I cough sharply, accidentally spraying biscuit crumbs over the table, not that anyone notices. No matter how much I try to catch my breath, I keep coughing and coughing until I feel like I’m going to hurl up a lung. Fumbling for any kind of liquid, my hand wraps around a cup—mine or Danny’s, I’m not sure which and I don’t really care. I gulp down the cold tea until the cup is almost empty, dragging in a loud breath with tears running down my cheeks as the coughing fit finally subsides.
“Are you alright, boo?” Dusty asks in amusement.
“Fine,” I croak, realising a moment too late that it was Dusty who’d asked me, and I’d answered her out loud. I glance around the table, but no one seems to have noticed my faux pas.
I take a couple of slow breaths, but after a couple of moments I become aware of a strange taste in my mouth. “That didn’t taste right.” I frown as I stare into the almost empty cup. “It tasted bitter.”
I tilt the cup and to my horror notice a grainy residue sliding along the bottom of the cup that I’m pretty certain isn’t sugar. “Oh shit.” I blink as my head begins to buzz. “Dusty… I think… I think… something was in that tea,” I slur.
But the last thing I hear is a loud thunk as my head hits the table…
13
“Tristan!” I shriek, letting go of Delores’ hand in the hopes that she doesn’t stray again. “Tristan… oh my god… oh my god… Tristan, wake up!” I flap my hands uselessly in panic.
“Oh look,” Violet announces. “Princeton has fallen over.”
“It’s Tristan,” Trudy corrects as she looks down at Tristan passed out cold on the table. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Do you think he’s tired?” Maeve asks. “He looks tired. Is he taking a nap?”
“Young ones today,” Birdie sniffs. “No stamina. Just leave him there.” She waves her hand dismissively.
“Do you think he needs a blanket?” Trudy muses.
“He needs a bloody ambulance, you daft old bat,” I yell, but they can’t hear me or see me. Fuck… this is one of those times when being dead is really fucking inconvenient. I can’t even check his pulse.
Oh god, what if he’s dead?
“Tristan!” I yell in his ear before looking up at the old ladies who’ve gone back into their own little worlds and are ignoring him. “Help him!” I yell at them even though I know it’s pointless.
I’m panicking now. I don’t know what to do until a really crazy and very stupid idea occurs to me. I hesitate for only a second, knowing Tristan needs help.
“Oh, this is probably a really bad idea.” I wince as I brace myself and dive toward Tristan and into his body.
It’s the strangest feeling, a curious melting sensation, then warmth, like I’ve been wrapped in the warmest, softest blanket I could imagine, but that feeling lasts for only a fleeting second before I’m overwhelmed. Everything feels so heavy and loud. It’s grating on all my senses—or should I say, Tristan’s senses. From inside his body, I can feel his heart beating good and strong. He’s not dead, just knocked out by whatever he’s been dosed with, but that still doesn’t mean he’s out of danger. I need to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible.
I try to lift my head—or rather, Tristan’s head—but it’s weird being back in a mortal body after six months as a disembodied spirit. It’s like trying to drive a car on the wrong side of the fucking road when you haven’t been behind the wheel for ages.
“Tristan!” I hear Chan’s beautiful voice in my ear and feel the warmth of his hand on my ba—Tristan’s back. Wow, this is going to take some getting used to. “What have they done to you? I was only gone five minutes,” he says in a panic. “Oh my god, Danny is going to kill me.”
I lift my head slowly, and once again everything feels really heavy. “Tris, honey?” He cradles my face, but I can’t seem to get my mouth working. Wearing someone else’s body is like trying to figure out how to work a really complicated marionette.
“Got. To. Get. Out. Of. Here…” I say, pushing myself to my feet and stumbling forward against the table as Chan reaches out to steady me.
The table legs grind loudly against the floor as it moves against my weight, with the unfortunate side effect of setting the urn containing Delores ashes to a precarious swaying. Chan’s gaze widens and he reaches out to grab it but it’s too late. It capsizes and rolls off the edge of the table, hitting the floor with a loud thunk.
Thank god it’s made from something hardy and doesn’t break, but thanks to its rounded shape, it continues to roll across the floor. Larry gives a cry of dismay and chases after it, with people scattering out of their seats and tripping over each other to get out of her way. Tables are shoved aside, causing cake stands to topple and sending cakes flying everywhere. It’s absolute bedlam.
“Er… Time to go,” Chan decides prudently and wraps my arm around his neck so he can drag me from the chair.
We stumble through the tables towards the door, and the more we move the more I get the hang of being back inside a corporeal body. The heaviness begins to recede slightly and I’m able to move my legs. We burst into the entrance foyer, and I stumble to a stop.
“Wait… wait…” I croak and my voice sounds really strange to my ears until I realise it’s because it’s not my voice, it’s Tristan’s. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I lean forward, resting my hands on my knees as I breathe heavily.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Chan rubs my back again in a soothing circular motion.
“I’m fine, there’s just one problem…” I whisper as I look up, meeting those familiar dark eyes as I straighten. “I’m not Tristan.”
