Haunt_A Grim Reaper Romance

by Tricia Barr

  —Until the inevitable crash that shattered the illusion, as well as my windshield, sending tiny shards in all directions. The fragments didn’t seem to know which way was up either, because they darted about erratically as the car bounced against the pavement, rolling with each landing.

  Eventually, my car’s momentum ran its course, and it skid ear-splittingly to a stop on its top. My head was so rocked by all the shaking and smacking it had endured, that it took me a moment to process what just happened.

  I was hanging upside-down in my seat, thankfully held in place by a very reliable seatbelt. My long dark hair hung down over my face to touch the ceiling of the car, curtaining my spotty vision from the wreckage around me. My ears were ringing, and every bone in my body was waking up from shock to alert me of its pain.

  All I wanted to do was roll over and let sweet unconsciousness take me, but I knew I had to move. I had to get out of the car right now.

  My limbs sluggishly obeyed my brain’s commands. My fingers fumbled around my waist to find the buckle of my seat belt, then pushed down on the button. The belt released me, and I fell awkwardly onto the upturned roof of the car, my forearms stinging as they pressed into broken glass. I rolled myself around until I was on my belly, then clawed my way out through the broken front passenger window.

  I didn’t care about the pain from my arms scraping against the pavement or the teeth of the broken window slicing through my jeans to taste the blood pounding through my shaky legs. I was determined to keep moving, to survive no matter what the physical cost.

  Finally free of the crushed soda can that was my once beautiful mustang, I stood up and reoriented myself. The highway was empty in both directions, and the dark woods around me sung with crickets. I had no idea which direction I had come from, or which direction to go now, but I had to make a choice. I needed to get to a populated area asap. Killian was somewhere in the shadows watching me, I just knew it.

  I picked a direction and started walking, frustrated to find that I was limping. My left ankle ached terribly, and I realized I must have twisted it in the crash. To be honest, I was lucky that I hadn’t been killed. But now, in this wounded state, I was even less able to physically defend myself, and it would take me even longer to get to civilization.

  I hadn’t taken two steps when I heard the roar of a vehicle coming up the road behind me. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the flash of headlights coming up over the horizon, and quickly growing larger.

  Oh, thank god, they can give me a ride to the next town!

  I stepped back to the edge of road and readied myself to wave them down. The vehicle was zooming closer to me, apparently going way over the speed limit, even for a highway. The speed made my pulse hike. Someone only goes that fast when they are chasing someone or running away from someone. Either way, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to get myself mixed up with them. Yes, I was desperate to get off this highway, but not enough to put myself in even more danger.

  My suspicions proved correct when the vehicle skidded skillfully to a stop and spun around in front of me. I stumbled backward, startled by the recklessness of the maneuver. The passenger door flew open.

  “Get in,” ordered the last person I wanted to see. Killian’s face was fierce, like a gladiator before battle.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I snapped, shaking my head.

  “Lorelei, dammit, I’m not the enemy here!” he shouted. “Now will you just get in the car!”

  “No!” I yelled, then broke into a run into the forest. My ankle screamed at me with each step, and I winced at the pain.

  The sound of the car door slamming preceded the crunch of his steps behind me, and I was almost crying with my desperation to get away from him. My injured leg just could not move fast enough, and strong muscled arms locked around me and tackled me to the thistle-covered ground.

  I wrestled out of his embrace, jabbing my right knee into his ribs and scooting backward as he recoiled. But he recovered quickly and continued to pursue me.

  Even now, after all this, I didn’t want to kill him. But he gave me no choice. It was him or me.

  I tapped into my spiritual sonar and locked in on his soul. I took one last look at his determined, gorgeous face, his cool gray eyes that were trained on me, then shut my eyes as I pulled the spiritual trigger.

  Something was wrong. I opened my eyes, and though Killian had stopped crawling toward me, he was still very much alive. I tugged on his soul harder, but it was like a rock, holding firm to his body. And it was so much larger than that of a normal human soul, expanding far past the physical limits of the body that carried it.

  Killian grunted with the effort to hold on to his soul, but the sound was petty, as if I had lightly punched his arm. He sent out some kind of spiritual pulse, and my powers lost hold of him.

  I gawked at him with wide eyes. “What are you?” I asked no louder than a whisper.

  “I’ll explain everything,” he said. “But right now, we have to go. I can’t hold them off much longer, they’re coming!”

  Just then, the woods around us rustled with a breeze that was not the wind. Whispers rose from the shadows that surrounded us, growing to a haunting chorus that sent all the forest dwellers scurrying in fear.

  I looked at Killian, and the look on his face as he scanned the darkness with a furrowed brow said that he was not the cause of this.

  Thick black fog billowed out from the bushes around us, and this time, I could see individual faces hidden within it. I was more aware of my spiritual senses than I had ever been, and I could feel that there was more than one presence at work here. There were dozens!

  The dead fog closed in on us, and spindly ashen hands reached out like claws to scratch at us.

  “Enough!” Killian boomed, and a spiritual pulse radiated out from within him, blowing away the black miasma in one powerful sweep and leaving us alone in a silent forest clearing. The force of his detonation pushed down on me, flattening me against the ground until it passed.

  Killian stood up and extended his hand to me. I looked at it for a moment of apprehension, trying to organize my scrambling thoughts and emotions.

  “Come on, Lorelei,” he implored, pushing his hand even more forward. “We have to go.”

  I had to trust him. I had no choice. I was wounded, and my poor car was totaled. If I rejected his help now, I’d be really screwed. And I had no more reason to distrust Killian. He had made those spirits go away with one push, something that seemed to require no more effort on his part than exhaling. I needed him, there was no more denying it.

  I accepted his hand and he pulled me up to stand on the ground. I applied weight to my injured ankle and it buckled beneath me with an involuntary groan. Chivalrous as ever, Killian reflexively put one arm behind my back and scooped the other under my knees, picking me up into his strong, sinuous arms. My cheek was pressed to his solid chest, and I couldn’t help but revel in its firmness against my soft skin. Here, I felt safe.

  He carried me through the trees until we emerged onto the blacktop highway. He brought me to the passenger door that was still open and set me down gently in the bucket seat, then buckled the seatbelt over my torso. He handled me like I was something precious, and as much as it humbled me, it also puzzled me on so many levels.

  He closed my door and went around to the other side of the car and got behind the wheel. He shifted into gear and drove on, accelerating very quickly and then holding steady at about ninety miles an hour.

  There were so many questions swirling around in my head, I didn’t know which one to ask first. My mouth decided for me. “Where are we going?”

  “To a lodge in the next town,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “As you might have noticed, they are less likely to strike in busy areas. At least, for now.”

  “What’s going on, Killian?” I asked. “I need answers. I need them now.”

  He turned to me, his gaze softening as it took in my fear-riddled countenance.
“I know,” he sighed. “I thought that I could keep you in the dark and keep you safe. But apparently, I can’t do either. When we get to the lodge, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

  He put his free hand on the top of mine, lightly, as if asking for permission. I turned my hand palm up and squeezed his, showing him that I accepted his gesture of comfort. It felt so good to hold his hand, especially knowing that in just a few minutes, he was going to explain all this to me. I so badly wanted to trust him. I hoped I wasn’t making a big mistake. But, again, what choice did I have?

  The forty-minute drive to the lodge was a silent and tense one. I was so tired, and after the beating my body took in that crash, it was time for sleep. But the air was so electric with the tension between us that my mind was wired like a coffee addict who just snorted cocaine.

  We pulled into the sleepy little parking lot of the log-cabin style lodge. I imagined that during snow season, this lot would be overflowing with the vehicles of skiers and couples hoping for a romantic getaway, but right now it only held four other cars.

  When I stepped out of the car, I was so skittish and paranoid about being attacked by those creatures again that I jumped and involuntarily yelped when Killian closed his door. He came up behind me and instinctively motioned his hand toward my back in a gesture of comfort, but then frowned and dropped his hand. He really was protective over me, wasn’t he? And all I had done was push him away. But with all his secrecy, how could I have known I could trust him? I still wasn’t super sure. All I knew was that I wished he would touch me. It had felt so good to be carried by him earlier. My body yearned for more contact, even more than it ached for sleep.

  We let the awkward moment pass us by as we walked to the lodge. Killian opened the door for me, ever the gentleman. The front door opened into a large, high-ceilinged room with comfy couches and carved-wood end tables all congregated around the grand fireplace in the center of the wall in a staircase. To the right of the entrance was an L-shaped desk, and behind it was a wall full of small cubbies, most of which held pairs of keys. There was a young woman sitting at the desk, and she looked up from her book as we walked to the desk.

  “Good morning,” Killian greeted the hostess. “Do you have any rooms available?”

  The young woman, who was probably in her mid-twenties, smiled eagerly at him, clearly appreciating his Greek-god good looks. “We sure do. Two beds or one?” She gave me an appraising look as she asked the question.

  “Two,” Killian and I said at the same time.

  “Wonderful,” the girl practically purred, then turned around and removed a pair of keys from a cubby behind her. “Right this way.” She wiggled out from behind the desk and sashayed in front of us up the stairs.

  With the way she eyed Killian like he was a rare piece of candy, I wanted to yank her by her pretty blonde hair and hurl her down the stairs. I had no right to be possessive of him, after the way I had treated him like a paddle ball, but the jealousy was reflexive and undeniable.

  “You guys are getting in pretty late,” the hostess said, trying to make conversation as she led us through the hall. When neither of us commented, she veered toward a different subject. “Breakfast is in about an hour, in the dining room to the left of the living room. Check-out time is at two in the afternoon.” She stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall way. “Here’s your room, and here are your keys.” She handed them to Killian, not even regarding me as if I didn’t exist. I wanted to punch her in the face.

  Killian accepted the keys and smiled at her politely, but not returning her flirtation. “Thank you,” he said, and then pushed past her to open the door of our room.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” the girl said. “I’m Jamie, and I’m here until eight.”

  “We’re good, thanks,” I said in a tone that said, “back off!” Then I grabbed Killian’s arm, tugged him inside, and slammed the door behind us.

  When I turned back to Killian, he was wearing that familiar amused smile, and for some reason it made me blush.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shrugged and, still smiling, said, “Nothing.”

  I took another step into the room and limped, hissing through my teeth at the pain in my injured ankle. Killian was at my side immediately, scooping his arm up under both of mine and ushering me to the bed. “Come here, let’s look at that leg of yours.”

  I sat on the plush comforter and brought my leg up. Killian sat next to me and began gingerly untying my laces to remove my shoe. Then he rolled my pant leg up to inspect my foot. He held up my leg a few inches off the bed and, gently cupping my heel, rotated my foot in all directions.

  “It doesn’t seem like anything is broken, and nothing is bleeding,” he said. “I think a tendon just got pulled the wrong way. It should feel better in a few days, as long as you don’t overwork the muscles.”

  I nodded, the whole time savoring his face as he was looking down at my foot. The way he handled my calf and heel, that light pressure from his fingertips, was swoon-worthy. I wanted to know what his touch would feel like everywhere. I didn’t pull my leg away when he was done examining it, and he didn’t reject it. Instead he placed it on his lap and softly rubbed his thumb across the top of my sock-covered foot. I would have closed my eyes in pleasure if he didn’t have them locked in his gray-green gaze.

  There were still important matters to be discussed, truths to be exposed, and I wasn’t sure if I could stay focused with his hands touching me like that. Reluctantly, I withdrew my foot and adopted a serious expression.

  “Alright, time to spill it,” I said bluntly. “Who are you? And what were those things back there?”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck in submission. “Let’s start with answering the first question. It’s going to be difficult to understand at first, but just try to keep an open mind.”

  He looked at me, waiting for some gesture of agreeability. I nodded, wondering what outlandish story he was about to tell me.

  “Your powers allow you to see the spirits of the dead,” he began. “You can feel spiritual energy, of both the dead and the living, and you’ve learned through unfortunate events that you can even rip the souls right out of living people.”

  My heart was pounding as he spoke. He really did know everything about me. How long had he been watching me? And how did I never know it?

  “I have the same powers as you,” he said. “Mine are now less powerful than yours, but I have had much more experience using them than you…because I accidentally gave them to you.”

  “What?” I blurted. “No, that’s not possible. I was born with these powers. I…I almost killed my mother as she was giving birth to me.” I had never said those words out loud before, and they constricted my throat as they came out, making my eyes sting with the threat of guilt-riddled tears.

  “No, Lorelei,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve always had that wrong. You didn’t kill her; you were the one who brought her back.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him questioningly, shaking my head inscrutably. “No, the hospital doctors brought her back. They worked for six minutes to bring her back. I don’t have the power to do that. All I can do is hurt people.” I averted my gaze as I confessed that last part. I hated that part of myself. I never asked for this power. All it could do was bring death and darkness.

  “That’s not true,” he argued. “The death-dealing part is all you’ve ever known, but you can save people. Your mother was your first. Her death during your birth was purely a result of the strenuous labor, it had nothing to do with your powers. The doctors did work for several minutes to try to bring her back, but they were about to give up, and her soul was on its way out. In your need and love for your mother, you reached out for her soul and pulled it back to her body at just the right moment. You’re the only reason she survived.”

  By now, I had learned to recognize when Killian was lying, and the fierce look in his eyes as he told me this was proof that h
e was telling the truth.

  I hadn’t killed my mother. The guilt over that belief had plagued me all through my childhood and adolescence. The relief at knowing that wasn’t my doing was so uplifting it nearly stole my breath. I wasn’t pure evil after all.

  And what’s more, Killian said that I saved my mother. I could resurrect the dead? I had never even considered that. Of course, it made sense now that I thought about it. If I could pull a sole unwillingly out of a living body, then surely, I could guide a soul back into a recently dead body. But would that really breathe life back into that person’s body? The implications of that were astounding! If I could learn how to do this, I really could help so many people as a doctor. I could make up for every life I ever took, and so much more!

  “Can you teach me how?” I begged, suddenly desperate to learn whatever Killian had to teach me.

  His expression grew somber, his pretty lips puckering in a sad frown. “Unfortunately, that’s just not in the cards for you, for us. I thought we would have more time. I thought I could hold off the inevitable, for just a few short decades, enough for you to really live. Enough for us to have one last chance. But it was my selfishness that started all of this, and you are the one paying the price for it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. He looked truly heartbroken, and I could almost see the future he had hoped for us shining in his window-colored eyes. I wanted to know what possibilities awaited us there. I wanted that future. Why was he saying that was no longer an option? And what did he mean by one last chance?

  “I am the Gatekeeper,” he said with a reverent tone, as if the title itself held profound weight. “All the people you’ve ever killed, you’ve noticed that their souls move on shortly after death?”

  I nodded.

  “Where do you think they go?” he asked.

  I cocked my head. “I really have no idea. I imagine that there’s some type of afterlife beyond this world. And I would hope that it’s pleasant, at least for people like my parents. Is there a Heaven? A Hell?”