That last part made my stomach twist. “Spirits do that,” I said quietly. “Most times trying to reach for the life inside of you. Think about it like reaching for the sun or wanting to know where the rainbow ends.”
Her voice cracked. “It’s vile. It says things that…” She stopped, then looked away.
“What things?” I asked softly now.
She shook her head, hugging herself tighter. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter now.”
It did matter, but I let it go. Whatever she was hiding, it wasn’t my place to push. People only tell the truth when they’re ready, or when the dark forces it out of them. And for her sake, and maybe mine, I did hope she would tell me when she was ready, and not when it was forced out.
When the last candle was lit, we sat in the center of the circle, our legs crossed as the flames enclosed us in a ring of trembling light. It was almost beautiful, the illusion of safety wrapped in danger. Her hair caught the candlelight, strands glinting gold, her breath very visible in the cooling air. She rubbed her hands together. “You feel that?”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “It’s starting.” I checked the time, a few minutes to midnight, and the temperature had dropped another degree.
She tried to distract herself with conversation. “It happened on my birthday, you know,” she said quietly. “My parents’ car crash.”
I looked at her, really looked. “When’s your birthday?” I asked, half because I was following her story, half because I wanted to get her a gift.
“Christmas Day,” she shrugged.
“Wait what?” I frowned and stared at her. “Tomorrow’s your birthday?”
She nodded, forcing a shaky smile. “Yup! Didn’t think I’d be here to celebrate it, but now that I am, I’m fighting off a ghost,” she laughed dryly.
Maybe it was the way she said it, how the flames looked in her eyes or how beautiful she looked in-between them that pulled something in my chest. That took me back to the time I was certain I wasn’t going to be here for my next birthday. Maybe it was how I was subconsciously letting this woman take me to places I thought I had long forgotten. Whatever it was, I was stupidly welcoming it in, and enjoying it.
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m fighting ghosts with you, Elena.” As the words left my mouth, her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the air stopped moving.
There was something about the way she looked at me, like she was trying to memorize my face, or maybe search for something familiar. It made my chest feel too tight. Then, my hands moved by themselves, reaching out for hers, and gently resting on them, just barely, but enough to feel how cold she was. Skin against skin, so calmly I could almost feel her blood move through her veins, it was igniting, despite the cold air around us, and the moment lasted longer than I could imagine, neither of us pulling away.
“Damian, there’s something I…” she barely got the words out when the sound came in, a slow creak from somewhere above, followed by a whisper too soft to understand.
Elena stiffened. “Damian…”
“Don’t speak,” I whispered. “Don’t move.” The candles flickered all at once, shadows lurching across the walls. I reached for the silver chain, feeling its hum against my palm, something was coming.
She exhaled shakily, and I felt her hand tighten around mine, her pulse a broken rhythm against my skin.
‘I thought the scariest thing waiting for me in this house was the ghost,’ I thought as I looked at her as her chest heaved uncontrollably, her eyes wide, focusing on me, luminous in the candle light.
‘Turns out,’ I exhaled, ‘it was her.’ And for the first time since I first saw a being that was supposed to be dead, I welcome something scary, something beautiful, but fucking scary.
Chapter Eleven
Elena
The candles wouldn’t stop flickering; they swayed like they were caught in an invisible breeze, bending toward us and away, flames bowing, stretching, trembling, but somehow, never burning out. The air felt thick, syrupy, every breath was heavy in my lungs.
Damian sat across from me inside the circle, with his eyes closed now. His voice was low and steady at first, but now, it was a deep hum that felt more like some sort of vibration than an actual sound. He was speaking Latin, I guessed, though I only recognized fragments of the words, something about protection, purification, and a plea or a warning.
Then his voice changed even more, it wasn’t just Latin anymore. It became three voices, layered, with other sounds, voices. One was deep and rumbling, the other one soft and high, and one that didn’t sound human at all. The sound crawled under my skin, and every candle flame bent inward, as if drawn toward him.
“Damian?” I whispered, but he didn’t look at me. His head was tilted back slightly, his lips moving faster as he kept talking, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His hands had left mine when he started and told me not to be afraid, so now his hands were resting on his knees, trembling and shaking.
“Damian!” I called again, too afraid and worried to even touch him.
He didn’t stop, but his voice broke through for a moment, just one fleeting second, his own voice again. “Stay with me, Elena.” His words came out rough, strained. “Trust me, and only me. Don’t break the circle, I’m still here.”
My throat felt tight. “What’s happening?”
