“I’m here to make sure you’re okay and to help you sleep.” The lull to his voice sends shivers down my spine.
“How very selfless of you.”
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also here for my pleasure. Ten years is a long time to be locked away. The night is my only freedom.”
“Then why waste it here with me?” I cast my eyes over the room.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He says this with such sincerity, no hint of sarcasm.
“If the previous dreams are anything to go by, this is the part where you tear my clothes off.”
He smirks. “But several hours ago, you told me I don’t have your permission. So that won’t be happening this evening.”
An ugly silence fills the small theatre, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach.
“Then what are you here for?” I ask.
A ghost of a smile brushes his lips. “To watch the show.”
Glancing behind me, I falter. “What show?”
His grin elongates as a shiver whips down my spine.
To my left, a woman appears from nowhere, her skin translucent, her eyes glassy, her hair smoothed down in a centre parting with blonde ringlets adorning each side of her face. Her bodice is laced tightly, her full skirt and the cut of her sleeves indicating an outfit from the 1800s.
She smiles at me as she runs her hands over my arm. I see her, but I can’t feel her. Her touch is nothing more than the flow of air around the stage.
To my right, another woman joins us, similarly dressed but with long dark curls and flowers in her hair.
Their movements are fluid. Their appearance is crystalline.
They are dead.
Both of them.
Not mere actresses in this unscheduled play but tethered to this place, wherever it may be.
To be visited by the dead during the night is new even for me.
“Do you see them?” I ask, shooting my gaze back to Valdemar.
“No. I only see you.”
“Then why—” I begin but am cut off as they raise my arms.
I can’t work out what trickery this is, as they make no impact on my limbs, their touch like feathers, yet my arms move at their bidding, rising above my head.
The dark-haired woman lowers herself, smiling at her friend as she bends down in front of me and places her fingers under the hem of my T-shirt.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but her only reply is another soft smile as she pushes the material up over my thighs, revealing my nakedness beneath.
Her partner gathers my hair at my nape as the other continues to work my T-shirt up until it reaches my neck, and then together, they remove it and toss it to the floor.
“That’s better.”
Valdemar’s gruff voice reminds me of his presence. I can’t see him, as my view is now blocked by the dark-haired woman in front of me, but all he can see is me, now naked on the stage.
The blonde woman runs her hands through my hair, pulling my head back and baring my throat like I’m a puppet on invisible strings. Gliding her hand over my chest, she touches my breasts, the barest of tickles igniting my senses.
