Echoes of Love

by Tanith Davenport

  “Why did you kiss me?”

  The planchette began to move. With her left hand Kala noted down the letters, ignoring individual words until the movements had stopped.

  She stared at the paper.

  ANY RELATION TO LUCY?

  Seriously?

  Tor’s favorite line.

  Well, it was supposed to be linked to Tor, after all. It should have been no surprise that it would respond like him sometimes. But—

  The planchette moved again. Kala began to write, following its increasingly rapid motions.

  YOU’LL HAVE TO SHOW ME WHITBY SOMETIME

  “Okay. Enough of the Dracula shit. I get it.”

  YOU GET ME YOU GET ME YOU GET ME

  Kala blinked. “Okay…”

  ALWAYS YOU

  ‘Always you ’ again. “What’s always me?”

  The planchette quivered but didn’t move. Kala cursed under her breath.

  Although that would make sense, if this thing was Tor, or an echo of Tor. He was never one to say what he meant when it came to feelings. And if this was anything to do with how he felt about her—

  Tell me, damn it!

  “What’s always me?” she persisted.

  Movement.

  VIKA SICK

  Kala froze.

  “What? What do you mean?” An image of Vika when she had first arrived flashed into her head. Vika looking pale, gaunt.

  The planchette hovered on one letter.

  C

  Kala’s body went cold.

  Cancer.

  “Is it cancer? Does Vika have cancer?”

  Nothing. The small triangle remained on the C, trembling under her fingertips.

  Then it shot off the board entirely, passing over the word GOODBYE.

  Crap.

  Kala sat for a moment, staring into space as thoughts crashed through her brain.

  Vika. Vika sick. Vika having cancer.

  Vika hated seeing doctors. Even if she thought she was ill, she would never bother a doctor with it. Trying to convince her would be a waste of time.

  Maybe she could get Tor to talk to her. He’d probably have to go with her, too. Knowing Vika, she would pass it off as nothing important and nothing would happen.

  Oh, God. She had to talk to Tor. But Tor was at work and wouldn’t be back until late. She would have to keep a brave face on until then for Vika’s sake and that would be a nightmare. Vika would want to know what had happened—and what could she tell her? That the vardøger liked to make Dracula jokes?

  Vika would never buy that. And Kala could never hide her fear for that amount of time. Vika would know something was wrong and she would rubbish any suggestion to get checked out— Oh, God, it’s hopeless.

  She would have to make an excuse and go to bed early. Pretend to feel sick herself. Vika would understand that. Then tomorrow she could talk to Tor.

  Or maybe even catch him when he got back.

  Moving slowly, she picked up the board and made for the steps, forcing a calm expression onto her face. Do this for Vika.

  Because it was the only way.

  * * * *

  “Nothing much happened. Bit disappointing really. I’m going to crash early, if that’s okay, I’ve got a headache.”

  Vika threw her a box of paracetamol as Kala passed her. “Night. See if those help.”

  Oh, Vika. So caring about my health and not giving a damn about your own.

  Behind her closed bedroom door, Kala picked up a book but couldn’t settle down to read it. That one letter on the Ouija board refused to leave her brain. In the end, she switched off the light and lay under the covers, wishing sleep would find her.

  She hadn’t held out much hope, but it seemed like only a few minutes when she jolted awake, hearing the creak of her bedroom door opening.

  “Vika?”

  No response. Footsteps crossed the floor toward her. Full of uncertainty, she sat up and pulled the quilt closer around herself.

  “Vika, is that y—?”

  A callused finger pressed itself to her lips and Kala broke off as a wave of heat flooded her body.

  Tor.

  The finger disappeared and was replaced by Tor’s mouth.

  In the darkness, it was like all Kala’s senses were heightened. The rush of cold when she threw her quilt aside, the scratch of the sheets under her bare legs as the bed shifted under Tor’s weight. The heat of his body and spicy smell of his skin when he moved closer to her, as she reached up to rest her hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the smoothness of his muscles under her fingertips.

  Feeling the slight twitch and intake of breath when she brushed over a sensitive spot.

  She drew her hands down along his spine, down, down, down to the cleft of his ass, feeling his mouth at the same time pull away from hers, trailing kisses down her neck, sending shivers along her nerves.

  Tor…

  She arched her back in pleasure, her breasts brushing against his chest, reminding her that she was wearing nothing but underwear—and that he was wearing nothing at all. Had he walked into her room naked? Or had she missed him throwing off a dressing gown?

  Her nipples peaked as they dragged across his skin again, and her mind blanked.

  I don’t care what he came in wearing. I only care what he’s doing with his mouth.

  And his mouth was moving lower, lower, his hair tickling her chest as his tongue slid over one breast, then the other, circling each nipple then pausing when his lips closed around it and sucked. She bit her lip, forcing back a cry.

  She didn’t want Vika to hear them.

  His fingers hooked over the sides of her panties and slid them slowly, slowly downward, his head moving farther down her body. Kala kicked her underwear aside, her thighs parting when his fingers brushed the tender skin…

  Then his breath gusted over her clit, followed by the heat and wetness of his tongue.

  Oh, God!

  She pressed a hand over her mouth, forcing back the moans that threatened to escape as Tor’s tongue darted over her clit, teasing, touching, caressing. His fingers tormented her folds, one sliding inside her, twisting until it found that sensitive spot that made her tremble. Two fingers, three fingers, and she was biting down on her wrist, holding back her cries as best she could, aching for more.

  If only she could see him, hear his voice. The dark was overwhelming. She could just make out a curve of a shoulder, the movement of an arm, but the image of his tan naked body teased her—the twin globes of his buttocks, the dark trail of hair that led to his jutting cock. His cock, which now brushed the inside of her knee while his mouth left her pussy, his hands resting on her hips.

  She still couldn’t hear his voice, but she could hear his hoarse breathing catching in his throat as his cock nudged her folds, his pre-cum meeting her wetness.

  She arched her back again, ready for him to enter her, but instead his hands slid under her ass, shifting to turn her onto her side. She moved, rolling over as he urged her first onto her stomach then lifted her onto her knees, presenting her bare bottom to him.

  The cold air softly hit her cunt and she shivered.

  The warmth radiated from his body when he moved closer, then his thighs were pressed against hers, hair scratching against her skin. His cock was sliding inside her, into her to the hilt, then his hands were cupping her breasts, his thumbs rolling over her taut nipples.

  She bit back a moan, bombarded with sensation from all sides; the mattress rocked with each thrust. She was hot and breathless and desperate all at once.

  He was dragging his tongue across her skin, biting her neck and licking the spot, sprinkling kisses across her shoulders. His cock thrust inside her again and again and again, and she pressed one hand to her throbbing clit when something sparked low inside her—

  Then she was coming, gasping and there was an answering gasp from behind her before she collapsed hard onto the bed.

  And—nothing.

  Kala rolled over and sat
up, shivering as cool air flowed over sweat. She reached to the bedside table and switched on the lamp.

  There was nobody in the room.

  Nobody.

  Chapter Five

  #xa0;

  The alarm clock on her bedside table showed 8 a.m. Kala sat on her bed, fully dressed, staring at her phone.

  She had to talk to Tor. There was no way round it.

  She had to tell him about Vika. Or, at least, what she suspected about Vika. She had to keep reminding herself that she didn’t know anything yet. But Vika’s gaunt appearance refused to leave her brain and she needed to get Tor on her side.

  Then—last night.

  What the hell had that been?

  Why would the vardøger…

  It had to have been in Tor’s mind. Like the kiss. Somehow, he had been thinking about her, about fucking her, and the vardøger had followed suit.

  That wasn’t fucking, a little voice in her head commented. Kala pushed it aside. Now was not the time to be arguing with herself about that. Even if it must have been a very detailed fantasy on Tor’s part to—

  Stop it.

  Was Tor still in his room or had he already gone downstairs? If he was already down, then getting his attention without Vika noticing would be hard work. So there was only really one option. She clicked open her text messaging app.

  I need to talk to you. Privately.

  Send.

  After a few minutes, the phone buzzed.

  About what?

  Kala paused, trying to think of how best to put it.

  Spoke to the vard again last night.

  There was a lengthier pause.

  And?

  It says Vika’s sick.

  Less than thirty seconds passed before there was a knock on her bedroom door.

  “Come in.”

  Tor stepped in and closed the door behind him, his phone in his other hand. He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, but still disheveled, his hair a spiky mess. He remained standing, one hand still on the door, looking straight at her.

  “Keep talking.”

  Kala quickly recounted the events in the cellar, skimming over the conversation she’d had with the vardøger before it had mentioned Vika. That could come a little later.

  When she reached the final ‘C’, Tor paled.

  “You think it means cancer?”

  Hearing the word from Tor made it sound much more real. A heavy stone settled in Kala’s stomach.

  “Yeah. I think it did. You’ve seen her. She’s so thin—she doesn’t look well.”

  Tor sat down on the bed, his hands falling onto his thighs. He let his breath out in a long rush.

  “We’ve got to get her to a doctor.”

  “Right. But we can’t just tell her to go. You know what she’s like.”

  “No.” Tor stared ahead for a moment. “And she won’t go just on this, anyway. Even if she did, she’d need more than a Ouija board to convince a doctor to test her. We need to know exactly what’s been happening to her. There must be other symptoms she hasn’t told us about.”

  “There must be,” Kala agreed. “We’ll have to make her tell us somehow.”

  Silence fell between them for a moment. Kala glanced at Tor uncertainly, wondering whether to tell him the rest.

  Or at least some of the rest.

  In the end she spoke, the words coming out in a rush.

  “It kissed me.”

  Tor blinked.

  “It what?”

  “The vardøger. It kissed me.” Kala turned and stared him straight in the eye. “It kissed like you.”

  There. If that doesn’t get a response out of him, nothing will.

  “Wow,” Tor said after a long pause.

  Well, it was a response. Just not a very helpful one.

  “Why do you think it did that?” Tor still looked stunned, so Kala pushed further, “Were you thinking about kissing me when you left work?”

  Tor’s eyes widened a little and Kala’s stomach jumped. For a moment she thought she could read it in his eyes—that it hadn’t been kissing that he’d been thinking about.

  “Well…actually…yeah.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t up when you got in, then.” Although if the vardøger also knows how you fuck, I’m not that sorry.

  Tor laughed and Kala joined him. The awkwardness in the air seemed to vanish.

  “That’s… good to know. I wasn’t sure after—”

  “I guessed.”

  A grin crossed Tor’s face, followed by another relieved laugh. He turned back to hold her gaze, placing his hand over hers at the same time, and Kala’s heart leaped.

  “Listen. Before we do anything else, we need to pin Vika down. This needs to be sorted out one way or another.”

  “You’ll get no arguments from me.”

  Tor’s hand closed over hers as he held her gaze.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

  Kala swallowed her nerves and nodded.

  Let’s do this.

  * * * *

  Kala had known it would be difficult, but the pallor that had crossed Vika’s face when Tor had spoken was still a shock.

  “Wait a second. Are you seriously telling me that a vardøger told you I’m sick? That I have cancer?”

  “Vika.” Tor’s voice was low and steady. “You need to be honest with us.”

  “What do you mean, be honest? Why would I lie to you? Are you saying I’m not honest with you?”

  Vika’s words were tumbling over each other and a chill struck Kala’s heart as she realized the truth.

  Vika knows—and she’s scared.

  “Vika, please. Talk to us.”

  Vika’s eyes shot to Kala and her mouth snapped shut, as if to say I don’t have to talk if I don’t want to.

  “You’ve lost weight. A lot of weight.” Tor paused, letting the words hang in the air. “There’s more, isn’t there? You have other symptoms.”

  Vika looked at him, her eyes wide, her breath rapid.

  “I…well, there was…one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “I’ve been getting some pain in my side. Here.” Vika placed a hand on the left side of her abdomen. “And I noticed there’s…there’s kind of a…lump.”

  A lump. Oh God.

  At the word, Vika’s mouth crumpled. She covered her eyes with her hand, her face working, and Tor got up and put his arm around her.

  “When did you find it?”

  “About three months ago.”

  Kala blinked.

  I don’t know if I want to save your life or wring your neck.

  Three months.

  Three months for a possible tumor to grow, to fester, to spread to bones and other organs, hiding behind Vika’s too-frail flesh and her increasing fear.

  She looked at Tor, wanting more than anything for him to step up and tell her, tell them both, that everything would be all right.

  It wouldn’t be all right.

  “Okay.” Tor’s voice was firm but there was a hoarse quality to it that betrayed his fear. “You and I are going to the doctor first thing tomorrow. Or today, if we can get you in.”

  “They can’t tell us anything in a day,” Vika gasped out.

  “I don’t care. They can start things moving. And quickly.”

  “Tor, I—” Vika stared up at her brother, her face white. The unfinished sentence hung in the air.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m afraid.

  Kala added her own words. I don’t know what to do.

  But there was nothing more she could do.

  Nothing.

  * * * *

  To Kala, it felt as though Vika and Tor were gone for hours.

  It had still been early enough for them to get an on-the-day appointment. Vika had sat motionless for most of the morning, staring into space, ignoring any attempts Kala had made to distract her. They had finally left at noon for a twelve-thirty appointment and Kala had tried to busy herself with
a book.

  It hadn’t worked.

  She was slouched on the sofa attempting to watch daytime TV when the front door banged. She sat up, alert, as footsteps came up the hallway toward her.

  What happened? Are they doing something? Anything?

  And silence.

  Silence.

  The fucking vardøger again.

  Kala switched off the TV, then threw the remote down on the coffee table and jumped up out of her seat. She wrenched open the hall door, already knowing she would see nothing but not caring in the least.

  “You again! What the fuck do you want with me?”

  No answer. Kala slammed the door shut and stormed back into the living room, stopping in the center of the rug. She looked wildly around the room, searching for something, anything that might be a sign it was listening to her.

  “We’re getting her help. So thank you for that. Now what? What do you want me to do now? Do you do anything other than fuck with my head?”

  The door threw itself open with a bang. Kala spun to face it, wishing there was something there she could see. She was just about ready to scream.

  “Well? What do you want? What do you actually want? ”

  A sudden rush of air blew past her, lifting her hair up over ears. Kala gasped at the hand on the small of her back, the press of a firm body against hers and her head fell back, unresisting, when another hand rested on her cheek.

  Then the invisible something kissed her and she closed her eyes as every nerve in her body whispered Tor, Tor, Tor.

  It was him. It was definitely him. The brush of his hand in her hair, the curves of his muscles, the tender yet firm press of his mouth, the motion of his tongue teasing hers. It was Tor and in that moment she would have given anything to fall back on the sofa and pull him against her.

  Except that it wasn’t him. It was the vardøger.

  As the realization hit her, the figure dissolved and Kala opened her eyes to find herself still standing alone in the center of the room, dazed and disheveled.