Body Temperature and Rising - Book One of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy (19 page)

‘That’s right, you are, and it can be a bit disorienting to come down from the first ride. We always make a point of having someone there when the new rider wakes up, or soon after. And since you’re a dreamer, I was the best choice.’

He laid down the toast he’d just spread marmalade on and wiped his hands on the serviette. ‘Did you know? That I would do what I did, that it would be Lisette?’

‘It wasn’t planned, if that’s what you mean. But I had a hunch that perhaps, if you were in your own space, you would be able to relax a bit more and do what we all knew you could do given the right circumstances.’

‘And you provided the right circumstances?’

‘I didn’t have to, Tim. In fact, I didn’t have to do anything. Anderson picked up on the magic while monitoring the Ether for Marie’s ride. You followed your instincts, as I suspected you would.’ She held his gaze. ‘You followed your heart.’ 

He stuffed half the piece of toast in his mouth and swallowed without chewing. ‘It wasn’t a sympathy fuck, if that’s what you mean.’

‘You’re hardly the sympathy fucking type, Tim, give me a little credit for being smarter than that.’ The mocha maker on the stove began to gurgle, and she stood to pour fresh coffee. 

He wondered if Fiori had purchased that for him too. He wondered if he should be offended at the way the Elementals seemed to be barging right into his life. Give them an inch, he thought. And yet Tara dressed so invitingly, so unassumingly, making him breakfast after he had fucked all night didn’t seem like too much of a hardship to endure.

When she leaned over to set his cup on the table, he pulled her down onto his lap, and his anxious cock pressed upward against one deliciously round arse cheek. She responded with a lingering kiss that tasted of coffee and marmalade all blended up with her own intriguing taste. He could smell the last residual of her own foray into the dream world on her skin, between her breasts, in the pits of her arms as she encircled his neck in a lazy embrace. 

She pulled away with a flick of tongue and repositioned herself so that she straddled him face to face. ‘I won’t fuck you, Tim, no matter how damn sexy you are.’

He ran a heavy finger down over the crotch of her shorts, easily tracing the swollen splay of her cunt. She uttered a soft grunt and shifted against him. The heat of her radiated over his fingertips. ‘You hide it well, I’ll give you that, but at the end of the day, you’re even more neurotic than I am, Tara Stone.’ 

She raked her khakied pussy hard against his erection and he gasped at the exquisite agony of it. ‘I’m more neurotic than anyone, Tim Meriwether, and it won’t be you who psychoanalyses me to the cure.’ She nipped his lower lip between her front teeth. ‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other come.’ She raked him again then found a rhythm that made it feel as close to fucking as it could get without being the real thing, a rhythm he was happy to match. Shockingly he could even feel the grip and release of her swollen lips through the thin layer of khaki, as it rubbed his cock solicitously. As he ploughed his way, mouth first into her cleavage in a nosedive toward the nearest nipple, he wondered briefly if she was using some kind of magic on him, but he didn’t care.

She wrapped her thighs around him and gripped the legs of the ladder back chair with her ankles for more leverage, enough leverage to convince him that with their combined efforts they would grind right through their clothes and end up fucking anyway. But he wasn’t going to last anywhere near long enough for that, and she was already spasming. The grip and release and slip and slide of her shuddering slit through scant layers of clothing was enough to send him. He grabbed her arse and held her splayed so that as the front of his track bottoms darkened with each spurt of semen, his wetness rubbed against her until her own crotch seam was dark and soaked. He hoped it was as much from her juices as from his. 

He didn’t know how long they sat wrapped around each other gasping and groaning for breath. They might have drifted off there, in each other’s arms, at the breakfast table, and Tim couldn’t think of a better way to end a great breakfast. 

It was the beeper for Mountain Rescue that brought him back to reality. And it wasn’t a nice one. 

‘What is it? Tim … What wrong? Your hands are shaking.’ Tara’s voice dragged him back to the kitchen and he released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

‘Some walkers found a body. They think maybe a suicide off Raven Crag. Tara, where’s Serina?’

Tara was instantly on her mobile, which she’d left lying on the credenza. He hurried off to dress. When he returned, her face was pale, her lips set in a tight line. ‘Serina’s gone, Tim. They thought she was asleep in her room until my call.’

Chapter 19

‘So this is what you’ve been reduced to, Marie Warren, offering your cunt to rutting ghosts like some whore.’ 

Marie had just bent to pick up her shoes. There’d barely been time to feel the burn in her belly when she saw Deacon’s reflection in the globe of the kerosene lamp still burning low inside the cave. The skin prickled up her neck as she whirled around to find no one there. But she felt the warm breath of laughter against her ear. 

‘Remember, Marie, I can be wherever I want to be. And I can choose if you feel me or not.’ And suddenly the physical press of his body forced her back against the wall of the cave. ‘As I recall, you rather enjoyed the feel of me, even though you wouldn’t admit it.’

His invisible hand splayed wide against the small of her back, and she could feel his hard cock against her belly as the press of him rucked up the front of her dress. ‘Serina Ravenmoor finds that gift of mine intriguing, incidentally. She likes what I can do to her in public places, in plain sight, that no one else can see.’ She felt his chuckle against her neck. ‘Rather, I should say she did like it. Serina Ravenmoor is dead now. She jumped off Raven Crag.’

‘You’re lying,’ she gasped, struggling in vain to push the weight of him off her. ‘Serina is safe away from you.’

She felt the brush of his lips against her nape and a hand moved up over her neck and throat with just enough pressure to feel threatening. ‘My dearest Marie, your first mistake is to assume that Serina wanted to be safe away from me. Though she was a bit of a dolt when it came to her craft, even she could manage an elementary scrying spell, enough to call me to her rescue. Oh, don’t look so distressed, my dear. Serina Ravenmoor’s last hours were the highlight of her life. I kept her happy, made her feel valued, satisfied her voracious appetite, and that was all she really wanted. Even to the very end as she stepped off over the edge of the fell, her heart was full of her Deacon, of her dark angel, as she called me.

‘Oh, the coroner will say it was suicide, Marie, and they will find her lovely scrying mirror, the one you threatened to send me back through, shattered into tiny little pieces. In fact it will be Mr Meriwether who finds her. Well, it was actually a couple of unfortunate walkers who found her, but Mountain Rescue is already on its way to retrieve her poor shattered corpse, and Mr Meriwether, being a faithful member of the team, is with them. Such guilt he’ll feel. I shall savour the memory of such delicious self-blame for months to come. Ah, but his guilt will be as nothing compared to Tara Stone’s. You look pale, my love. Have you not been feeling well?’

He tut-tutted. ‘I must have a talk with Fiori. Perhaps she’s not feeding you well. Perhaps now that she’s dead, she has forgotten the nutritional requirements of the living. But that’s not the reason I’ve come, my dear Marie.’ He stepped away and she nearly fell forward at the sudden release. Still he was only visible in the shimmering globe of the lamp. Leaning heavily against the wall of the cave, she kept her eyes on the reflection.

‘The reason for my visit is to thank you and Mr Meriwether for finding me such an extensive list of Help Meets.’

‘Help Meets? What are you talking about?’

‘Not being a product of the technological age, I was completely unaware of just how many, so called, witches there are in Cumbria until you and Mr Meriwether put your heads together for a little online research. Nor did I know how desperately some of them long for someone from the other side to guide them, comfort them, satisfy their carnal lusts, nay even abuse them. Oh how they long to be martyrs for their respective deities.’

Marie found herself suddenly fighting like hell to keep from hyperventilating. Her heart went into overdrive hammering against her throat. ‘Why? Serina did nothing to you. None of them have?’

He moved back close to her and slid a curled finger down the curve of her throat and her heart accelerated still further. ‘Oh, I have nothing against any of them. But until I get what I want, I will make do with what is available to me. I have my eye on a lovely witch over in Rosthwaite at the moment. Well she considers herself a witch anyway. A good divorce settlement from an over-controlling husband has converted her to Paganism. 

‘Can you imagine? Back in my day being a witch meant something. And even though Tara Stone and her lackeys have you spreading your legs for rutting ghosts, I cannot deny that it takes a certain skill to manage such. In my day, you certainly didn’t brag about being a witch unless you were anxious to meet a fiery death. You kept your skills to yourself. And yet in your modern world, you can purchase a few trinkets from a local curiosity shop and voila! You are a witch, and very proud of it, indeed. And you may freely advertise it all over the internet without fear of retribution and without the least bit embarrassment at your complete and utter lack of skill. Ah, such a brave new world, Marie.’

Dark spots swam in front of Marie’s eyes and there was not enough oxygen in the cave, as cold sweat broke on her forehead and between her breasts. Damn it! She didn’t need this right now! She struggled to listen to what Deacon was saying.

He laid a hand against her clammy face. ‘My dear, you really aren’t well, are you? If I didn’t know better, I would say perhaps you are suffering from a panic attack. Yes, I believe you are prone to such maladies, are you not? You had them often in your silly little world of material wealth and money grubbing where there was nothing at all to fear really, not in the grand scheme of the universe. Such a foolish waste of energy when there are so many truly marvellous reasons for fear and panic.’ He brushed her nipple with the tip of his finger and her heart felt as though it would hammer its way out of her chest. ‘Now then, my dear Marie, I will make my meaning perfectly clear. I gave Serina Ravenmoor an easy death because in spite of being an imbecile, she served me well. However, our lovely divorcee in Rosthwaite will not be so lucky, I fear. And the one after her. Well I shudder to think.’ 

‘Why are you doing this?’ Marie managed between gasps for breath. Her heart jackhammering in her chest had become painful. 

‘Simple, my darling. If I cannot have what I want, I will take what I can get.’ He tut-tutted again. ‘I can be such an unpleasant fellow when I don’t get what I want.’

‘What do you want, damn it!’ It took all she had to force the words up through her tightened throat. 

‘Why, my dear, I would have thought you would be smart enough to figure that out. But then it is terribly hard to think when one is so overwhelmed by fear. Is it not? I want you and Mr Meriwether.’ He waved a hand as though he were shooing away an insect. ‘Oh, I have no interest in either of you personally, but Tara Stone does, and that, my lovely, is enough to intrigue me terribly.’

He pressed tight against her. ‘I will eventually have my way, Marie Warren, and the sooner I get it, the fewer curiosity shop witches I shall have to play with to appease my bad temper.’ Suddenly he spoke so close to her ear it felt like he was inside her head. ‘Their lives are in your hands, Marie Warren, yours and Mr Meriwether’s. Remember that when next he is called to Raven Crag, for I promise the next corpse he finds will not be so easily identifiable when I’ve had my way. Oh, and Marie, you are exquisite when you’re terrified, perhaps even more so than when you’re flushed with arousal.’

As quickly as he came, he was gone, and Anderson and Sky found Marie in a foetal position, trembling on the floor of the cave. 

Tim’s face was pale and drawn when Anderson let him into Elemental Cottage. ‘Where’s Marie,’ he asked. ‘Is she all right?’

‘I’m here.’ She took him in her arms, savouring his warmth and his solidness, but knowing he was as shaken as she was. She swallowed hard and found her voice. ‘It was Serina, then.’

She felt him nod against her shoulder and tighten his embrace. He really didn’t need to say. They all knew. 

‘Marie’s had a visit from Deacon, while you were away,’ Tara said. ‘He was only too happy to crow about Serina.’ Whatever Tara added under her breath, Marie figured probably wasn’t fit for proper company.

They all adjourned to the study, and when both Tim and Marie finished telling their stories, the room was silent for a long moment, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Tim spoke at last. ‘Everything was exactly as Deacon said it would be, except for the scrying mirror. We never found that. Do you suppose he took it?’

‘He couldn’t have,’ Tara said. ‘When ghosts leave the flesh, they can only take what they died with.’

‘Still,’ Tim said, ‘I can’t help wondering why he felt it was so important to mention the mirror unless it really was possible for Marie to put him back the same way she released him.’

‘Come to think of it,’ Marie said, ‘other than our first encounter on Maiden Moor, Deacon has only ever approached me through mirrors or glass.’

‘And you said your compass was misplaced, is that not so?’ Anderson asked.

She nodded.

‘You usually wear it around your neck, do you not?’

She nodded again. ‘I suppose it would be reflective enough but it was overcast.’

‘Not at the beginning of the day, it wasn’t,’ Tara said. 

Marie felt the skin crawl up the back of her neck. ‘Then you think he was that close to me all the time?’

‘Wait a minute,’ Tim said. ‘He’s never used a mirror with me.’

‘Of course not. It’s easiest, and best for him to approach you through your dreams,’ Tara said. ‘Like we talked about this morning. He’s using both your strengths and your vulnerabilities. He can do this because you’re not yet well trained. Until you are, your strengths will also be your weak points. On the other hand, he fancies approaching at that juncture where your strengths lie. It’s sort of a power play, if you will, a way of demoralising you, demoralising all of us.

‘Marie, I want you to try something for me, if you would please?’ Tara said.

Marie nodded, leaning forward in her seat. 

‘Look into your mirror and think about Serina Ravenmoor. Think about her as you knew her in as much detail as you can.’

Marie pulled the silver chain with the mirror on it from between her breasts, where it had warmed to her body temperature. For a few seconds, she breathed deeply, gazing at her own reflection, as if by doing so she could feel the ebb and flow of her own body. The room around her was silent, but she could hear the breath of every one present, including the ghosts. She could hear heartbeats, shifting of clothing against skin, even blood flowing through veins. And then a current of heat started low in her sacrum, shot upward through her spine and burst in her head in a flash of blue black darkness, leaving only the mirror itself visible to her. 

A swell of sickness clenched cold and tight in her belly rushing down past the darkness and dissipating like waves receding on a beach, leaving her breathless and drenching her in cold sweat. Somewhere from a long way off she heard Tara encouraging her to stay with it, to focus on Serina Ravenmoor.

Struggling to keep from disgracing herself further than she already had with the earlier panic attack, Marie did as she was asked, clenching her jaw tight, trying to breathe deeply, focusing on the mirror until her eyes hurt. 

‘Marie, trust me,’ she heard Tara say. ‘I know it feels bad at the moment. But please trust me. It’ll be all right.’

These days, Marie wasn’t so confident that anything would ever be all right again, but she did trust Tara. 

There was a roar in her ears like a waterfall, and suddenly the blackness shifted and changed. There were night sounds all around, and she was on Raven Crag, standing on the very edge of the precipice. She was chilled and she hurt. She hurt badly, and yet she had set aside the pain, as though it belonged to someone else. Her fingers cramped from clutching the mirror so tightly. And when she lifted it to her face, it was his face she saw over her shoulder leering at her with eyes like fire. 

And she knew him. For the first time since he had come to her, she knew him for what he was. And for a split second she was alone in the universe, in a place where he couldn’t touch her. That was all the time she had. He wanted her to jump. She knew he did, and in the end he would drive her to it in terror, though not before he had the chance to fully reveal himself to her. But she already knew who he was, what he was. He wouldn’t forgive lightly her stealing his revelation. 

But for this split second she could deny him that satisfaction. For this split second she could deny him the pleasure of hurting her further. For this split second her will was her own. Clutching the mirror with his image caught in it, she stepped into emptiness, and as she fell, she had the presence of mind for one last act. She flung everything he had been to her, everything he had done to her, all of it back through the mirror, and in her mind, called out the only name she could trust. Tim Meriwether. 

That was all.

Marie came back to herself in Tim’s arms, her mirror still clutched in her hand. For a second the faces of the others swam in and out of focus, then everything became clear. ‘I saw his face,’ she said, amazed at how calm she suddenly felt. I mean his real face, the way Serina Ravenmoor saw him just before she jumped to her death. And I saw all of what he did to her.’ In spite of herself she blushed, and in spite of the fact that she couldn’t stop shivering, she felt aroused. ‘She jumped to get away from him, and she did it with a clear head.’

Fiori brought her a glass of water and she drank it down in thirsty gulps, then Anderson settled the throw from the sofa around her shoulders. In her head, she sorted through everything she had seen in the mirror. It was as though she had actually been Serina Ravenmoor for the few days she had known Deacon. The detail of it all would have been terrifying if she had not also found herself so drawn to him. Every time he made love to Serina it felt as though it had been her he entered. And suddenly it hit her.