Page 88 of Unhinged Magic
Dayandnightfellinto a harmonious rhythm, passing like strangers on a platform, waiting on a train bound for nowhere. Only twice had I verbally made myself known, something I never thought I would do. It’s one thing to bind yourself to the vacant space between the dead and the living, but to push through that veil and acknowledgeher? I felt its inflicting wound deep within my soul the moment I realized she couldsee me.
Me.
I had pondered the word countless times. A word commonly passed around as a label of oneself. Singular. But was I really even me anymore?
She didn’t seeme. Not at all. I didn’t see me either. Not in my hands, nor in my clothes. Because sometimes when you lovesomething dearly, you can never bring yourself to say a last goodbye.
I could not.
Visiting her house frequently, I had never imposed on her life. I just needed to see her. Be near her. But after the gentleman with the dark hair and green eyes kissed her lips, I stepped away. Retreating into the dark recess of my void. Back toourhome.
When she had stepped foot through the front door for the first time in years, I swore her presence jumpstarted my non-existent heart. I imagined it thumping as it used to for her. Loud, proud, and with so much joy, it burned for her in a way it had for no other woman. Because only a fated bond could beat that way, entwined in another soul as if it were your own.
I couldn’t talk to her when she arrived here withhimlast time, trying to summon me forward with some gods forsaken Ouija board. The force of her incantation almost propelled me through the veil, but I held ever so tight, gripping the photo frame of us in the palm of my hand, not willing to come forward via some wretched tow casting me toward her. The photo of us, on the other hand, didn’t stand a chance. If I was to communicate with her properly, I needed to consider what I would say first. How would I explain myself?
So here I was, milling around the house Iris and I called home for the many plentiful years we spent together. No one would ever live in this place again, not unless it’s her. She deserves to come home. To love this house again. To tinker in the spare room with her fabrics, sew her handkerchiefs and edge them with her favorite lace. Oh, how I wished it wasn’t a distant memory. I wish she could see what I see.
To her, this house is bare. Not an ounce of furniture, nor fabric, nor paint. To me, I see it exactly as it was.
My head spun as the front door slammed, hurried footsteps on naked floorboards quickly following. I drifted through the housetoward the commotion, confusion quickly dissipating as I heard her voice
“Hey! Whoever you are, we need to talk.Now.”
I chuckled at her tone, so confident, like she could summon me with her words alone.
Oh darling, you are a feisty little thing.
I leaned against the wall, smiling as I took in her beauty. Her mousy brown hair fell over the shoulders of her long, black coat, buttoned at the front, a bag hanging off one shoulder. Her fist clenched the strap so tight a full moon paled each knuckle.
My love, what is in your other hand?
Something clung to her side, but from this angle I couldn’t tell what.
She stormed into what used to be our main living area, to the center of the room.
“I mean it!” she demanded, dropping the bag on the ground and spinning in a circle. “I don’t believe you are Landon.”
I bristled at her conclusion, both surprised and impressed she had called my bluff. Because she was right, I was not this person she spoke of.
I remained silent as she stalked over to the opposite side of the room, resting what I now saw to be a mirror in her other hand against the wall. Running my knuckles over the stubble on my jaw, I narrowed my eyes with interest, watching her movements.
Stomping back to the center of the room, she unzipped her bag. The same bag I realized she had brought with her last time.
Not this again.
Emptying the contents, she repeated the same process as her previous visit. The circle of candles, igniting them with one hand in an instant. I was suitably impressed with her ease of control.
She folded her arms to her chest. “I’m not kidding around. If you won’t talk to me, I’m coming toyou.”
Pardon me?
The waiver in those specific words suggested her uneasiness for whateverthiswas. Something inside sank low in my stomach. Suddenly, this scenario did not sit well with me.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Look.” Her gaze veered around the room, sliding passed me with painful disengagement. “I have a fated mate who I can’t bond with.” She paced over to the window, staring out into the slumbering night, a scattering of stars illuminating a cloudless sky. “Something is wrong. He can feel the bond and I can’t, and I desperately want to. If he is fate’s plan for me, I need to fix it.”
Guilt burned deep in my loins at the realization I could be the cause of her displeasure. That was never my intention. I sank to the floor, slamming my eyes closed. Burying my head in my hands, I listened to her voice encapsulate my usual quiet.
“You are the only thing I can think of that might be the cause of this. Talk to me. Help me.Please.”
