“Of course.” Drake answers quickly, having discovered that he can now enjoy food and drink again in his newly corporeal state, he won’t miss a meal.
“Good.” She turns to leave, but at the door, she stops. “Just so you know, I’d have appreciated being included in this conversation from the start.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving the three of us alone again.
Drake rubs his face. “She’s right. We should have talked to her directly.”
“Would you have preferred we invite Ash to this little gathering as well?” I shake my head.
“Maybe eventually we’ll have to,” Drake says, surprising me.
Soren chuckles. “Dear Ash, we cordially invite you to discuss your intentions toward our shared girlfriend.”
The situation is absurd by any standard, three supernatural beings sharing their affections with one extraordinarily frustrating human witch. And now, apparently, a fourth.
“Our bed was already rather crowded.” Soren finishes his drink and sets the glass on the table. “I suppose we’ll have to upgrade to a California king.”
“Soren, do shut up,” I say.
The world has changed in stranger ways during my long existence. I’ve learned to adapt.
We all have. We will again.
Thirty-Two
Drake
I can’t get over how the cold feels against my skin. Not the memory of cold, but actual, honest-to-God cold. The wooden window frame beneath my fingertips has texture, and my fingers touch where the wood is smooth in some places, then rough where the paint has chipped away. I can feel each individual groove in the grain. The airsmellslike winter, and that slightly musty scent all old buildings have, and Rose. The floral fragrance of what she uses to wash her hair, and the smell of her skin. It’s overwhelming. It’s miraculous.
For a hundred years, I’ve been half, not whole. Half here. Half nowhere. A forgotten name, lost to time, unremarkable and unremembered. Until Rose. Now, I’m more alive than I was before my death, and it’s all because of her. She is my salvation.
And my damnation, if she ever learns the truth.
I turn from the window when I hear the door open. Rose steps into her dorm room. She’s carrying a stack of books, with a bagslung over one shoulder. When she sees me, her entire face lights up, and my guilt twists deeper into my chest.
“You’re here,” she says, dropping her books on the desk with a thud. “I wasn’t sure if you would be.”
“Where else would I be?” I move toward her, drawn like a magnet. Every step feels wondrous, and even something as simple as the pressure of the floor against my feet, the air parting around my body as I move, is a gift. “I’m not wasting a second of being able to do this.”
I take her face in my hands, feeling the warmth of her skin, the softness of her cheek. My thumbs trace her cheekbones, and I watch goosebumps rise up on her arms. She leans into my touch with a small sigh.
Rose steps closer, her arms sliding around my waist. I breathe in deeply, savoring her scent, flowers and something uniquely Rose.
“Bad day?” I ask, noticing the tension in her shoulders.
“Just long. Pop quiz on astronomical alignments, and I’m pretty sure I failed spectacularly.” She pulls back to look at me. “But it’s better now.”
I take a lock of her hair, marveling at the silky texture between my fingers. “I could help you study. I was pretty good at astronomy back when I was a student here.”
“That was a hundred years ago,” she points out, a smile tugging at her lips.
“The stars haven’t moved that much.”
She laughs, and the sound fills the room, fills me. I want to bottle it, keep it forever.
Rose steps away, shrugging off her coat and tossing it onto her desk chair. “What did you do today?”
“Wandered the grounds. Breathed the air. It was a good day.” I sit on the edge of her bed and hold out my hand. “Come here.”
