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“Croak!” A pair of talons dig into my shoulder.
Thanks, bird. I needed a distraction. I think I might have been about to do something very ungentlemanly…
“Quoth says that he’s sorry, but he’d been trying to get our attention for a good five minutes. He has the letter.” Bree pats the bird’s head. Her voice sounds all strained and husky, and it makes my staff tighten. “I guess we were distracted. Thanks for getting this for us, Quoth.”
“We appreciate you, bird.” I dig out the package of dried berries in my pocket and tip a few onto my hand for him.
“He says that he’s too tired to fly all the way back to Argleton, so we must carry him ourselves. And stop on the way to buy him a bag of nuts.” Bree pauses as Quoth croaks some more instructions. “And maybe a mouse.”
I grip the rolled-up letter in my hand. “Then let us make haste, for we have a final ghost to re-Alive.”
28
Bree
By the time we get back to Grimdale on the train, it’s nearly midnight. My eyes are aching to close, but I’m wide awake. The letter sits on the table between us – Edward’s unfinished business that we found together – and while Quoth makes little wheezing noises with his head tucked into his wing on the chair beside me, Ambrose and I drive each other crazy with need.
Foreplay with a prim and proper Victorian gentleman is something quite extraordinary. Ambrose won’t do anything bold on a train where other passengers might see, but that makes everything we do somehow more wicked and delicious. A brush of his foot against mine, his fingers trailing down my arm or wiping a loose strand of hair from off my cheek. Me dropping my teabag on the floor so I can bend over and stroke his crotch until he gasps and begs me to stop…
Okay, that one was a little cruel.
Every touch burns a torch inside me that only he can quench. By the time the train pulls in at Grimdale, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust.
I don’t care if we have to drug my parents or send them away on false pretences. I need himtonight.
With a final huff in my ear about turning him into a criminal, Quoth flutters off toward Argleton, his bag of nuts clamped between his beak. Ambrose and I trudge up the hill to Grimwood Manor, the letter burning a hole in my purse and the warm hand resting on my elbow making me imagine all sorts of filthy scenarios for how the rest of this night will go.
Maybe we turn Edward tonight, and then the two of them could…
But before I can even reach for the door handle, the door flies open. A stormy-faced Pax glares at us both, his sword raised. “Where have you been?” he demands. “You were supposed to be homehoursago. I was just about to start feeding people to lions.”
“How would that help find us?” I ask.
“I suppose it wouldn’t.” Pax scratches his head. “But it would make me feel better. When I’m worried about you, I need to maim.”
“Fair enough.” I yawn. I’m too tired to explain to Pax about anger management. “Where’s Edward?”
“Where do you think? In the study, driving me crazy with his poetry.”
“And my parents?” I didn’t exactly want them home when Edward came back to life. I needed some time alone with him before I figured out how to explain him to them.
“With Maggie at the Cackling Goat, reclaiming their crown as the king and queen of Pub Quiz Night.”
“Excellent.” That means they’ll be out until last call, and they’ll come home so utterly pissed that the house could be burning down and they wouldn’t notice.
This is good news, because I have plans for my Victorian gentleman and my dark prince and their corporeal bodies…
With Ambrose gripping my arm and making me weak at the knees, I take the stairs two at a time. We enter the guest lounge just as Edward drops to one knee on the rug, his face a picture of misery as he intones, “Oh, Death! Thy presence casts a pallid gloom, A spectre haunting life’s ephemeral bloom, In yonder vale, where graves their secrets hold, The fickle breath of life, by thee, grows cold…Brianna, you have returned.”
He straightens, pulling himself together, but I saw the misery on his face. Edward, who always tried to make us believe he was above everything and everyone. He feels loss and betrayal deeper than I ever knew.
And I’m about to break his heart all over again. Will the gift of his new life be worth it? I hope so.
“Edward, can you…um, sit down,” I say. “Ambrose and I have something to tell you.”
“Only if you sit beside me.” Edward flops dramatically into the chaise, wincing as his thigh goes a little too deep into the cushion. “I’d like to feel the ghost of your body against mine, since it’s all I’ll ever have of you.”
I sit down beside him, letting my leg brush his, feeling the strange, unearthly warmth that emanates from him. This could be the last time I feel that kind of ghostly touch…but soon I’ll have Edward, flesh and bone, and that will be so much better.
