In the Midnight Hour

by Katrina VanBuskirk

  “I don’t mind,” Sarae said. “I’m on birth control, though, so you’re fine.”

  “I’m not taking any chances,” Remy said, putting it on. The last thing he wanted was something to go wrong, leaving Sarae to raise a baby alone. “And besides, if I don’t put one on, I’m going to come as soon as I get inside of you.”

  Sarae shivered with delight. Remy smiled at this.

  “I’m stiff as a board,” he said, bracing himself on his arms above her. “But I want to last as long as possible until you come again.” Then, supporting himself on one elbow, he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her close to kiss her. Her body rose to him.

  He wanted to thrust himself home in an instant. Instead, he gently entered her.

  As soon as his tip penetrated her, Sarae gasped, eyes going wide.

  Remy raised up from his kiss to watch Sarae’s eyes. “You like that?” he asked.

  She opened her legs to him. “Please.”

  He teased her with slow strokes, sliding in the tip, pulling out, sliding in a little deeper. She was tight, so tight. God, he just wanted to bury himself in there with hard strokes. It took all he had to hold himself back.

  “Is this okay?” Remy whispered back.

  “I’m getting used to it. Take it slow,” she said, stroking his face with her hand in a way that warmed Remy’s heart.

  She is a virgin, he reminded himself.

  He was going to make her first time something she’d never forget.

  His face was serious. “It’s hard to take it slow,” he groaned. “But I’ll do it for you.”

  “You’re just so wide,” she whispered. “You’re stretching me out.”

  Those words made him harder – if that was even possible.

  Remy slid a little deeper into her. Sarae rose to him, now urging him in.

  He grunted and thrust – and she winced at a twist of pain.

  “Oh,” Remy said softly, his eyes holding hers. “You’re not a virgin any more.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Just … hold it there for a minute. Hold it there.”

  It took Remy everything he had to hold himself and wait for her. He wanted to thrust and rock her hard. But he forced himself to wait, though he moved slightly back and forth, wanting more.

  Sarae’s heart thumped against his chest. She moved against him a little, adjusting herself to the thickness of his cock. And now her face unclenched, eased, and her eyes came open again. “Oh my God. You’re so patient….” And then she pushed against him with a sigh of pleasure, a sigh that went straight to his sex.

  Remy kissed her, their tongues sliding together, thrusting, until Sarae’s body pushed against him again, beginning to buck in rhythm.

  He stroked her, slowly going deeper and deeper. Soon his strokes slid home, each one burying his cock up to the hilt inside her.

  Now that he was all the way in, Sarae bucked up against him with every delicious stroke. They rocked against each other, each stroke filling her with his hardness. Every time Remy filled her, her skin hot against his, the tension built in him, and his excitement grew hotter and brighter.

  Sarae tightened her body against him, eyes closed, head thrown back, her sweet tits shaking with every thrust.

  Remy groaned and plunged harder, his eyes slowly closing as he slid home again and again. He gripped her tightly.

  Sarae’s body jerked. Her legs pulled him in hard against her body, and the pleasure broke in him at the same moment that she cried out. His voice joined hers, and now he thrust hard into her once, twice, three times.

  Remy’s body shuddered against hers as she arched like a bow. The flashpoint broke inside him and he reared back and thrust hard into her.

  They rocked against each other, their breaths harsh in their throats, but he kept going until she’d worked that orgasm out. And then, to his delight, he felt a second orgasm breaking in her again. Sarae tightened against him and groaned, shuddering one more time.

  When they finally subsided and their bodies quieted, Remy half collapsed over her.

  “Are you good?” he asked, gazing deep into her eyes.

  “I can’t see straight,” she said, panting for breath. “Oh my God, I had no idea ….”

  “Good.” Remy took off the condom, dropped it in a trash can, and collapsed at her side on the bed. He pressed his body up against her, nuzzling at Sarae’s neck, kissing her again and again.

  She brought her hand to caress his face as they pressed close.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve been lonely for a long time.”

  Remy laughed gently. “You just gave me one of the hottest times ever. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

  He kissed her. He wanted very much to make love with her again, much more slowly this time, but he was exhausted. It didn’t help that she’d drained his life force.

  Not that I’m complaining, he thought, lifting himself from his kiss to look tenderly down at her sweet face.

  “I wish you hadn’t been lonely,” Remy added.

  “After I lost my family, I just … hermited myself away,” Sarae murmured. “Didn’t want to see anybody, talk to anybody. Except my cousin. She’s the sheriff.”

  “Huh.” So that’s why Sarae seemed to know everybody at the sheriff’s office – how she got in so easily. “What happened to your family?” Remy murmured.

  Sarae exhaled. “Car accident. I was the only … survivor.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked and let them roll out.

  “I’m sorry.” Remy kissed her tears. Salty. He wiped them away, looking into her deep brown eyes. “My family died five years ago. House fire.”

  Her eyes came open now. “I had no idea.”

  “It’s how I got my owl. Overwhelming loss.” Remy stroked her hair, pressing his body against her side. He kissed her again.

  “How old were you?” she asked quietly.

  Remy left his lips pressed against her hair for a moment, breathing in the scent of Sarae’s shampoo, and the musky scent of her sweat. He tried to ground himself in the present, the warmth of her body, the strawberry smell of her breath, the feel of her hand on his temples.

  But it didn’t work. Remy was back inside the memory.

  Once again he was standing in the yard with the heat from the flames searing his face, crying for his mommy and daddy and little brothers that he’d never see again.

  He was an orphan. No family. The people he’d loved so much wrested from him in one hateful moment.

  They didn’t deserve to die like that. How did they die while Remy lived? It wasn’t fair. He’d always wished that he could have died in their place, just so his mommy and daddy could have lived. And baby Colin in his crib, and his little brother Mikey.

  They shouldn’t have died. Even after all this time, their deaths still felt just as incomprehensible as it did then.

  “I was seventeen,” Remy said into her hair, and his voice broke.

  “I was sixteen,” Sarae whispered.

  Sarae turned to face him in bed, her eyes all compassion, her hand stroking his face. She was still crying, but now she was wiping away his tears as he wiped away hers.

  “So that’s why you wear mirrored shades,” Sarae said. “For protection. So nobody can see the little boy that you were, the one who lost his whole world.”

  Remy stared at her. Then, with a groan, he gathered her to him and crushed her body against his. They kissed again, hard, reaching, probing. Then softly, more gently.

  “How did you know?” Remy asked when he loosened his hold on her. “How do you understand that?”

  “We all have to hide in some way,” Sarae whispered, nestling against him.

  God. How could he leave her?

  “I’m so tired,” she added, still whispering.

  Remy snorted a quiet laugh. “I am too. I hope you don’t mind if I fall asleep,” he said gently into her ear, nibbling at her earlobe.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Sarae said.
>
  Their lips met again. Then she stretched in his arms and curled up against his body.

  * * *

  Remy didn’t remember drifting off, but he suddenly realized that he was in a dream. Sarae was standing in the circle of his arms, looking around her, surprised.

  “What are you doing in my dream?” she asked him, fixing him with her eyes.

  “I was going to ask the same of you.” At least they were clothed. Remy didn’t recognize the house they were standing in – and didn’t know who would be walking in.

  “What is this place? Do you recognize it?” He looked around at a large parlor, decorated like something out of the 1980s with striped wallpaper and lace doilies on the orange couch and armchairs. A wooden-boxed TV sat in the corner. It had a bunch of photographs sitting on it of people he didn’t recognize, with poofy 80s hair, dresses with lace around the neck, and suits with wide lapels.

  “I have no idea,” Sarae said, looking around her. “This place feels like my grandma’s house. I just want to know how the hell we got here – both of us together.”

  But now Remy was staring hard at the photographs, because one face had jumped out at him.

  “Fuck,” he stated.

  “What?” Sarae asked, squinting at the photographs.

  “The pictures are of Heather’s family. And this is Heather’s old house,” he said slowly, trying to puzzle it out. “So this is where the mutilations began.”

  And as soon as the last sentence came out of Remy’s mouth – he didn’t know where it came from – his shocked eyes met Sarae’s.

  “Mutilations?” Sarae cried, looking around her in panic.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Is this something out of your past?” she gasped.

  Remy’s breath was going fast.

  “Technically, something in my very near future,” Remy said. “Because I think this dream has brought us to the place and time where it’s about to happen.”

  A new voice from behind them said, “Yes. You’re absolutely right.”

  Remy spun, but he’d already recognized the voice.

  It was Heather.

  Heather came walking dramatically into the room like a soap-opera queen – her face and hands smeared in dark red blood.

  Deep gashes criss-crossed her belly and chest. Blood soaked the front of her dress, dripping from its hem.

  “So nice to see you back here again,” she told Remy.

  Torture

  Remy’s arms tightened around Sarae as his nightmare made flesh walked toward him.

  “I see you two wasted no time in getting acquainted,” Heather said. “How nice.”

  “Remy, I need you to tell me what the hell is going on here,” Sarae said quietly from the shelter of his arms.

  “It’s not really that difficult,” Heather purred. “Is it, Remy?”

  Remy’s eyes narrowed. His arms tightened around Sarae, though he didn’t want them to.

  “I’m going to need you to leave,” he told Sarae.

  “I can’t leave this dream until I wake up, so that’s not going to do any good.”

  “No,” said Remy. “I mean … I need you to leave me. Leave me for good.”

  She turned, shock flashing into her face.

  “What in the hell are you even talking about?” she said stubbornly.

  “Now, don’t chase your beautiful friends away so quickly,” Heather said. “Though I can guarantee that Sarae is not going to listen to a word you say,” she added, her face going purple and blotchy, her eyes bugging out. “Are you, Sarae? Because I’ve noticed that you have a definite problem with listening.”

  “Maybe it’s how you say it,” Sarae snapped back at Heather, but turned to Remy. “What’s this crazy talk coming out of your mouth about me leaving?”

  Remy ignored Heather. “I was going to leave you after tonight,” he said into Sarae’s ear so Heather wouldn’t hear. “I don’t want you mixed up in this.”

  Sarae stared up at him, stunned. ”What? Mixed up in what?”

  “You don’t know what is coming for me,” Remy said. “Or why I left California to come to this awful place.”

  Except just then, Heather’s bloody hands grabbed Sarae by the nape of her neck.

  “That’s enough stupid talk,” Heather snarled.

  “What the hell, woman!” Sarae cried, struggling against her.

  Remy grabbed for her – but Heather, with the superhuman strength of the dead, yanked Sarae across the room in one huge leap away from him.

  “Oh, she’s mine now,” Heather crooned, grabbing Sarae in a headlock, her arm tightening in an iron grip around her neck.

  Sarae’s eyes bugged. She clawed at Heather’s arm, trying to pull it off, but Heather’s arm only tightened. Sarae’s mouth came open, but no breath passed through her lips. Then Heather hoisted her off the ground. Sarae’s feet kicked in midair.

  Remy stepped forward, singing up magic until strength in blue light rose to the surface of his skin. He walked forward after Heather who kept walking backwards, dragging Sarae, struggling, with her.

  “Let her go, you unhinged bitch,” Remy roared.

  “Now now, temper,” Heather laughed.

  Remy lunged forward and grabbed Heather’s arm, his hands glowing with blue power, and he fought to loosen Heather’s grip on Sarae.

  Heather’s eyes narrowed at Remy. “If I kill her now, then you won’t have to leave her. Wouldn’t that make it easier for you?”

  Sarae’s eyes, pleading, never left Remy’s eyes, but now the light in her eyes was fading. Remy fought harder to loosen Heather’s arm, but it was like trying to bend a steel bar. Heather smiled smugly.

  “Let her go. You’re going to kill her!” he cried.

  The light in Sarae’s eyes blinked out. Her head slowly sank onto Heather’s arm. Her arms fell loosely to her sides. Her eyes stayed slightly open, and her tongue hung out of her half-open mouth.

  “Aw, look at that, she fell asleep in my arms,” Heather cooed, looking down at Sarae. “No, honey, I shouldn’t give her to you.”

  “Let her go.” Remy’s hand shot out and gripped Heather’s neck and squeezed.

  Heather didn’t even flinch as he nearly crushed her windpipe in his hands. I’m a ghost, she said in his mind. I don’t need to breathe. You can’t hurt me here.

  Remy, almost wanting to cry, released her throat and tried again to loosen her arm. “What the fuck do you want from me?” he snapped. “What do you want?”

  Sarae’s head lay on Heather’s arm with her mouth open, her face turning blue.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want,” Heather said in that hoity-toity way of hers, viewing her work with evident satisfaction. “I’m dead. I’m just happy to see you here where I can fuck you over. And now I know that any time you get a woman, I can just walk into your dreams and kill her.”

  Heather opened her arm and flung Sarae from her. She collapsed onto the ground, unmoving.

  Remy scooped her up with a stifled sob. Breath rattled into Sarae’s lungs, but the blue in her face wasn’t going away.

  “Maybe she’ll have brain damage. I don’t care,” Heather said carelessly, waving a hand at her. “Now, Remy, be sure to tell Sarae, if she still has brain function after this, that this was for letting me touch that disturbance outside the cabin. Getting electrocuted hurts. So tell her that.”

  Remy forced himself to take a deep breath and try to pull his head together. If there was a time he needed to be logical it was now. All the same, he gathered Sarae close.

  “The disturbance that you touched … that was where torture had happened, right?”

  Heather snorted in disdain. “It was a side effect of the deer they sacrificed in the woods. The disturbance was where they pulled together the power of the dead deer and the torture victim.”

  They again. “So, who did they torture?” Remy held Sarae close to him. She was breathing. The blue was slowly fading from her face.

  “Why, they tort
ured Chloe, of course,” Heather said, her eyes opening wide in mock amazement.

  “What?” Remy breathed. “Chloe?”

  “Oh, yes, but I guess you were too slow to see that,” Heather snarked.

  None of this made sense. “So why didn’t you tell us this important piece of information in the first place? And who was torturing her?”

  Heather ignored both of his questions. “And you! I called you all this way, but instead of looking for my girls, you’re messing around with some ghost farmer and playing sorcerer at some house. And oh, you took a long break from searching for my girls because you wanted to fuck this little chicklet.” Heather flapped a hand at Sarae, whose face was still extremely pale. Her lips weren’t even a slight hint of red. “You’re all just fuckity fucking, and not even saying ‘Oh, maybe we should be looking for the girls who are being tortured right now!’”

  Heather’s face was going full-on splotchy.

  “So. Now. Where are the girls at?” Remy demanded, rising slowly with Sarae in his arms. This should have taxed his strength, but he found that she was easy to lift. This was a dream, that’s why. “Can you even tell us where the girls are? or are you going to get all self righteous on me again?”

  Now Heather was furious. “Self-righteous? You should already have found them!” she screamed. “You’re the Voodoo King! You’re the fricking genius here!”

  “How the hell should we have found the girls? You’ve been worse than useless. It would help if you give me something to go on,” Remy said.

  “They’re at the cabin!” Heather yelled, waving a hand behind her, and in her agitation a gout of blood poured from the slashes on her guts. “Go on back to the cabin! That’s where you should have been in the first place, instead of wandering off to go traipsing in the woods.”

  “So why are the girls being tortured?” Remy cried.

  Heather merely shot toward him again, her bloody hands outspread at Sarae.

  This is a dream, he reminded himself.

  So with a single bound, Remy sprang straight up into the air with Sarae in his arms.

  A Battle in the Spirit World