The world moved in slow motion. Morrie tumbled through the air, his arms flailing wildly. I leaned right out, flinging my hands toward him as if I could somehow catch his fall. Freezing water stung my face, and Oscar’s whimpers barely reached my ears.
No.
Morrie.
No.
Don’t go where I can’t follow.
As my heart shattered and time stood still and Morrie hung in the air, inching closer to the churning waves and sharp rocks, a dark cloud barreled from the trees further down. It grabbed Morrie around the torso and slammed him against the rocks.
“Heathcliff!”
Water drenched literature’s greatest gothic antihero as he struggled to pull Morrie from the torrent of the waterfall. The pair of them slipped and skidded over the rocks as Heathcliff dragged Morrie up the bank to safety.
My battered heart soared with joy, with relief. Oscar pawed at my leg, his fur drenched and his eyes wide with terror. “Sorry, boy. We can get off now.” I inched my way along the bridge, stepping onto solid ground at last. Oscar trotted into the trees, barking happily at the figures emerging from the gloom.
I ran to Morrie, wrapping my arms around him, not caring that he was soaked through and shivering.
“Never, ever pull shit like that again,” Heathcliff growled, his hands fisted in Morrie’s shirt.
“No, I—” Morrie’s words cut off as Heathcliff met him in a furious kiss.
My breath hitched in my throat as I watched the two of them explore each other’s mouths, as they clutched each other like they’d been thrown from the Titanic and had found a wardrobe to cling to. Something new and free and thrilling blossomed between them. Morrie’s eyes fluttered shut, and I knew he was having A Moment.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, when my hunger and relief welled up inside me and burst out through my skin, I pulled them apart with my own lips and kissed them. I tasted them and they tasted each other. Laughter bubbled up inside me – a restless mirth because I thought I’d lost Morrie to the darkness, and now here he was in my arms again.
* * *
“Another mystery solved.” Morrie peered at the bucket of oysters with wry amusement before sliding into the chair opposite me beneath the window. “Thanks to your mother’s latest harebrained scheme.”
“Don’t tell her that, or we’ll never be able to get her and her oysters out of this shop. And we haven’t solved everything.” I glared over the chess game I’d set up between us into the shadows of the poetry shelves, where I’d seen a certain consulting detective lurking only minutes before. “The police are still trying to track Grey Lachlan down for questioning, and Sherlockstillhasn’t explained why he was lying to us about being here on earth for two years.”
“Indeed.” Morrie’s mouth twitched into his familiar smirk. He moved his pawn across the board like he didn’t have a care in the world. For a moment, he had me completely fooled – I could’ve been looking at the old Morrie, the one who didn’t care about anyone or anything. But after seeing him hit bottom, I knew that smirk he wore was just a mask. I could sense – even if I couldn’t see – the tremble in his shoulders and the uncertainty behind his eyes.
“Mina is correct. The man in the photograph was me.”
I whirled around. Sherlock leaned against the doorframe. He had eyes only for Morrie.
“I didn’t sneak down the stairs while you four were stupefied from sex. Although you should be careful that doesn’t happen in the future. You never know who might creep out of the pages next.” He said that with a glare in Heathcliff’s direction. “The truth is, I’ve been in this world for the last three years.”
“Why didn’t you just tell us the truth from the beginning?” Morrie demanded, putting his queen into play. I knew I was in trouble.
“Because I knew you’d react like this. You’d wonder why I hadn’t contacted you earlier. You’d suspect me, especially given the mounting evidence against you that suggested a personal grudge. I’d been watching you long enough to know Mina would leap into action in an attempt to save you, leap to the wrong conclusions about me, and hinder my investigation.” Sherlock nodded in my direction, in what might’ve been his approximation of respect. “It turns out, I was correct on two of the three.”
I poked my tongue out at him as I took Morrie’s bishop with my rook. “I solved the case.”
Sherlock grunted, unable to entirely concede that point.
Heathcliff slid into his chair, wincing as he pulled an oyster shell out from beneath his arse. “How come Mr. Simson never told us about you? He kept meticulous records of the fictional characters who came through the shop. I’d remember your name.”
“Simson felt that he could use my unique skills to gather intel on his enemy, but I needed to operate in absolute secrecy. Should anything happen to him, he didn’t want knowledge of my presence to fall into the wrong hands. I’ve spent the last three years hunting Dracula across the countryside, and I haven’t got as close as you have in a few short months. But I hadn’t drawn the connection between Kate and—”
I leaned forward. “Wait a second.You’vebeen hunting Dracula. And you’ve seen my father? Talked to him?”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”
“Mr. Simson is Mina’s father,” Morrie said. “He’s also Herman Strepel, famed medieval bookbinder and Homer, the ancient Greek bard who wrote theIliad—”
