by Lily Morton
“And what do you hear?”
I turn back to him. “Nothing.” I stare at him. “Can you hear something, then?”
He nods. “She’s snoring.”
“How do you do that?” I lean forward over the counter. “Sometimes they try and talk to me. I can see their mouths moving and nothing. It’s like they’re miming.”
“You’re too agitated,” he says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “You draw them because you’re a bright light and full of energy, but it’s the wrong kind.”
“Wrong?”
He nods. “It’s a passionate and jumbled mess. Like a storm.”
“Oh lovely.”
He gazes at me. “You need to learn to be calm and focus. They’ll still come to you, but you’ll hear them and control the situation.” I stare at him and he shrugs. “It’s like you have your fingers in your ears and you’re shouting. Be still in your mind and mouth and you’ll do it.” He nods at the woman. “Try it.”
“Try what?”
“Breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose. Ignore everything else and just listen. You’ll tune into her when you do.”
I look at him doubtfully and then turn to the woman. She’s sleeping peacefully, her mouth slightly open and a book balanced on her lap. I do as he says and try to ignore everything. It’s easier here in the quiet of a bookshop. I breathe in and out through my nose, concentrating on the breaths. For a second there’s nothing and then there’s an audible pop and the smell of burning, and I hear her. Faint rumbling snores and the catch of her breath at the end of it.
“Oh my God,” I shout out loud. “Oh fuck, I did it.” The ghost jerks and flickers, and with an angry glare at me, she pops out of sight.
Tom sighs loudly. “Well, that’s just brilliant. The old bird’s cross now. When you come in tomorrow, all the books will be on the floor waiting for you.”
I stare at him. “Why the emphasis on me?”
“Well, you’ll be shelving them,” he says grumpily. He can’t quite hide the smile though. “How do you feel, lad?”
“It’s bloody amazing.” I stand up and start to pace. “So if I do that every time, I’ll hear them?”
“Not always. Sometimes you can’t no matter how hard you try. I think that’s down to them and not us. You should try yoga. The breathing and the focus might help you.”
“Is that what you did?” I’m trying not to imagine him in yoga clothes.
He grimaces. “Bloody hell, no. Can’t be doing with that hippie nonsense. I just concentrate and don’t talk. It’s a dying talent in your generation.”
I ignore him. “So, I could hear Rosalind if I tried?”
“Not yet,” he says quickly. “You’re not ready to try that, lad.” He leans forward urgently. “I don’t want you trying anything in that house yet.”
“Okay,” I say faintly. “But I need to help Levi.”
“I know, Blue,” he says gently. “But not at the expense of yourself.”
He leans under the counter and pulls out a bundle of what looks like herbs tied together.
“What’s that?” I ask curiously, sitting down to pick up my food again.
“Sage. You light the end of it and walk through the house burning it.”
“Why? Is that some sort of dark art ritual? Oh, will Levi and I have to be naked?” I ask enthusiastically.
“God help me,” he breathes. “No, it’s not a satanic ritual. It cleanses the house. You need to do that until you’re a bit more confident about your abilities.” He looks hard at me. “You being in that house has been worrying me.”
“I knew you cared,” I say smugly, finishing my cob and thinking longingly of eating another one. His mouth quirks and he pushes his own towards me.
“I’ve had my breakfast,” he says nonchalantly. I narrow my eyes, and he grins. “Silly old me. I must be getting senile. I completely forgot about it when I asked you to go to the bakery.”
“Hmm,” I say, but it doesn’t stop me tearing into the food.
“You staying with Levi for a bit, then?” he asks innocently, sneaking a look at me.
I grin and watch his moue of distaste as my mouth is full. I swallow and nod.
“Just for a bit until we’ve sorted him out. Then I’ll be off. I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”
“I didn’t get the impression the lad was like that.” He shrugs. “Seemed like a kind boy.”
“He is,” I say darkly. “Too kind.”
“For you?”
The question makes me jerk, and I look at his sharp eyes. I consider it for a second and then shrug. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I stare at him in astonishment. “You know the sort of people I hung around with, Tom. I know you remember Spud’s shop and the readings because I saw you shouting at him one day, and you kicked Fay out of here many times.” I pause. “Why not me?” I say slowly. “You never kicked me out.”
He takes a sip of his drink. “You weren’t like them,” he says simply.
“How did you come to that conclusion? I’m exactly like them.”
“No, you’re a kind boy who got caught up in stuff you shouldn’t have because you knew no better. You’ve got a conscience, lad. Albeit one whose voice must be hoarse with shouting and screaming to be heard. It’s permanently exhausted, but it’s still there.”
I nudge him. “Who knew you were so funny?” He looks at me, and I wink. “I mean it. Who did know?”
He shakes his head, but he can’t hide his smile. Then he stares at me. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything before. I didn’t realise that you were homeless.”
I stare at him in astonishment. “Why would you?”
“Blue, you break my heart,” he says softly. “The question should always be why didn’t I know that, not why would I.” He breathes in, as if preparing for battle. “I’m not one for mushiness.”
“Thank God,” I breathe.
He nods. “I’ll just say this. That when you decide to leave Levi …”
“I’m not with him.”
“Oh really,” he says innocently, and I glare. “Anyway, where was I before I was so abruptly interrupted by a member of the rude generation?”
“I’m not sure how you can even say that without breaking into hysterical laughter.”
“Anyway,” he says loudly and quickly. “When you leave him, I don’t want you back on the streets. I’ve a flat at the top of the book shop. You can have that. It has a thick door so I won’t be subjected to any of your aimless prattling and at least you won’t be dead on a shop doorstep.” We exchange glances, and I swallow hard which makes him look panicked. “And we will never speak of this again,” he warns me.
“Okay,” I breathe fervently and we nod at each other in perfect accord.
Chapter 10
Blue
I hurry down the cobbled lane, the cold wind pinching at me with icy fingers. I pull my coat around me and smile as I see home all lit up warm and welcoming. I come to a stop, ignoring the cold. This is not my bloody home, I remind myself, and my inner voice sounds positively shocked. Get that thought out of your fucking head now.
Home, the voice scoffs and I nod. It is ridiculous. It’s a home, alright, but I am never going to forget that it’s Levi’s and not mine.
Nevertheless, I pick up my speed. My stomach gets light and squirmy as I use my key for the first time to get in. I smile down at it. It’s shiny and all mine. A key to a house. I shake my head and put it carefully away in my mum’s wallet before shrugging off my coat and hanging it on the hook.
The house is toasty warm and smells gorgeously of something cooking. “Levi?” I shout.
“In the kitchen,” he calls.
I wander into the room which is warmly lit. The blind is closed against the night and one of the wild fig candles that he loves so much is burning on the breakfast bar. Pans are bubbling on the hob, and I sniff appreciatively.
“Oh my God, what are you cooking?” I groan.
&nbs
p; He grins at me. He looks appetizing himself, barefoot in a black T-shirt and a pair of ancient jeans that appear to be held together by willpower. “It’s gnocchi with a tomato sauce,” he says. “Nothing very complicated.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
Levi shrugs. “My mum taught me. She was very insistent that I know how to cook. Said no son of hers would be useless in the kitchen.”
He smiles, but it has that soft edge to it. A downturn to the full lips that happens a lot. I look at the dark shadows under his eyes anxiously. He doesn’t sleep well. Even accounting for this fucked-up house, he still tosses and turns in his sleep. It’s so obvious that he’s mourning but Levi doesn’t realise. He thinks he’s moved on. I watch him tenderly as he stirs something in the pot. He’s going to reach a breaking point soon and I’m going to be here for him.
He chuckles, distracting me from my shockingly fervent thoughts. “What is it?” I ask.
“I was just thinking of Mason. He couldn’t cook to save his life. He once started a fire in the kitchen because he let a saucepan burn dry.”
“How silly,” I say, gritting my teeth at the mention of Mason. He’s another fly in the fucking ointment. Levi doesn’t mention him much, but he must be thinking of him. Five years is a long time to be with someone, and from some of the things Levi’s dropped about him, Mason appears to be both funny and successful. He was at college with Levi and features in a lot of his stories.
I also saw a photo of him last night when Levi was looking through a box to find something he needed to frame. The stupid bastard is good-looking too, with dark hair and a slim build and a big smile. Just the thought of him makes me feel less because I am none of those things, being scrawny, and a walking fucking disaster.
I stare at Levi. But I’d still treat him well if he’d let me. What sort of idiot had Levi in their life and fucked it up? If he’d been mine, I’d—
I break off the thought very quickly and rub my hands together. “Shall I lay the table?”
We eat at the little table in front of the window. I fall further into some sort of quicksand. It’s just so good to sit here together and make him laugh with my ghost-tour stories. To see his tired face light up and know that later we’ll climb the stairs and get into bed with one another.
I know I should be in the other room, but Levi was very stubborn last night, insisting forcefully that I couldn’t stay in there, and I’d agreed, not just because of what happened in the room, but mainly because I love lying in bed with him feeling warm and safe and lit up from the inside.
I want him so badly. It’s a constant fluttery feeling in my stomach and it spreads so that sometimes when I’m near him I think I must be glowing. However, it’s not going to happen yet. If at all. He’s seems set on keeping boundaries between us and I’m torn between thinking that it’s either to give me a safe place or to keep me at a distance.
I come awake in the middle of the night as fingers slip through my hair and down my face. They’re fucking freezing and my first thought is that Levi needs to warm his hands. My second thought is pure joy because he’s finally making a move. My third thought is Oh shit. Because as my brain sharpens, I realise that Levi’s hands are actually around my waist. He’s snuggled up behind me, snoring gently.
I open my eyes warily. What the fuck just touched me?
The room is filled with moonlight and the shadow of the tree outside moves on the wall opposite the bed. There’s nothing here that’s out of the ordinary.
Then I hear the crying. At first, it’s very soft. Gentle hiccups of grief that barely disturb the air. Then it gets louder, and, even as I sit up, the cries fill the air in a raging torrent of grief. Sobbing and wailing until I want to put my hands over my ears.
“Please stop,” I whisper.
I glance at Levi. How is he still sleeping so peacefully?
I look around the moonlit room again and can’t stop my instinctive jerk when my gaze lands on the woman sitting on the end of the bed. She’s darkly shadowed, and her long hair hangs over her face as she leans forward, her shoulders shaking.
“Hello,” I whisper.
She carries on crying, only now it’s completely silent, like I’m looking at her through a wall of glass. I get out of bed slowly and wince at the coldness in the room. My nipples tighten into raised nubs under my T-shirt and I wrap my hands around myself, seeing my breaths crystallise on the air. This is not normal.
I shake my head at the irony. The fact that a ghost woke me with a creepy touch and is now crying at the end of our bed is not the weird bit of all this. The weird bit is that Levi Black’s house is cold right now. The man is obsessed with making sure that I’m warm, to the extent that he pays more attention to the temperature than a hibernating hamster.
I edge closer to the woman. She continues to cry silently, her hair a dark curtain over her face and her shoulders shaking in a paroxysm of grief.
“Rosalind,” I say warily. “Rosalind, is that you?”
I backpedal with a loud scream as her head shoots up. Where there should be a face is nothing. Just black, moving shadows.
She raises her hands to me imploringly and blood drips from them, falling and landing on the carpet in splots that shine sticky and dark in the moonlight. She rises, her movements so quick and jerky that I shout out again.
The light clicks on, and I turn to find Levi sitting up and staring at me sleepily. There’s a pillow mark on his cheek and his eyes are bleary.
“What’s going on?” he says, his eyes sharpening. “Blue?”
I point a trembling finger. “Can’t you see her?”
My hand drops, dead weight. Where the spirit had been is nothing.
“She was just here,” I say wildly. “She had no face.” I cross quickly to where she was sitting. “There was blood,” I mumble, looking down at the carpet. It’s pristine now. “B-But,” I stutter. “She was here.”
“I believe you.” He throws the covers back and comes to my side. He pulls me into a hug and I nestle into him, burying my head in his neck for a second and inhaling the warm, sleepy smell of his skin.
After a few minutes he pulls back and brushes my hair from my face. There’s a tenderness in the gesture which is so alien to me and so typical of him. He always treats me with care. It makes my teeth hurt with the wish for it to carry on.
“Alright now?” he asks softly.
I nod and scrub my hands down my face. Exhaling slowly, I feel calm settle on me now that he’s awake and with me. It’s bloody nice not to be on my own with this shit.
Always before, I’ve curled into a ball and pulled my sleeping bag over my head, enduring the nights when spirits have silently raged at me. To have someone stand with me is weird. But nice.
“There was a woman weeping at the end of the bed,” I say finally.
His mouth twitches. “Not something that’s ever happened to me before.”
I give a soft snort of laughter, to my surprise. “Well, she was there.”
“Was it Rosalind?”
I shake my head. “I thought it was, but I was wrong.”
“How do you know? Didn’t you say she had no face?”
I tap my fingers gently against my teeth, thinking hard. “I just know it wasn’t her. This one was thinner, and I got the impression she was young.” I shrug. “Who the fuck knows?”
“You do,” he says firmly. “Don’t doubt yourself. Tom said you were powerful. I think you’d better start believing it.”
“But if she wasn’t Rosalind, then who was she? What other spirits are here?”
“Maybe we’ve got a house full,” he says thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the problem.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but I think we need to do something.”
“Would that something be to drink ourselves silly?”
I snort. “That sounds very attractive, but no. We’re going to do some smudging.”
“We’re going to do some whatting? Is that some so
rt of sexual kink I’ve never heard of?”
“No.” I laugh. “Very far from it. We’re going to light a smudging stick and purify the house.”
“Okay, my life has just taken a very strange turn. Can I think about this?”
“No,” I say firmly. “We need to do it now, Levi.”
“Why?”
“Because that frightened me,” I whisper, feeling a sudden certainty that whatever is in this house is listening and shouldn’t hear this. “I think it was meant to scare me too,” I continue. “That woman was sent to me, and that’s sufficiently worrying that I don’t want to go to sleep until we’ve sorted out protection.”
“And this smudging is protection?”
I nod.
He sighs. “Okay, we’ll smudge, but I’m going to get dressed. I’m not comfortable smudging in my underpants.”
I laugh. “So says every smudger.”
“Is that an actual thing?”
I watch him pull on some soft-looking grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, secretly mourning the loss of the view of him in his boxers.
“Blue?” he says.
I jump. “What?”
“Get dressed,” he says, looking me up and down where I stand in my briefs and his T-shirt that I refused to relinquish, and this time I know I’m not imagining the heat in his gaze. My cock stirs and I leap into action, pulling on my own sweatpants and leaving his shirt on. It still smells a little bit of him and that gives me strength.
When we get down to the kitchen, Levi moves automatically to switch on the kettle. I repress a smile. It’s almost his default setting to make tea in any emergency. I sit down at the breakfast bar and open his iPad.
“What are you doing?” he asks, bustling around and setting mugs out.
“I’m looking at YouTube.”
“Why?”
“To watch videos on smudging.”
He stops what he’s doing. “You’re watching a YouTube video on how to purify my house from vengeful spirits?” I nod and he shrugs. “My life is very weird.”
“Tell me about it.”
I choose a video and press Play. Levi sets a mug at my hand and peers over my shoulder. We watch the video of a woman going through the smudging process as the wind howls outside the kitchen window. When it’s finished, I close the video.
