An image of Tor came into her head, of the last time she had seen him, just over a year ago. That lopsided smirk, that joke he always threw at her— Any relation to Lucy? The way he laughed, the intensity of his eyes, the way his chin set firm when he was concentrating. How she had ached to see the way his eyes would glaze and his jaw would tighten if she was touching him, pleasuring him—
Was he ever going to come in?
She suddenly realized she was staring at the door and broke her gaze. Vika stood and turned to go into the kitchen, seeming unfazed by her brother’s lack of appearance.
“Has he gone upstairs?”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t him,” Vika threw over her shoulder. “That was just the vardøger. ”
A sudden chill ran down Kala’s spine. “The vardøger? What’s a vardøger?”
Vika didn’t answer immediately. The fridge door opened and shut. She went to stand in the kitchen door, watching Vika as she began to lay chops out on the grill pan.
“What was that, if it wasn’t Tor?”
“You heard it yourself.” Vika slid the grill pan into the oven and lit the gas. “It opened the door and came down the hall. Like Tor will when he gets here.”
“Okay… But what—”
Smiling, Vika turned to face her, leaning back on the countertop.
“Okay. A vardøger is like a ghost from the future. What happens is what you heard. You hear the sounds of whoever it is coming home, doing whatever they do—keys, whistling, slamming the door, coming up the hall—then it stops. And about twenty minutes later, the real person will come home and do the exact same thing.”
Kala blinked.
“And…that doesn’t bother you? That a ghost just came in the door?”
“It’s not that sort of a ghost. Think of it as an echo, if you like. But you’ll find a lot of people have them and nobody’s scared. It’s kind of handy. It means I can get the dinner on, since now I know he’ll be here in twenty.”
“…right.”
Kala stood for a moment, thinking, as Vika turned back to the oven. It sounded utterly incongruous. A ghost that told someone what time to start dinner? That was just plain weird. Ghosts were supposed to be scary, not helpful with household scheduling.
I hear Norway has a great paranormal history…
Wait.
“So, this is a Norwegian thing, specifically?”
Vika paused, saucepan in hand.
“Ah. You’re thinking story?”
“It sounds like what Mack’s after.”
“Okay. You might have to do a bit of research. I don’t claim to be an expert. I think it’s Scandinavian rather than specifically Norwegian. But yeah, I think you could get a good story out of it.”
Kala nodded slowly, watching as Vika continued preparing the meal.
Research. Internet. Maybe some stuff in the local library—could be some older stuff dealing with Scandinavian myths. Or maybe Vika knows some people I could talk to. Always helps to have quotes.
She realized she was standing around like an idiot while Vika was doing all the work. “Do you need anything doing?”
“You can chop the carrots, if you like.”
Up to her elbows in dinner preparations, it seemed like only a few minutes had passed when the door slammed again. Her stomach tightened.
“I take it that’s actually him this time?”
“Oh, yeah.” Vika glanced up from where she was checking the grill. “It never happens twice.”
Kala grabbed a towel from the side of the sink, where she had been washing her hands, and started to dry off just as the kitchen door opened and Tor poked his head in.
Oh, God.
He was just as Kala had remembered—tall, dark, loose-limbed, with that cheeky grin and look in his eye that just made her want to melt. Kala froze, struggling to think of something intelligent to say in the face of immediate tongue-tied stupidity.
“Hey, ladies. Not seen you for ages, Kala. Or is it Lucy?”
“Always the same, Tor,” Kala threw back casually, hoping her voice didn’t sound as breathless as it had in her head.
Tor laughed that dirty laugh that electrified all Kala’s nerves, and turned to Vika.
“Any chance you could just make me a sandwich, Vika? It’s been a hell of day and I’m fucked. I’m going to get an early night.”
Kala forced her face straight, but inside her heart sank.
Well, that’s a shitty start if he won’t even eat dinner with us on my first night.
“Sure,” Vika answered.
“Cool. Catch you later.” And with that, Tor was gone.
Kala turned back to face Vika, who was laying out plates on the counter, and struggled to rearrange her thoughts.
Okay. Tomorrow I’ll start work on the vardøger article. I’ll see if I can interview some of the neighbors and maybe wait for it in the evening.
And forget about Tor, apparently.
Although that would be much harder.
Chapter Two
#xa0;
Standing at the end of the hallway, her back pressed into the coats hanging on the rack, Kala clutched her phone in one hand and wondered, not for the first time, if this was going to work.
This was definitely the time the vardøger was due. Tor had texted Vika to give his leaving time, which meant he should be home in about twenty minutes. So, the vardøger should be making its appearance soon.
If it made any kind of appearance at all.
“Have you actually seen it?” Kala had asked.
“No, I just hear it in the hall. I’ve never gone looking for it.”
“But you’ve never happened to be in the hall when—”
“Nope. Sorry. I’ve no idea what it looks like. You’ll have to stake it out.”
And so here she was, waiting around in the hallway like a loose end for a ghost. The things I have to do for a story.
She’d spent the day gathering information from Vika’s friends and neighbors. It had been only somewhat useful.
“Oh, yes,” Hayley, the next-door neighbor, had said cheerfully over a glass of aquavit. “It comes most nights.”
“Most? Not all?”
Hayley had cocked her head to the side, thinking. “On the nights when my husband leaves unexpectedly, it doesn’t. Only when he knows what time he’s leaving.”
Interesting.
“When did you first see it?”
Hayley had paused. “Ever? I can remember seeing it as a child. Then it was my father, of course, coming home from work. I remember being scared, but my mother was completely calm. She’d seen it all before.”
Kala had hoped for more anecdotes like that, but most of Vika’s other friends had just corroborated what she already knew. About twenty minutes ahead of their husband. Kala had wondered if the phenomenon was specific to men, but so far hadn’t found anyone with a different arrangement to discuss it with.
And again, nobody had actually seen one. All Vika’s neighbors had separate hallways with doors at the end, so the vardøger was always concealed. Nobody had an open-plan living space, nobody had happened to be in the hallway when it arrived, nothing.
God only knew what this thing looked like, if it looked like anything.
She glanced down at her watch again, then her breath caught. She hit the Record button and held up the phone toward the door.
Keys were jingling outside.
It’s here.
The lock clicked and the door handle began to turn.
So, it’s not just sound. It’s opening the door.
She held herself very still, watching over the top of the camera as with a squeak the door opened.
And nothing was there.
Footsteps—one, two, three. The door slammed shut and Kala forced herself not to jump. There was something unnerving about a ghost that moved quickly. These things were supposed to creep up on her, not barge their way in.
But this was an echo of Tor and so it moved like him. Only, she
could still see nothing.
More footsteps, now approaching. Kala stiffened.
Don’t be an idiot. It’s not going to do anything. It’ll walk up the hallway like last night and disappear.
But still—it was coming toward her and she tensed.
Closer.
Closer.
Then her breath rushed out of her in a gasp when an unseen pair of arms caught her around the waist, tugging her forward.
The movement threw her head back and her body hit something firm—another body—before something, something, met her mouth in a kiss.
Then, as heat flooded through her, as her eyes fell shut, the other body was gone.
* * * *
Kala sat in front of Vika’s harp, moving her hands over the strings, idly playing while her mind whirled.
Why did it do that? Why?
She broke into Greensleeves, trying to push away the other question that was nagging at her brain.
Why am I up here, when I could be waiting in the hallway to see if he actually will kiss me?
Because she was certain it had been his kiss.
But the thought of trying to explain to Vika why she was hovering in the hall made her cringe. And what if she did find a reason to wait and he didn’t? It would be embarrassing as hell.
And she couldn’t tell Vika what had happened. Or Tor. Every inch of her recoiled from the idea.
She focused on the harp for a few minutes, letting her mind clear. The silvery notes seemed to float in the air, soothing, calming. Peaceful.
Then from the doorway came the scuffling of feet.
Without stopping, she slid her gaze sideways. Tor was leaning against the doorframe, watching her play.
He must have arrived home without her hearing him.
Her body prickled with heat, her skin burning under his gaze. Kala kept her eyes on the harp, letting her fingers pluck at the strings, conscious of every movement.
He’d already left for work when she had come down for breakfast that morning and he had disappeared so fast the night before. This was the first time she had really seen him since she had arrived and it was unnerving to realize that he still had that same effect on her.
He always would. She found herself arching her back as she played, displaying her body to him, wanting him to want her too—
Give it a rest. It’ll never happen.
The song ended. Kala glanced over to the doorway but didn’t bother to feign surprise at seeing Tor there. Tor looked straight back at her, a half-smile on his face, as though he had known all along she had been aware of him.
“Good to have you here.”
“Good to be here.”
Tor pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Vika says dinner’s nearly ready,” he stated over his shoulder as he turned to leave.
“I’ll be right down.”
Well, he certainly hadn’t tried to kiss her then.
Which made things so much more confusing.
* * * *
“So, what’s your next plan of action?” Vika asked.
Kala paused, fork in the air, as she considered her answer. Across the table, she could feel Tor’s eyes on her, but she made a point of not glancing in his direction. It was too risky.
She hadn’t told either Vika or Tor what had happened. Yeah, it opened the door, but I couldn’t see it. That was true enough, after all.
But it had kissed her.
That didn’t fit anything she had heard. Vardøgers didn’t interact with people. They were supposed to be a forerunner of someone’s arrival, not an active spirit.
But if it was actually active, then maybe…
Before she had come down, she had emailed Mack, carefully editing the events, and his response had been brief.
Try holding a paranormal investigation with it. See if it will talk to you.
“I was thinking of holding an investigation tonight. See if I can communicate with it.”
Tor raised an eyebrow.
“Want company?”
Ooh. Kala forced herself to look at him, keeping her expression casual. “Yeah, why not?”
“Cool.” Tor grinned then turned back to his dinner.
It made no sense.
If a vardøger was a future echo of a person, then it should have done exactly what Tor had done when he’d arrived home. And it hadn’t.
Okay, sure, she hadn’t been waiting in the hall for him. Maybe Tor would have walked up to her and kissed her. But she had been upstairs and he hadn’t even tried.
That wasn’t right.
She needed to do some proper research on this thing. The library would be open tomorrow. But in the meantime—an investigation sounded like the way forward.
And so, while Vika was washing the dishes, Kala made her way down into the cellar, Tor behind her, holding a Ouija board.
“How long have you had that thing?”
“Oh, we found it in the attic a few years ago. Think the last owners left it behind. I’ve never used it.”
Kala nodded, forcing herself to ignore the prickles that were running up her spine. She wasn’t sure if they were caused by Tor’s proximity or the possibility of speaking to ghosts.
Or both.
The cellar was dark, lit by a single unshaded light bulb. In the corners, she could make out boxes filled with unknown shapes and an old bicycle leaned against one wall. The air was surprisingly clean. She’d been expecting a musty smell, damp flooring underfoot, but this could have been any room in the house. Only darker.
Tor stepped closer to her as she paused and he brushed against her back.
Focus, for God’s sake. This is your best friend’s brother. You can’t think of him this way.
But she did and she couldn’t help it.
She could smell him, his hot, musky scent, and in that moment she was back on the sofa in the student house, Tor above her, her body straining toward his, longing for him.
Focus, her brain repeated, but he was so close, so close behind her.
The skin of her back was electrified at his touch. She pictured his firm chest under his T-shirt, pictured his hot skin and hard nipples brushing against her. Him, grabbing her from behind, pulling her to him in the way the vardøger had done, pressing her against him as he kissed her—
Stop it!
“Okay,” she said, steadying her voice. “Let’s put it down here. Light the candle next to it.”
Tor moved behind her and for a moment she was plunged into darkness as the light bulb was extinguished. Her heart froze.
Was that…?
Then Tor was in front of her, holding up his lighter and Kala flushed. He had switched off the light himself. Idiot.
She had to stay focused or this was all going to be pointless.
The wood floor creaked slightly when they sat. Kala placed the board between them. Tor carefully stood the candle beside the board, holding it steady while he lit it. The flame flickered, sending oddly-shaped shadows across their faces, and Kala shivered.
“You warm enough?” Tor asked.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” Kala dipped her head, letting her hair fall across her face. A pool of heat rippled through her stomach.
She moved the planchette to the center of the Ouija board, resting her finger lightly on top of it. Tor reached across the board to place his finger alongside hers. The movement brought their heads closer together and Kala held herself very still as her breathing quickened.
For God’s sake, get a grip!
“Well,” Tor murmured in her ear. “You’d better lead. I’d have no idea what to say.”
Kala bit off a breathy laugh. She looked down at the board and began with the only thing she could think of to ask.
“Is there anyone here with us?”
She hadn’t expected a response to her first question. All the paranormal TV shows she had seen had showed a build-up, a struggle to get answers. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, the planchette moved, gliding to the word YES.
<
br /> “Whoa,” Tor murmured.
Kala paused uncertainly, wondering what to ask next. “Are you the vardøger?”
The planchette slid to YES again.
Okay. So it does have a mind of its own. Now what?
She pushed aside the question which had leaped to mind. There was no way she could ask it why it had kissed her, not in front of Tor. In fact, she could now see that this had the potential to become embarrassing. What if it mentions last night?
What would it tell me?
To hell with it, she decided. Clearing her throat, she asked “Do you have anything you want to tell us?”
The planchette quivered for a moment, then began to move, letter by letter, while Kala and Tor watched.
WRITE IT
“Write it?” Tor looked at Kala, eyebrows raised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not sure—” Kala broke off. There was movement under her finger.
BIGFOOT
“Bigfoot? Is this another story for Mack?”
Kala flushed. Now this really is embarrassing.
“No. I’ve been working on a—on a piece of erotic fiction. It’s only about half-finished. I wasn’t sure whether or not to keep working on it.”
Tor’s eyebrows lifted even higher.
“And where does Bigfoot fit into that? Or don’t I want to know?”
Kala sighed. “There was a major fuss about Bigfoot fiction in the press a while back. I figured I might cash in.”
“An erotic story about Bigfoot.” Tor shook his head, forcing back a smile. “Dare I ask what it’s called?”
“I Like Bigfoot and I Cannot Lie.”
There was a brief silence before Tor lost the battle and burst into laughter. Kala found herself joining him. Somehow, it seemed less humiliating and more hysterical.
“Oh, God,” Tor said, breathless with laughter. “I needed that.”
“Well, now you know.” Kala glanced up at him through her fringe, letting herself smile as she caught his eye. “I guess I should finish writing it.”
Echoes of Love Page 2
