russ accidentally bumped into me at the bar, I thought Dave might punch him. His jaw clenched with fury at the mere sight of Oliver.”

  “Can’t really blame him for that one.”

  “This is serious. I think it’s getting further out of his control.”

 

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