Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  She squirmed away, and stood to look down over his hardened body. “I’ve never had anyone in my bedroom before.” Then she realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, I’m not a virgin, it’s just I’ve never done this before.” Her face flushed pink, and she thumbed the lock on the door. The bedroom had darkened to shadows. She wriggled out of her jeans, and when she came back to the bed, leaning over him, nothing but her bra and panties remained.

  “Here, let me help you,” she said, fingering his fly, and he stopped her hand.

  “Chelsea, playing’s fine, but if we go any further, I’m not sure I can stop.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t want you to.” And she eased the zipper down, sliding the jeans down his thighs, calves, and to the floor. He dragged her back up on the bed and into his arms.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brad’s gaze met Chelsea’s — she held him like a delectable fly trapped within a gossamer spider’s web, and he didn’t care, not one little bit. How did the poem go? “Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly. And he thought, yes, yes he would, even if it meant he was trapped. His hands moved over her smooth flesh, and he gathered her in his arms, pulling her tight against him. “You’re killing me, you’ll be the death of me yet.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Chelsea smiled, and stretched up to meet his lips. “I refuse to speak to you if you go ghost on me.” She laughed at her own joke. “The ghosts be damned.”

  Brad’s heart pounded harder as his hands begged to touch her. Her scent filled his senses, lured him, embraced him, sweet, fresh, like a spring evening. He inhaled her honeysuckle scent.

  The night broke across the sky and moonlight crept through the blinds to give him glimpses of her creamy flesh. She twined her hand in his and brought it to her lips for a gentle kiss. She pushed her fingers through the silky softness of his hair, letting it slip through her fingers. He leaned over her, trapping her lips in a lingering kiss. Chelsea clung to him, and he no longer cared about her weird ability or apparent insanity.

  He came up on his knees, her body snug between them, and peered into the oceanic depths of her eyes. “I could get lost in your eyes. The deepest blue I’ve ever seen.” His finger softly traced the contours of her face. His eyes raced back and forth over her flesh. His hands dug into the length of her auburn hair and lifted her head closer to his, and he breathed a sigh as he seized the cherry redness of her lips. Her head dropped back, and he tongued her lobe, kissed down the length of her neck, then lower to find the sweet hollow between her breasts.

  He stood, taking her with him, her back against his chest. He danced her across the room and she brushed her hands over his thighs. His hands reached around to cup her, his expert fingers peeking beneath the delicate lace covering, and she moaned. Brad’s heart hammered as his lips worked their way lower, and his hands lifted the lacy cups. Chelsea twisted around and his lips stroked the edge of her areola peeking from beneath the lace, his heart racing with fresh desire.

  Heat blazed between them and Brad felt the burn of her flesh, but he no longer cared. If this was death, he could accept it. Chelsea’s finely shaped fingers traced over his biceps, across his flat abdominals to find his maleness, making him harder. His hands curved around her ribs to release the clasp holding the lace firmly to her body. It slipped easily away, meeting her jeans on the floor.

  Brad stepped back to admire the sight before his eyes. Only a tiny vee of lace left to conceal Chelsea’s softened core. He held out his arms and she stepped into them. “You’re a feast.” To prove his point, he lowered his mouth to her ruby peaks, marbleizing them with his touch. One hand stroke her back, the other pushed the satiny lace aside, and entered the soft opening at her core. Chelsea stepped in closer, demanding more.

  “Lie down with me.” Brad’s eyes wandered over her body, ravenous for another taste of her creamy flesh. He walked her backward to the bed. Together, they fell across it.

  Chelsea pushed him back into the pillows, straddling his body. She kissed down his chest, her tongue encircled his tiny buds, evoking a sharp intake of breath. She stole a glance up to his eyes. His hand cupped her cheek and she smiled. She continued to the waistband of his boxers, tugging him free of the constraining fabric, leaving him bare. Her agile fingers wrapped around his hardness, guiding it to her lace covered vee. She slid back and forth over his arousal, until he grabbed her hands, the pleasure almost painful.

  “I have condoms in the drawer.” Chelsea waited for him to locate the condoms. “Here, let me. Dayglo. My sister sent them as a gag gift.” She warmed the condom between her hands, tearing open the package to reveal the turquoise colored condom. She rolled it over his length, letting her hands move back and forth before releasing him.

  He lifted her, and covered her body with his own. His fingers were impatient, ripping the lacy vee from between her thighs. She guided his demanding mouth back to her rosettes, and he tasted one, and then the other, groaning as he tugged on the reddened sensitive peaks. She caught her breath, her eyes found his and a mixture of need and desire flowed over them.

  “Brad, I need … . I want … ” she nibbled her lower lip, “ … all of you,” Chelsea begged as his hand slid between her thighs and his finger entered her. She fisted the sheet into tight balls as he circled her tiny bud until he felt every pulse of her heartbeat.

  “I need to feel you close around me.” Brad nudged her thighs further apart, and guided the tip of his maleness to her soft center. He entered her core with deliberate slowness, stretching her wider, and she tipped her hips forward to accommodate more of his hardness. He filled her gently at first, easing every inch into her body. When he was buried as deep as he could go, he pulled back, nearly leaving her empty.

  “No, please … ” she bit out, and she pushed herself over his long length.

  It was more than his patience could stand, and together they found a frantic rhythm, each taking and giving until there was nothing left. Their bodies twined together, crashing into the waves of desire, each cresting, so close. A tender warmness filled him, making him want to cradle Chelsea closer, to make the heat last, to wring every last drop of desire from her body. A cry fell from her lips, and she wrapped herself tighter around him, quaking with relief. Brad stroked her with renewed gentleness, bringing her again and again, until his own release was found, his throat raw from ragged breaths. Each panted with exhaustion, and Brad fell across her body, his limbs trembling from both the exertion and the strength of his release.

  “Will it always be like that?” Brad thought aloud, bringing a throaty laugh to Chelsea’s lips.

  “I hope so! That was … I’ve never … ” She colored with embarrassment. “There have been few lovers in my life.”

  He silenced her words with another hungry kiss. Though he’d just had her, he wanted her again, all that much more. He would never be sated.

  Chelsea sighed, gazing up into his stormy hazel eyes. She smiled, surely seeing fulfillment in their depths. He eased onto his side, arms and legs draped over her body, unwilling to release her, and he snuggled her closer. She nestled her head upon his shoulder. He played with her auburn curls as each regained their breath, heartbeats returning to normal.

  “I can’t let you go. I won’t,” he said, barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t care … about any of it.” He bent to kiss the top of her head, and his eyes drifted closed, spent.

  Chapter Twenty

  A mist surrounded Chelsea, and she flung her hands out in front of her, attempting to push through the foggy stuff. Whispers rang in her ears, and her hands clasped around them to stop the noise, her eyes too clouded to see. Where was she? The fog deepened and she began to panic.

  “Is anyone there?” she called in a quivering voice. She stepped backward until her back met a rough surface, hard and cold, grainy like cement. Her fingers scraped along the surface, sh
e stumbled around the space, but couldn’t find a door or window … maybe she was in a basement?

  She called again. “Why am I here?” The air shifted around her, the hard surface evaporated, and she stumbled, falling backward, before she caught herself. The first touch of icy coldness brushed the length of her leg. She sank down to the ground, and scooted along it, looking for an escape, her fingers investigated the slippery surface with nothing solid to grab ahold of. Chelsea wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them closer to her body. She was chilled to the bone, whether from the atmosphere or her own cold dread, she didn’t know.

  Then before her, a light glided through the fog. It came closer and she realized it was a candle, flame flickering, held by a disembodied hand, until a pale visage came into focus. The flame blazed in her irises. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes.

  “Girl, what are you doing here? This is no place for the living,” a voice croaked from the figure, rusty from disuse.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, eyes squinted against the brightness.

  “I’m the Watchman, the crosser of souls, and you shouldn’t be here … unless … are you ready to release your soul?” He stared greedily upon her body.

  Chelsea hugged herself tighter. “Where am I?” she whispered, and again she felt the brush of a cold touch, more than a single hand.

  The figure brought the candle closer, and she could see his craggy face. “You’re in the Inbetween, girl, the place where unclaimed souls come to find their way, after they escape their mortal existence.” He laughed insanely. “Are you trying to leave your mortality behind?” Again his greedy gaze explored her body and his gnarled fingers reached out as if to touch her. “Only one other living soul has come here … a long time ago now. But here you are, and if you’re not careful, here you’ll stay.” He leaned in closer and his crazed eyes crept over her body. His tongue swiped out, licking his pale lips to leave a glistening slickness. He cackled and waved the candle, and the icy touch fled in its wake. “They’ll be drawn to you, they want what you have. They’ll try to take you. You must leave.” His insane eyes rolled in their sockets, his head swiveled around.

  “Sure, just show me how, point the way.” The whispers grew louder now, she could feel the air shift as the others began to creep closer.

  The figure looked down upon her and flung his head back to release a gasping laugh, long stringy gray hair flowing out around him like a billow of smoke. He brought his mad eyes back to her face. “Girl, I show the way in, not the way out, you’ll have to discover that for yourself. Same as she did.”

  Chelsea had no idea what he was talking about. She only knew she wanted out.

  Now, the brush of many fingers drifted across her quivering flesh, attempting to cling with excited need. The whispering roared to fill her ears, like sandpaper scraping over already sensitive skin. She clasped her hands over them in an attempt to keep her waning sanity.

  “No!” She felt herself being drawn into a crowd of hands, poked, prodded, flesh tested for firmness. “Please, someone help me!”

  “There’s no help for you now, girl,” she heard as the candle’s glow moved further away. “They have you now, you’re theirs.” His mad laugh resounded in her ears. “If perchance you find yourself free, watch out for the others, the terrible darkness, greedier than these poor souls,” he warned before his light drifted farther away.

  As the crowd of coldness surrounded Chelsea, she fought, but they were too strong. Fingers enclosed her throat, her nose, caressed her lips, slithered over the bareness of her arms and legs. The last thing she heard was a piercing scream, her own, before she was pulled under, her body no longer her own.

  • • •

  “Chelsea!” Brad shook her with the force of a small quake. “Chelsea! Damn it, wake up!” Her skin was pale, feverish to his touch. What was happening to her? He gathered her body close, rocked her, his quavering fingers pushed damp curls from her forehead. “Please, Chels, come on, wake up.” Her body began to twist and jerk, her lips opened, but her eyes screwed tighter shut.

  “What’s the matter, baby, please let me help you,” he whispered against her ear.

  “No one can help me now,” she murmured from parched lips as tears fell from her closed eyes.

  He rested his forehead against hers, and spoke to the unseen forces of her nightmare. “You can’t have her, I won’t let you take her.” He pressed her closer. “Leave her alone!” His wild eyes roamed over her body, knowing he couldn’t let her go.

  “She’s mine!” he shouted to her empty bedroom.

  • • •

  As Chelsea collapsed under the press of souls, she heard her name being called from a great distance. “I’m here, I’m here!” she called back, but the voice didn’t come closer. “It’s no use,” she cried to herself. “I’m lost. No one can help me now.” She lost consciousness, only to come awake at the same time. She opened her eyes to the sound of Brad’s hoarse cry.

  “She’s mine!”

  “Okay, I’m yours,” her voice croaked, and she licked her dry lips. Her throat felt raw, like she’d been screaming.

  “Chelsea!” Brad squeezed her, relief apparent in his voice. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. “Cripes, you scared me,” he whispered.

  “It’s okay, it was only a dream.” She sighed from within the safety of his arms. “It’s gone now.”

  “Yeah, but will it be back?” he asked, and she shuddered.

  “I hope it never happens again.” Her flesh quivered all over her body as she buried her head deeper in his chest.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chelsea watched him dress. She didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want to stop him either. She sat in Great-Granny’s old rocker, feeling the comfort of the unseen surround her.

  “How soon will your grandmother be back?” he questioned, not meeting her eyes. They’d talked about his leaving — he didn’t want to leave her either, but he had to, if only for a few short hours.

  “She’ll be home in a couple of hours. I’ll be fine,” Chelsea reassured him.

  He stopped, and squatted down in front of her. “Has that ever happened before? Slipping away into an afterworld?” He cupped her face with his strong hands, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones, his eyes a storm of colors, never wavering from hers. They’d been avoiding the nightmare since she told him about it. “I can’t leave like this, I have to know you’ll be okay.” His eyes sought reassurance in her own. She smiled weakly and nodded.

  “Afterworld” was the only way Chelsea could describe it, a place where souls waited to be crossed over, or … well, no one said what happened to those found unworthy. Did they stay there forever? If that was the case, there would be some very desperate souls trying to escape that prison. It was horrible. The Watchman had claimed others waited in that hellhole of darkness, ready to consume those who refused to move on. All good reasons to never visit there again.

  Chelsea’s breath caught for a moment and she thought, I don’t want to lose him. But what if her weirdness drove him away? Then Brad leaned in with a gentle kiss, and rested his forehead on hers, waiting for an answer.

  “No, never, I didn’t even know any of this existed before a few days ago.” She gathered him closer for a hug. “Grams might know something, or maybe she knows someone who does. She and my Great-Granny were very close. Great-Granny would have shared her secrets, especially after … ” Chelsea hadn’t told him about her great-grandmother’s prediction.

  “After what?” Brad leaned back.

  She gathered her knees onto the rocker and wrapped her arms around them to pillow her head. “When you get back, I think I’ve told you enough of my weirdness for one day.” She smiled, catching his hand. She couldn’t believe he was coming back. That he was willing to try to believe. But when you’ve see with your
own eyes, it’s hard to deny.

  “I only have to get my laptop, cell charger, a few changes of clothes. If I didn’t need some of the files on my laptop … ” He’d said he wanted her to come back to Springfield with him, but she had things to do too. And one of them was waiting for Grams to return — they needed to have another talk.

  He stood, bringing her with him. “I won’t be gone long. Don’t do anything stupid or brave or anything while I’m away.” He winked and dropped another quick kiss on her lips. “Stay away from the ghosts.”

  “Count on it.” She walked him outside, and he bent and kissed her one more time.

  She watched until she could no longer see the jeep.

  • • •

  “I don’t know, Grams, it was horrible. I couldn’t get away, it didn’t feel like a dream,” Chelsea said between bites. “If Brad hadn’t been here, if he hadn’t called me … ” She shuddered. “I might have been stuck there, in that place, the Inbetween.”

  Her grandmother shook her head. “I don’t remember Great-Granny ever talking about anything like that. But she always said there was more to this world than Heaven and Hell. She talked about souls, saying those who couldn’t accept death became the lost, but she helped the families so they could move forward. It’s not only the souls who can become lost.”

  She paused for a few moments, thinking. “There used to be a woman, Great-Granny insisted we visit her … She lived all the way out in the woods. Rowena. Her family didn’t believe in city life, even what we have here. The police tried to force her family to send some of the children to the local schools. The next day, they were gone, uprooted, moved deeper into the wilds.”

  “Great-Granny said the souls were drawn to Rowena. She was one of the gifted. We drove for hours looking for the family. We finally found them in the Sangamon Valley River Basin. I could call a few old friends, see if they’re still live around here? Maybe this Rowena knows what I don’t.”