by Dale Mayer
Was she such a pathetic, horrible person? Just then she heard an odd sound. “Stefan?”
“I’m here. Give me a moment.” His voice strengthened to the point that it sounded almost normal at the end. “That was quite the trip.”
“What happened? Lissa said you’d gone off to save a little boy. Was that Eric?”
“Yes. The predator went to kill off the part of himself that was inside Eric’s body. Given his methodology that would likely mean killing the donor recipient at the same time.”
“A part of him was inside Eric? Donor recipients?” Fear seized her heart and squeezed. “Oh please, no. Please don’t tell me this predator, this nasty parasite, is my dead fiancé?” She shook her head as an awful panic swept through her. It was too horrible to consider. “No, I won’t believe it. That’s so wrong.”
“Why don’t you believe it?”
She shook her head. “Because he wasn’t like that,” she cried. “Peter was gentle. Besides, being an organ donor was something we were talking about. I was only fulfilling his wishes. Why attack those people? Why me?”
“Your eyes.”
She reached up to her eyes. “My eyes. So?” she asked in confusion. “What does that have to do with him?”
“That’s where he’s centered. The weakest part of your body. The easiest place to set up control. And the best location to kill you – given his options.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “What? That’s not possible. He loved me.”
“And that’s something else we have to get to the bottom of – and fast. He may have loved you at one time but he hates you now.”
She started to shake. The tremors began inside her body and slowly worked outward. “It can’t be Peter then. He loved me. If anyone would hate me it would be Caslo,” she whispered. “I sent him away. Locked him out of my life. He loved me. And I treated him like that.”
“Why?”
There was an odd note in Stefan’s voice, but she was too tortured to sort through it all. “Because it’s what he needed. And I loved him too much to keep him chained to my side.”
Her own wording brought tears to her eyes. She refused to let them fall. She’d done enough crying these last days. After a moment, dry eyed and hanging onto the threads of her control, she said, “And Lissa was right. After losing Caslo, my parents, and then my fiancé, I couldn’t let them go anymore. Let anyone go anymore. I was so lonely.” Tears threatened. “God, I’m horrible. I was keeping the ghosts around so I wouldn’t have to lose them too.” She shuddered then cried out, “I didn’t know that I was doing that!”
She heard a chair being moved back, then felt her own chair being turned. Stefan wrapped his arms around her. “What you did was instinctive and out of pain. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone. You just were trying to survive.”
“Yes.” She burst into tears and buried her face against his shoulder. She cried for the last few years of roller-coaster emotions and despair, of loss and grief and death and ghosts. When the storm abated she pulled back slightly and looked into his face, wishing she could see the expression in his eyes. Because she couldn’t she had to ask, “Do you hate me?” Her voice was tremulous and low but she got the words out.
“No, Celina. I love you. I always have.”
She frowned. “Always. You’ve known me what, a couple of d–”
And the predator attacked.
She screamed and fell awkwardly to the floor. Stefan caught her and laid her down on the wood surface. She clasped both hands over her eyes and sobbed once. Then screamed, rage and anger and betrayal spilling over. “Is that you, Peter? Are you the one doing this to me?”
The answer came in through her mind. Yes. It’s me. Finally, you know.
“You could have told me. Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?” Was there any pain like finding out the greatest love in your life was a fraud, and that instead of loving you he only wanted to possess you?
You killed me, and then not being satisfied with that you had me cut up into little pieces to live in endless torment.
What? she cried. I did not kill you. We signed those donor cards together. I never would have killed you. You died from a brain aneurysm.
I remember. And I also remember that you pulled the plug, he snapped, something ugly in his voice.
Whatever he was doing, he tightened the screw more. Her body twisted in agony.
I remember you screaming at me. You wanted me dead.
We were having an argument at the restaurant. I never wanted you dead. She didn’t know how to make him listen. We were at Chico’s, remember? We were at the same damn place you had that poor man drive through the restaurant. Were you trying to kill me then too?
No! But if it had happened then I would have been okay with that. Of course I knew what the location meant. But he was coming to thank you. You gave him my heart! I was afraid you’d know it was me behind this. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to suffer. Like I suffered.
“I didn’t kill you,” she said, sadly, desperately. We got you to the hospital right away, but you went into a coma and they said you were brain dead. Owen Dugar, the others, had all died because of him. Poor Owen. Poor Jacob. Oh dear God. All that pain… She said, still disbelieving, The doctors said you were dead.
Silence.
Then in that horrible, nasty voice he said, Guess what – they were wrong. My body was sectioned off into as many usable parts as they could take, and I could only watch helplessly. I blanked out there and only came to a few months ago – actually, I don’t know when I first regained consciousness, because there is no time in that existence. There is nothing but endless space. But I could sense more of me out there.
He gave a vicious laugh. And I woke up inside you. A captive inside the woman who’d killed me. And took my eyes. Talk about nasty. But it gave me an idea of what to do.
She couldn’t stop crying, but his voice pounded at her through her tears. I never held you captive. I don’t have your eyes or any part of you. I loved you.
He snorted. Lies. As a few of the recipients had died, I started to understand what was happening. As these people died, they ceased to be a drain on me, and I gained in strength. And I knew what I had to do. But it took time. And a lot of energy. Finally, I’m here.
Am I the last one? she asked painfully. Have you killed all those people whose lives were enriched because of the donation of your organs? Because I kept your memory in my heart.
I am all here now. There are a few tiny sparks of life out there, but they’re too small for me to grab onto. They are just wisps, like a memory I can’t quite reach out and touch. You might have tried to keep me trapped in your perfidious heart, but I escaped – and went to your weakness where I could tighten the screw.
Celina didn’t know what to stay. She could sense Stefan in her mind, listening in, but he was exhausted from saving Eric. Peter would kill him too if he could. Or at least burn out Stefan in the fight to take out Celina.
I can’t believe this, she whispered. Who could even know that this was possible?
I’ve lived this reality for too long. I’m not planning on killing you – at least not for a while, but I do plan on making sure you suffer for as long as I can. If I get a year, a month, or a week, it’s all a bonus. I’d wondered if I could have taken over your body permanently, but my energy is decaying. Slowly dying without something new to infuse it. I’ve tried so much and nothing changes, so as death was my ultimate wish, death is what I’ll get – but not until you have suffered for what you did to me.
She didn’t dare repeat that she’d done nothing. Her own guilt over the ghosts already plagued her. She’d been so happy with the organ donation she’d done everything she could to make sure they took everything. And now most of the recipients were dead. And that guilt was hers too.
No, Stefan whispered. That is not yours to own. That was his.
She didn’t want Peter to understand that Stefan was here.
&nbs
p; She wished she could turn time back and enjoy the gifts she’d been given, to have taken a different path with so many people in her life. Now at this moment in time grief for Caslo overwhelmed her. Talk about useless.
Maybe not, Stefan said. Love is the answer here, sweetheart. If you have a love for Caslo locked away inside your heart it’s time to let it out.
It’s not love but guilt, she cried painfully.
Or is the guilt hiding the love? Stopping it from coming out?
She wondered. She had to grow past it. She didn’t have to worry about calling Caslo to her – he was dead, but she’d stopped acknowledging the special bond they’d had all that time ago and – Stefan was right – the love they’d shared. She smiled, remembering the days they’d been inseparable. The plans they’d made. The stories they’d shared and their hopes and dreams. She’d been so lost, so broken when he was gone.
Now she could release the pain of what she’d done – for all the right reasons. And release the love to warm her heart and rejoice the time she’d been touched by his. He’d been special to her.
Her fingers one again clutched at the rock she still carried in her pocket. It had once been heart shaped and cracked in two. Her fingers stroked the broken edge.
Now love flowed. Flowed and poured outward from her heart.
Stefan whispered, Direct the love upward, honey. Send it to yourself, yes. But also to him. He’s lived a cold, endless life with no dawn and it’s warped his energy. He needs the light as much as you need the love.
Tears flowing, she followed Stefan’s instructions blindly. She waited for Peter to howl in rage and pain, but he didn’t. She sensed him there in the back of her eyes and sure enough, her eyes started to heat up.
But she was blind anyway. There was nothing more he could do without damaging the physical body he was now inhabiting. Maybe if she infused him with her own loving energy he’d feel the pain he inflicted on her. And that would be his own pain. She almost smiled, loving the thought of him getting a dose of his own medicine. He’d caused so many people pain, and here he was about to get his own. But she knew instinctively that was the wrong path to follow. She’d never have done this to the Peter she’d known. She hated that he’d suffered. Would have done anything to save him from such a fate.
What are you doing? Peter asked sharply. Stop that. It’s too late to save yourself.
Really? Well, now you are a part of me, so if you hurt me it will hurt you too, Peter.
So what do I care? I have been suffering already for a long time.
So have I, she whispered, her own heart opening up as she released the energy she’d clutched onto so tightly. Released the restraints she’d used to hold him close. So scared of being alone, of losing someone else, she’d hung on well past the time of letting go.
Easy. Keep up the love, Stefan said quietly. Don’t slide into pain or fear. He feeds on it and uses it to empower himself.
That made so much sense. Well, she’d had enough of being afraid. She’d had enough of being a victim. She had Stefan now, and she desperately wanted to explore the path that he’d opened up. She deserved it. She had so many broken dreams and crushed hopes littering her past. She wanted to start fresh and create something special. With someone special.
With him? Not likely, Peter scoffed. I’ll kill you now before you get to experience that kind of happiness.
And I forgive you for thinking that way. I forgive you for feeling that way. I forgive you for all the bad things you’ve done because I understand how hard this last year must have been. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would hurt you. No one could. She took a deep breath. I love you and forgive you and…I let you go.
Doing what she’d done to Caslo so long ago, she encapsulated his energy and booted him from her space. She immediately filled up the gaping hole in her head with as much loving abundant energy as she could. The last thing she heard was Peter’s long, lingering cry of Noooo.
Then she knew no more.
*
When Celina woke, it was to find herself pinned to the floor.
“Stefan?”
No answer. She could feel his breath again her cheek, but it wasn’t warm, active. Instead, like the rest of him, the air wafted out on the faintest of efforts. Panicked, she rolled over, crying out, “Stefan?”
“He’s lost.”
Celina glared at Lissa. This wasn’t funny. “What do you mean lost?”
“His soul is out on the ethers. Lost.”
“He goes into the ethers all the time. How can he be lost? He owns that space.”
Lissa laughed but there was a bitter edge to it. “Yes, he does. Or did. But he was trying to stop your asshole boyfriend from killing you, so he used his energy as a buffer between you two. In such a way that when you kicked him out, that part of Stefan – hanging on so tightly to the asshole – went too.”
“So what, you’re saying this is my fault?” Damn that ghost. She’d be happy to never see another ghost if this one would just be like the other ones. But she wasn’t. And would never be.
“It’s your fault if you don’t save him.”
Celina scrambled to her knees. “And how do I do that?”
“Call to him with your music, with your colors. Show him the way back to you.”
“No. You said that will cage him. I can’t do that to Stefan.”
“All psychic energy is determined by intention. If you don’t intend to cage Stefan then you won’t. But if you call to him because you are alone and afraid and fearful, then you will draw him to you to fill that void. You have to call Stefan with love and show him the way back to here.”
Celina winced. “And if I don’t love him? I’ve hardly even had a chance to get to know him.”
“You know him. More than you think, but once again,” she snapped in exasperation, “you won’t see.”
“See what?” Celina almost screamed in frustration.
“Let me try to bring it to you.”
And Lissa blinked out of sight.
Celina shook her head, bewildered, but the ghost was gone. She stared toward Stefan’s prone body. Maybe if she did what Stefan had shown her how to do it would work. She may not be sure of how she felt about him, but she really didn’t want him to die on her. She wanted time to explore what they had.
She slid her hand down his shoulders and arms to snatch up his hand and hold him in her lap as she knelt at his side. She started by calling to him, knowing it was useless but unable to stop herself. She had to consider Lissa’s suggestion. She’d do anything to avoid caging Stefan to her, but she had to bring him home.
Why weren’t his other psychic friends here to help? Then again, from the sounds of it they were all busy helping others.
It was up to her.
She opened her eyes hoping for some change in her sight. But there was only gray. As usual. And a deep ache, a burn. She closed her eyes again. Gently she replaced her hand on his chest, thought how to reorient herself in this place, and crawled forward to where she thought the guitar was. It took several moments before she found it. Snatching it up, she scooched back to sit beside him. She plucked a couple of chords. How could she play with the necessary emotion when panic tightened her throat and cramped her fingers? She rippled her practice notes by habit, feeling them relax against one of her favorite instruments. Where would she have been in all these months of darkness without music to lead her way?
That thought made her wince. She’d been a light in the never-ending darkness for the ghosts out there too.
She lifted her head, thinking about that. Music led her down the path and Stefan was a painter, so in theory he could follow the colors she’d paint home. And how could she paint a pathway for him? Slowly her mind, half-absorbed in thought, she watched the twisting fronds of color rise up and twine sadly in the air in front of her. She grimaced. That was likely to lead to his funeral, not a happy homecoming. Closing her eyes so she could see the colors easier, she added a lighter note, then an
other so there was a happy jig dancing, but realized that wasn’t going to work either.
“Don’t think about it – just do it,” Lissa urged.
Good advice. She pressed her fingers flat against the strings for a long moment, then thought about Stefan, calling out to him. Calling to him from a place of home – of heart. She smiled. “I might not love you yet, but I’m so on the edge I’ll be there in a nanosecond.”
She almost laughed as the words resonated with the haunting tune. She continued to weave all the reasons why he should return to her. All the reasons to come back to this life, to this reality, to what they were together. She didn’t realize there were tears in her eyes until they dropped down onto her hands.
“Ah, Stefan,” she whispered. “See what you do to me?”
She rejoiced in the joy of what they had, what they could have. The notes swelled with passion. She watched as vibrant colors braided into a strong, tight cord in front of her. She mentally pulled it back, winding it up so tight that it would launch as soon as she released it. She held it close in her mind’s eye, filling it with love and joy and peace and need. Need for him to return. Need for him to come back to her that they might be together again.
Then she let it fly, laugher bursting free as the rope flew out of her sight, out of the house, and heading toward her love.
Her fingers danced and stroked and kicked up the tempo, keeping the colorful road rippling forward. “Come back to me, Stefan, come back!”
For a long moment there was nothing, just the power of the music pouring from her heart.
Finally, in the distance the faintest of whispers drifted toward her.
Celina.
Yes, she cried, follow the path. I’m right here at the end of the road.
She played as if her heart were dying, her fingers moving so fast she was afraid the slightest thing would trip them up and the music – the pathway – would be broken.
Then suddenly he stood in front of her, his form glowing golden, vibrant and strong.
“I’m here. You can stop playing.”
“No, I can’t. You might disappear if I do.” Then the briefest touch of his lips brushed against hers and her fingers clanged together, the music jarring to a stop.
