by Eli Easton
Jim’s image disappeared, replaced by an agitated waver of the air. “No,” Ghede Nibo said firmly. “He is not yours any longer, spirit. And it is not Abraham’s time to die. Go! Go under the waters. This is where you belong now.”
The shimmer jerked forward. Bram was certain it was going to envelop him, to ride him just as Ghede Nibo was. Could a man be ridden by two spirits at once? Bram had the conviction that the experience would destroy him, body and soul.
But Ezili Freda raised her free hand, palm outward, and screamed. “No! You may not have him. He belongs to my Daniel now. You are not wanted here any longer. You will never be happy here. Go!”
Bram felt the gwo bon anj’s shriek more than he heard it. The shimmer grew smaller before sinking into the jar. The jar rattled slightly and then fell over. And Bram collapsed to the ground.
Chapter Nine
DANIEL’S BED was covered in a clean-smelling cotton sheet, as cool against Bram’s bare skin as the damp washcloth on his forehead. Although the air-conditioning battled mightily, it was not the cause of Bram’s gooseflesh as Daniel looked down at him with concern.
“Are you all right?” Daniel asked.
Bram took a deep breath and let it out. “I’ve never fainted before.”
“It happens sometimes. It can be a shock when the lwa leaves your body. You were only out for a few seconds.”
“I’m still feeling a little… woozy.” He’d had to lean heavily on Daniel as they walked from the temple into the house, and now Daniel was fussing over him as though Bram was an invalid. “Is Jim…?”
“He’s settled. He won’t bother you anymore.”
Although Bram was relieved to hear that, a fresh pang of grief struck him. Jim’s spirit might have been murderous, but it was also the last bit of his lover left on earth.
Maybe Daniel read Bram’s thoughts, because he crossed the bedroom and took a framed photo from atop his dresser. He brought it back to the bed and held it so Bram could see. The picture showed a smiling family on a beach: a handsome man in his forties with his arm around a pretty woman about the same age. A teenage boy with wild brown curls stood beside her, and a younger kid with a smudge of dirt or sand on his face stood in front.
Bram sat up a little—Daniel adjusted the pillow to prop him up—and took the photo for a closer look. “A beautiful family. You look a lot like your mom.”
“I know. But I have my papa’s eyes. When he got older, Darius looked just like Papa, but with Mama’s eyes.”
“God, Daniel. I’m so sorry about your brother.”
“I mourned him. I loved him, and so much of his potential was wasted in this life. I mourned my parents when I lost them too. But you know, I’m sad mostly for myself, because I miss them. I’m not sad for them. Their souls are where they belong, and they’re at peace. Maybe they’re even together.” Although Daniel’s voice was soft, his expression was untroubled.
“And you think Jim is at peace too?”
“Yes. It’s terrible you had to lose him so soon, but—”
“I was losing him anyway,” Bram admitted. It was time to face the truth he’d known all along. He and Jim had become a couple because they were comfortable together, because their relationship provided a safe haven from an uncaring world. But although they loved each other, they’d never felt the same passion that Bram now felt for Daniel. By the time Jim died, their protective shell had grown brittle and claustrophobic. They would have broken it soon. It was cracked already.
Daniel took the photo back, smiled at it for a moment, and replaced it on his dresser. The mattress dipped when he sat beside Bram. “We certainly don’t welcome death most of the time, but in vodou we take a different view of it than a lot of people do. It’s not just an end but also a beginning. So in a way, it should be celebrated.”
Bram remembered what Ghede Nibo had told him, and he repeated it out loud. “Life, death. It’s all the same dance.”
“Exactly,” said Daniel, stroking Bram’s cheek with the pads of his fingers. “I guess the important thing is to keep dancing.”
Bram grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. “I like dancing with you.”
Although Daniel smiled widely, his eyes looked suspiciously glossy and he blinked rapidly. “I’m going to tell you something sappy, overblown, and premature.”
“Sounds wonderful to me.”
“I’m sorry about the deaths—Jim, Darius, the man who tried to run you over. But they brought us together, and that’s… amazing. I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Uh, that’s the premature part. We haven’t even had a real date.”
Still holding Daniel’s hand, Bram gave it a squeeze. “But we’ve had two possessions each. I think we can skip the first date part.”
Daniel gave him a very long look. “I didn’t scare you away with what I just said?”
“You’re a vodou priest. You’re supposed to be scary.”
Daniel’s shoulders relaxed and relief flashed across his face. “I’m not a priest yet,” he said. “Just an initiate.”
“Same difference.” Bram tugged Daniel closer and looked him straight in the eyes. “I don’t know if you guys believe in fate. I’m not sure I do. But I believe you and I can have something… something really good. Something really real.”
Laughing, Daniel clambered to the center of the bed and straddled him. “Are you saying this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Bram?”
“You’re a Casablanca fan?”
“God yes! I practically know the script by heart. Mama and I used to watch old movies together, and that was one of my favorites. Well, anything with Humphrey Bogart.”
“Maltese Falcon,” Bram said, pretending to swoon.
“African Queen. You too?”
Bram nodded. “I know this is weird, but he was my first crush. He wasn’t really all that good-looking, but he was so… I don’t know. Manly without being an asshole.”
Daniel looked completely delighted. “I know! When I saw him on the screen, I wanted to be Bergman, Bacall, Hepburn. I wanted someone to talk all clever and gruff to me and then crush me in his arms.”
“Like this?” Bram grabbed Daniel’s shoulders, pulled him down until their bodies were flush, and held him tightly.
“God, yes,” moaned Daniel, undulating slightly. “Like this.”
But Bram had an unhappy thought. “I reek.” He did—sweat and rum. And dirt stuck to his skin.
“Me too. Don’t care. We can shower later.”
And then Daniel kissed him.
They’d kissed earlier, but this was far better. Bram’s spirit-related problem was solved. And now, conveniently enough, they were on a bed, with Daniel’s weight pressing so gorgeously against him and with nothing between them but a couple pairs of shorts. And even then, Bram was able to squirm his hands under Daniel’s waistband to cup that round, smooth ass with his palms.
“I’ve been dreaming of you,” Daniel whispered in his ear.
If Bram hadn’t been hard already, that would have done the trick. It was almost as if he were a lwa who had managed to ride Daniel just a little bit—just enough to visit him in his sleep. And speaking of riding….
“Do you have rubbers?” he asked. Because it hadn’t occurred to him to bring any.
Daniel laughed into the crook of Bram’s neck. “I bought some this week. Just in case….” Then he lifted his head so he could lock eyes with Bram. “After the stunts the lwas pulled with our bodies, you probably think I’m kind of easy, but I’m not. I haven’t done this in a while.”
“We don’t have to do much of anything, actually. I’ve been turned on practically since we met. I think my fuse is going to be really short.”
Was that a giggle from Daniel? Bram was pretty sure it was, and it made him laugh too. “What?” asked Bram.
“Mine too. I was worried I was going to embarrass myself. How about if we get the first act over with, break for intermission, and then have the chance for a l
eisurely second act? What do you think?”
Bram thought he was already falling in love—but he didn’t say so. Instead he squeezed Daniel’s butt and arched up a little with his hips. “Can we at least undress?”
“Done!” Daniel hopped off, shimmied out of his shorts, and pounced back onto the mattress. Almost before Bram could blink, Daniel divested him of his clothing too. Then Daniel was back on top of him, their cocks in direct contact.
When Bram and Jim used to have sex—especially during their last couple of years together—they did it at night with the lights off. That had been Jim’s preference, and Bram had wondered if it had something to do with the little love handles he’d grown or the bits of gray that were beginning to appear in Jim’s dark brown hair. Sometimes Bram even wondered if Jim was imagining himself with a different partner—younger, sexier, more interesting.
Now sunlight streamed through the bedroom windows, and Daniel certainly didn’t seem discontented with the man beneath him. In fact, he kept interrupting their kisses to rear up a little and examine Bram’s face. And each time he did, Daniel smiled widely.
As for Bram, the feel of Daniel was heady enough, as was his citrus-and-sweat scent. But the sight of him made Bram whimper with need: Daniel’s sweet, supple body flexing above him. His tan skin contrasting with Bram’s paler tone. His blue eyes almost obscured by shining pupils. His opulent lips parted in noisy gasps. His long, sleek neck; his peaked brown nipples; his muscled, sweat-slick torso. And oh God, his rosy-headed shaft moving so deliciously against Bram’s.
Bram came first—a hitch in his chest, a neutron bomb in his core, a long moan from his throat. He heard the echo of Ghede Nibo’s laughter. Or maybe it was his own—it was a little hard to tell.
Seconds later Daniel dug his fingers hard into Bram’s shoulders, pressed his hips forward, and cried out raggedly before collapsing onto Bram’s chest.
Only after they had caught their breath did Daniel roll to Bram’s side. They both laughed at the gross squelchy sound they made when they parted.
“Now we really need that shower,” said Daniel, snuggling up and throwing one leg over Bram’s.
“Is yours big enough for two?”
“Mm-hmm.” Daniel yawned.
“But maybe a nap first?” Bram chuckled. “It’s been sort of an exciting morning.”
“Nap, shower, late lunch, act two. How’s that schedule sound?”
“Like heaven.”
Daniel played idly with the hair on Bram’s chest, moving it around and tweaking it gently, but it was clear from the way his brow furrowed slightly that he was thinking about something.
“You know,” he finally said, very slowly, “my shower’s big enough for two. So’s my bed. In fact… so is my house. I know we’re new. I know you love your home, but—”
“I don’t love my home. I mean, it’s okay. It’s nothing special. I just love what it represents to me.” Comfort. Refuge. But lately more like a self-made prison.
“Could you imagine another house representing those things? My house, for instance?”
Because the sight of Daniel was too distracting—too tempting—Bram closed his eyes. He pictured himself sitting on Daniel’s comfortable, slightly shabby furniture. Puttering around in the kitchen with the turquoise-and-lemon walls. Coming home from work, changing into casual clothes, and helping Daniel out in the garden. Cuddling with Daniel in front of the fireplace in winter. Visiting the temple in the backyard and meeting the members of the société. Climbing into this bed at night and scrunching up close to Daniel, just as they were right now.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I can imagine it very well, actually.”
This time, Daniel’s smile spread slowly, but it lit up his entire face and made his eyes sparkle with joy. “Good,” he said hoarsely.
If Bram truly did have two souls, at the moment they were both at peace.
Daniel moved his finger to the burn marks on Bram’s chest and traced around their edge. “I think this is going to scar.”
“That’s all right.” Bram glanced down at himself and for the first time realized the marks looked like a sideways figure eight. “A lemniscate.” A symbol a chemist knew well.
“What?” Daniel sounded sleepy and content.
“Ghede Nibo branded me with an infinity symbol. What do you think he meant by it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. He likes to joke sometimes.” Daniel yawned loudly before settling his head against Bram’s bicep. His hair was soft and a little tickly.
Maybe it was just a joke. But when Bram glanced at the dresser, the photo was obscured by a shiny black top hat—the same hat that had tumbled from Bram’s head when he fainted. As far as he knew, Daniel had left it in the temple when he helped get Bram into the house.
If you looked at it right, an infinity symbol looked like a pathway. Like the steps to a dance that never ended. Two halves—equal and opposite—looping endlessly into one another.
“Thank you,” Bram whispered. He made a mental note to buy more flowers and rum after act two. Unless a third act intervened.
Smiling, he drifted into a sweet afternoon nap.
KIM FIELDING is very pleased every time someone calls her eclectic. She has migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States and currently lives in California, where she long ago ran out of bookshelf space. She’s a university professor who dreams of being able to travel and write full time. She also dreams of having two perfectly behaved children, a husband who isn’t obsessed with football, and a house that cleans itself. Some dreams are more easily obtained than others.
Kim can be found on her blogs:
http://kfieldingwrites.blogspot.com/
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4105707.Kim_Fielding/blog
and on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/KFieldingWrites.
Her e-mail is [email protected], and she can be found on Twitter at @KFieldingWrites.
By KIM FIELDING
Alaska
Animal Magnetism (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Bones (with B.G. Thomas, Jamie Fessenden, and Eli Easton)
The Border
Brute
Don’t Try This at Home (Dreamspinner Anthology)
A Great Miracle Happened There
Housekeeping
Men of Steel (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Motel.Pool.
Night Shift
Pilgrimage
The Pillar
Snow on the Roof (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Speechless • The Gig
Steamed Up (Dreamspinner Anthology)
Stitch (with Sue Brown, Jamie Fessenden, and Eli Easton)
The Tin Box
Venetian Masks
Violet’s Present
BONES
Good Bones
Buried Bones
The Gig
Bone Dry
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
THE BIRD
ELI EASTON
I’VE ALWAYS been fascinated by Voodoo and by the West Indies. This story was inspired by classic old films like I Walked With A Zombie and White Zombie. It was also inspired, in no small part, by the steamy erotic vibe of the film Wide Sargasso Sea with Nathaniel Parker and Karina Lombard.
Special thanks to my beta readers Nico Sels, Kim Fielding, Kate Rothwell, and my ever patient husband.
The snatch of song Major Pivot sings is from “The Lost Chord” by Arthur Sullivan, 1877. He later quotes Shakespeare’s King Lear, Act IV.
~1~
March 3, 1870
My Dearest Richard,
I arrived safely in Jamaica, and I write to you as my very first act at Crosswinds, just as I promised. The passage was eventful. We hit a storm that was so fierce I was convinced I was going to die. I was about to write that you would have laughed to have seen me on my knees, white as a sheet, and praying for my life as the ship rolled. B
ut that isn’t true. You are so soft-hearted, you would never laugh at another’s distress, much less mine.
Remember when we studied the things soldiers think about before battle in our military strategy class? Well, I thought of you as I stood at death’s door, of how I’d miss our friendship. Happily, it was much ado about nothing in the end. As you may have surmised, I did not die.
Onward and upward and all that. I will write again as soon as I have taken the measure of this place. Give my good wishes to your family, and tell your brother that he owes me a pint, as I was not sick once, not even during the worst of the storm.
Your ever devoted,
Colin
March 10, 1870
My Dearest Richard,
I just received my first packet of letters from you. You must have written the day after I left London! It’s like a breeze from England to read your familiar script in this strange place. Please keep pen to paper, and I promise to do the same on my end.
I already have quite a bit to tell. Yesterday I was forced to fire Mr. Tuttle, our plantation manager. Everything Father had been hearing about him was true. He tried to put on a good face when I showed up, but it was clear he was a drunkard and a brute. The laborers hated him. I sent him packing and had a firearm at my side whilst I did it. He put up a fuss, and our argument was a fine spectacle for everyone on the plantation. I wonder if any of them wagered on the outcome.
The long and short of it is, Tuttle is gone. Which means I must run this blasted place. Father gave me two years to turn the plantation around, and I mean to do it if that’s what will get me home and back to you and to Elizabeth. I’ve been speaking to some of our neighbors. The plantation closest to mine is run by a man named Lester Pivot, the sort of devout church mouse who runs services in his house for the natives. He lives with his brother, Major Pivot, who is not altogether in his right mind, poor chap. Lester believes sugarcane is on the wane and bananas and coffee are where the future lies. Of course, you know how Father feels about sugarcane, but it wouldn’t hurt to diversify. I plan to convert several acres and see if I can impress Father with the return.
