Page 25 of One Last Touch

“Don’t waste your energy.” I stood up and wiped my wet face on the sleeve of my coat.

He scowled at me and I could admit that I’d missed the sight of it. “It’s not a waste.’’ I shivered as another, harsher, breeze swept through the air and Sage walked a little faster. “Come on. I don’t want you to catch your death out here. Angie is the one who should tell you the story anyway, she knows more than I do.”

I frowned at him as I struggled to make my frozen legs move faster. “It’s a little too soon for death jokes, thanks.” He snorted and the sound made me smile even as I studied his faintly luminous profile in the dark. “Is this why you wanted me to stay in my room once the sun goes down?”

“Yes,” he said as we approached the front door. “He can’t interact with the world while the sun’s up like the rest of us can, though the more of our energy he steals the easier it becomes for him. After dark, everything’s fair game though.”

“Even you?”

“Even me,” he said grimly, but then smirked as he drifted backward through the front door.

“I knew it,” I hissed as I walked through the door, unable to follow him by just drifting through physical obstructions. “I’d thought maybe someone left the master suite through secret tunnels—I obviously didn’t account for the ability to walk through walls.”

“Yes, well, that’s where you went wrong.” Sage snorted. “Silly you.”

“Tea,” I said firmly after hanging up my coat and shivering some more. “Maybe a fire too.”

“Right away, madam.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well at least I know why this place was in such a state when I first arrived. I thought you were just—”

“Incapable? Lazy?”

“Both,” I admitted and he grinned.

“At least you’re honest.”

“If only you could say the same,” I quipped and then stilled when Ms Weathers walked in the room, a disapproving frown on her face as she looked between us.

“What on earth is going on here? It’s far past sundown.”

“She knows, Angie.” Sage sighed and when he bent to sit in a chair I gasped. Just like my mum’s head wound, Sage had his own death blow imprinted on his spirit.

“Is that a gunshot wound?”

He shook his head. “Knife.”

I winced. “Shit. Sorry.” How had I not noticed it before?

Ms Weathers and Sage looked at me funny before they started laughing and when she tilted her head I could see the necklace of bruises around her neck. Strangulation.

“Twenty-odd years,” she said, “and you’re the first person to say you’re sorry we’re dead. The first person who’s been able to see us long enough to actually apologise, I suppose.”

“How can I see your—” I grimaced, unsure how to word what I wanted to say. “Um, wounds?”

“The moonlight.” Sage sighed and adjusted his overalls slightly as if to hide the blood from me. “Something about it shows our souls as we really are.”

“Dead,” Ms Weathers added, as if it was unclear. “Including our death-mark.”

I eyed the fingerprints ringing her throat before alarm shot through me. “Do your families know—”

“Yes, yes.” Ms Weathers waved me off. “The police handled everything once we were discovered. For all intents and purposes, we’re buried and at peace.”

“Then why are you still here?” I filled the kettle to the brim and then frowned at them both. “Can you even drink this?” They shook their heads and I swore, thinking of all the tea bags I could have saved had I known. “Sage said you should be the one to tell me the full story, that you knew more than him.”

“That’s true.” Ms Weathers nodded and then her eyes flicked between us again. “But first I need to know how this happened. You were never supposed to know, dear. I promised your mother.”

“Well maybe she should have thought about that before she decided to pay me a late night visit,” I said dryly and Sage chuckled. “Oh and then, of course, that was followed up by an encore with her very dead husband at her graveside.”

---