Page 66 of How I Met Your Murderer

Lorcan’s eyes went wide with terror, and he blinked out of sight as the shadow seemed to stretch toward him. Only his voice lingered for a few seconds, long enough to whisper, “Tell Gerald Pickett I’ll see him in hell.”

Raff let out a shaky breath in the quiet, then looked at me. The shadow and Lorcan were gone, but the cold left in their wake was so deep that even I could feel it. “Hey,” he said softly, “Are you . . .?”

I guess the look on my face stopped him cold. I guess I had the look of a dead man, or one who knows he’s doomed.

Because I remembered now. Everything.

Climbing the castle, looking out through gaps in the broken stones and imagining I was an adventurer gazing through a portal to some vast new world.

Sweating and panting by the time I reached the top. My blood sugar wasn’t low because I had remembered to eat a dense granola bar on the way up. The complex carbs held my sugar steady, releasing slowly over time.

My hands were steady on the partial stone handrail, and then—

A cold, wet hand settled on the base of my spine. Icy cold, impossible cold that ran up my back, my heart spasming in response. Vagus nerve shock. I had collapsed before I could cry out, just sort of crumpled and, with no ability to make my limbs cooperate, sailed over the edge.

And as I plummeted like a dropped stone: a shadow darkened the foyer wall. One without a light source, because the day was overcast and threatening rain. Its shape wasn’t, in the brief flash that I saw it, like anything I had seen before. Vaguely human, yes, but a perversion of our shape as it twisted and leapt along the stones toward me. Dancing as it emerged from the wall itself and took on a more solid but still shadowed form, its limbs like arms reaching to embrace me when I shattered on the ground.

Raff didn’t know what was wrong with me, but I was too unmoored to even try to speak. Glancing around the dark office, he decided something and scooped me into his arms. I wanted to tell him that it was a noble but idiotic thing to do with his bad knee. Instead, I pressed my face into his chest, and if I could have cried, his shirt would be damp with my tears.

He carried me out of the castle, across the lawn, all the way to his van.

The sound of the doors slamming shut behind us hit me like a blow, and I flinched.

“Hey,” Raff said softly, laying me on his mattress and covering me up—like I still needed blankets rather than being the reason others shivered. “Hey, Eric. Look at me.”

I couldn’t. I was afraid that, if I looked at him, I’d fall apart. Lose my shape, unwind into restless, reckless energy, and do something insanely stupid like attack the elemental myself.

My murderer.

“It killed me,” I said, my voice coming out small and sounding a million miles away. “Just like it did Lorcan. I remembered, when he was talking.”

And I gave him the not-so-gory details.

Slowly, carefully, Raff stretched out beside me, giving me every chance to protest or pull away. When I didn’t, he wrapped an arm around my waist and snuggled against my back like a living, breathing shield. The pressure of him was like the world reminding me that I used to be solid, too. This was the softest place I could have possibly landed after a fall like the one I took, and I didn’t know how I got so lucky.

The small glass teardrop of his pendant nudged against my spine, a reminder of all that kept him from winding up like me: a spirit trapped in the playground of something strong and hungry and unfeeling.

“I died here. I was murdered here, by something I couldn’t see or understand. Just because it likes killing,” I whispered miserably. “I didn’t stand a chance, and all this time, I’ve been stuck here because of it.”

“It wasn’t a fair fight.” Raff’s voice near my ear was soft and fierce. “And Eric, I promise on my own life, it doesn’t get to keep you.”

A sob rippled through me. I felt myself coming undone even with Raff holding me together. Turning in his arms so I could see his face, I confessed, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

“You don’t have to do anything right now,” he whispered. “Just be here with me. Breathe with me. I’ve got you.”

I let out a tiny laugh. “Ghost breathing is all pretending. You know that.”

“So pretend with me,” he said. The warmth of him felt like armor, and so did the quiet fury that was tensing every part of him as he clung to me. “I’m not letting that thing hurt you again. We’re going to finish your list and get you someplace safe.”

I closed my eyes and made myself exhale, matching him. “Okay.”

“Can I hold you for the rest of the night?” Raff asked.

Though really, he was asking something more. It was a question of staying solid, of manifesting fully for a long stretch of time, if I had the energy. After how tonight had gone, I felt dim and stretched thin. But I wanted every last second of closeness he was willing to give me, so I nodded, determined to try.

And I had an idea of what would make it easier. My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to as I said, “Will you . . . touch me?” He was already holding me, but I wanted to feel his hands all over me. From my hair to my hips to my thighs. “All over. Anywhere.”

Raff’s voice cracked. “Oh, yeah. I can certainly do that.”