Waking the Dead (18 page)

“We’re fine,” John called back. “Just put the kettle on, will you?”

There was a pause and then Josh said in a puzzled voice. “Sure, but…why?”

John snorted. They were close enough now that Nick was counting the steps until he was inside their home. “Because there’s times when you need whisky, right enough, but if I started drinking now, I wouldn’t stop. I’ll get Nick settled and then show you how to make a proper pot of tea.”

Three, two… no, that last one had been more of a shuffle…

“I could carry you,” John said, pitching his voice low for Nick’s ears only, “but I think you’d sooner climb the stairs on your own. And, no, the sofa won’t do; you’re going to bed and that’s that.”

They were in the house now, and Nick just put his head down, let his feet do the work, and watched the carpet until it became the dark green covering their bedroom floor. Then he counted the steps again from the door to their bed.

“Easy, love, easy…” John was practically carrying him now, his arms around Nick. “There we go.”

Their bed had always felt like a haven, somewhere he and John could forget everything but the comfort and heat to be found in each other’s bodies, but right then, it felt like heaven. Nick let John strip him down to T-shirt and shorts and then used what energy he had left to get under the covers, curled up with John’s hand locked in his, John lying beside him.

He closed his eyes in what was meant to be a blink, but when he opened them again he knew it had been a lot longer. “What time is it?”

John smiled like it was a funny question, then turned his head to check the clock. “A bit after ten.”

“Have I been asleep long?” Nick’s mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. His throat was dry, and he ached. He wondered why his hand felt funny until he realized his fingers were still entwined with John’s.

“Not long. I did wonder if you were out for the night.”

“I probably should be.”

The bedroom door was open, but Josh knocked gently at the frame anyway. “Hey,” he said softly. “Cait showed me how to make the tea. Do you want us to bring some up?”

Tea, heavily laced with sugar, sounded like a fantastic idea. “Yes, please,” Nick said, and lay there listening to the steps creaking as Josh went back downstairs. “Stay here, okay?”

John nodded. “I will. You think I’d want to leave you after what we went through today?”

“I think it’d be reasonable for you to think you could go downstairs when we’re safe in our own house.” Nick’s fingers felt clumsy as he tugged at the front of John’s shirt in an attempt to illustrate a point he wasn’t even sure existed. “And we are. Safe, I mean. I just feel like I don’t want you too far away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” John’s hand came up and his fingers circled Nick’s wrist in a firm, warm grip. “Not until I get over thinking I’d lost you.”

His thumb stroked the pulse point on Nick’s inner wrist, and Nick felt the light caress tingle through him. He was still too tired to respond physically, but it didn’t stop him tilting his head for a kiss John readily gave him. It was a slow, sweet kiss, heady as whisky, and it left Nick feeling dizzy and yet anchored in a way he hadn’t been before. Part of him had still been walking with the ghosts, his feet treading a path no one living should take; that single kiss drew him back, so that when it ended he was back in his world, back with John.

Something that looked like contentment flickered across John’s face. “Aye,” he said. “And when you’re better I’ll do more than kiss you, but I can wait.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs came before Nick could reply. John shifted his position so that he was sitting on the bed instead of lying on it, and slipped his hand into Nick’s. Nick managed to sit up, which made him feel less like an invalid, and gave Josh and Caitrin a smile as they tiptoed in, a laden tray wobbling in Josh’s hands.

“Just set it down over there, lad,” John said, indicating a small table by the wall. “Nick takes his with sugar, and I don’t.”

“I’ll do it,” Caitrin said, her voice subdued. When they were all settled on the bed, mugs of tea in hand -- Josh was sipping gingerly at his, which amused Nick -- a silence fell around them.

Then, “It’s not,” Josh said. He was looking at Caitrin, but as soon as she turned her face toward him, he flushed and looked down. “Sorry.”

“You should be.” Caitrin was calm, but it was clear that she didn’t like it one bit that Josh had read whatever it was she’d been thinking. “Has no one ever told you what it feels like, to realize that someone’s been poking around in your head as if they’ve no concept of privacy?”

Josh blinked. “I can’t help wanting to use what I can do.”

“I think it’s time you learned,” John said bluntly. “You’re not a wee lad anymore; you’re a man, or near enough, and you can’t continue like this. It’s just not right.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Josh glared at John, the temper Nick had seen hints of over the years seeming to get the better of him. “You have no idea what it’s like.”

“No, I dare say I don’t.” John sounded infuriatingly calm, the way he got with Caitrin when she pushed him too far. Nick was sometimes there as a silent spectator -- Caitrin never minded an audience when she was venting -- and once John got that tone to his voice, he started counting down in his head to the moment when Caitrin would give an infuriated growl, spin on her heel, and leave, slamming the door behind her.

“I don’t,” John repeated, “but I do know that I’m not seeing much evidence that you’re even trying to control it.” Josh opened his mouth, angry words almost visibly trembling on his lips, but John continued, ignoring him. “And why would you? It’s so handy, isn’t it? Gives you the inside track in a way any lad your age would want. You can make people like you; get in their heads and see what they
don’t
fancy about you, and fix it. And exams… how tempting is it to get the answers from someone brighter than you when they’re sitting two desks over, their brains focused and sharp while yours is all fuzzy and --”

“No!” Josh scrambled off the bed, all long legs and flailing arms, his mug landing on the floor with a dull thud. He glared at John, his face scarlet, his eyes showing the glisten of gathering tears. “I
wouldn’t
. I haven’t. I wouldn’t do that. I just -- I’ve
never
cheated!”

“No?” John drawled, unmoving and unmoved. Caitrin looked agitated, her face as flushed as Josh’s, her expression one of pure misery. “Think it’s a step up from studying body language, do you? A natural ability you’ve every right to use? Well, think again! You’re a wolf in with the sheep, boy, disguised in a nice, fluffy white fleece, but still a wolf.”

“I can’t -- I don’t have to listen --” Josh stammered. He turned to Nick. “Nick?
You
know. Tell him. Tell him I’m not a -- not a freak. Not what he says.
Tell
him.” His voice cracked.

Nick was so torn it was physically painful. He knew how John felt about Josh’s ability, and he understood why John felt that way, but he also knew what it was like to be something, someone, who was different from everyone else on such a basic level. “You’re not a freak,” he said, because he had to say something before too much more time went by. “And John doesn’t think you are. You know that.”

“But I’m not
supposed
to know it, am I.” Josh sounded as miserable as Caitrin looked. “I can’t win. Every time I think I’ve figured everything out, and I’m going to be okay…”

“Welcome to the real world,” Nick said wryly.

Josh sighed. “So this is it? It never gets easier?”

“Life? No, not really.” Nick glanced at John, who was letting them talk on their own even though he surely had a dozen things or more to contribute to the conversation. “When you find someone who understands you, that helps a lot, but it’s not a permanent solution. What we have, you and I -- it’s a permanent challenge. You’ll figure things out, but there’ll always be some new wrench thrown in.”

“It’s been so much better lately.” Josh got one of the cloth napkins tucked onto the tea tray and knelt to wipe up his spilled tea. Concentrating on the task seemed to calm him down. “I really thought I was getting a handle on it, you know?”

“And then all this happened, and your control’s all screwed up,” Nick agreed. “I know. It’ll get better again.”

“But you need to clamp down on this power of yours,” John said firmly. “Cait said it as well as I could -- it makes my skin crawl knowing you’re poking about in my head the way you do. It has to stop.”

“But I need to use it,” Josh said, glancing up at John, no animosity in his eyes, just an anxiety that touched Nick. “I was given it, and there has to be a reason for that. And today -- I helped; you know I did.”

“Aye,” John agreed readily. “I don’t have a word to say about that -- well, no bad ones, anyway. You did well, and it must have been scary as hell. I was proud of you, and I know Nick is, too, isn’t that right, love?”

Nick nodded. Proud and terrified, even now that it was over and Josh -- all of them -- were safe.

“But you must be able to see the difference between using it like that and using it to see if young Cait here has a mind to kiss you --”

“Uncle John!” Caitrin gave John’s arm a solid thump. “Josh isn’t the only one who needs to mind his own business.”

John grinned unrepentantly. “Maybe.” His grin faded and his attention returned to Josh. “Well? Do you? See the difference, I mean?”

Josh nodded slowly. “Yeah, of course I do.”

“And as for using it --” John blew out a gusty breath. “I can think of a few places it’d be useful and allowable; you’d be good as a cop. No one could lie to you. Or a therapist.” He shrugged. “I don’t know you well enough to know what you want to do with your life. I just know you need to work on controlling what you can do before someone gets hurt.” He eyed Josh. “And if anyone works out what you can do, that someone might be you, and that’s not something I’d like to see.”

Nick hadn’t ever really let himself think about that, even though deep down he knew it was a possibility, for himself as well as Josh. He didn’t
want
to think about it.

“I
can
control it, most of the time,” Josh explained. “It’s just when things get kind of crazy that it starts to slip, and if I don’t have anyone around to remind me…”

Nick had been luckier than he’d realized in that respect when he’d been Josh’s age. At least he’d had Matthew, who’d known him so well -- even when he didn’t -- and who’d helped him keep it together through all those years. Matthew wouldn’t have been happy here on Traighshee, but he’d approve of the books Nick had written, even if he’d have urged Nick to take it further, to accept the offers of television shows and whatever might have followed.

“But you must have friends you can share this with,” Caitrin protested. “People you trust.”

Josh shook his head. “Would you? Be willing to hang around with someone like me, I mean, knowing what you know?”

“I would. Yes.” Caitrin seemed sure of it, and by the look on Josh’s face he was as surprised by her declaration as Nick was, even if it didn’t necessarily mean much considering Josh would be going home in a week or so.

Josh gave Caitrin a smile that, to his older brother, looked on the way to being besotted. “You know something? You match, inside and out. You never think one thing and tell me another. It’s so… God, it’s such a relief.” He turned to John and Nick. “You two do it, too,” he said, clearly as a hasty afterthought, “but you already knew about me. Caitrin was like that from the moment I met her.”

Nick watched Caitrin’s face turn a delicate pink and sipped at his tea to hide his smile. With every moment, he was feeling better. Not enough to want to get out of bed, no, but better.

It meant that the questions John had fended off with a glare at the constable, Lewis Armstrong, and some choice words, would be heading his way soon, but Nick imagined Lewis had his hands full interviewing the other witnesses, all of whom were probably bombarding him with conflicting accounts of what, to an outside observer, had maybe been nothing more than a car crash with one of the drivers wandering around dazed and then collapsing, dead.

If you overlooked the ghosts, of course.

Nick hadn’t had any idea what was going to happen when he’d walked into the graveyard, hands steady but something inside his chest trembling. He’d communicated with hundreds of ghosts, maybe thousands, that had died leaving important things undone, important words unsaid, but he’d never deliberately tried to wake ghosts that had been sleeping for years. He still wasn’t sure why it had worked; it might have had something to do with the spell done so many years before.

“Nick?” John said gently, getting his attention, and he looked up. Everyone was watching him.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about the ghosts. The other ones, the villagers.” He watched as John’s thumb rubbed across his knuckles soothingly and did his best not to shiver. “I still don’t know why I was able to get them to come back.”

“I’m not sure they were really gone.” Josh frowned thoughtfully.

“Do you think they were trapped?” Nick asked.

Josh nodded, leaning forward. “I wondered if the spell went wrong, somehow, and caught them, too? Because it was like they couldn’t leave. That was the impression I got, anyway…”

“That’s horrible.” Caitrin shuddered. “I mean, you could say it was justice in a way, but still…”

“I think it’s more that like it or not, their fates were all,” John let go of Nick’s hand and slotted his fingers together to illustrate his point, “knotted together, aye?” He drew his hands apart and then patted Nick’s knee through the covers. “Until you unraveled them. And I don’t know where they’ve all gone, but I’m a sentimental devil, just ask anyone, so I’ll believe it was to somewhere above, not below, and maybe light a candle for them the next time I’m in church.”

Since they’d gotten a new minister who, unlike his predecessor, didn’t cross the street to avoid John and Nick, John did occasionally go with his mother and stepfather to church, although most Sundays when the church bells rang out, he rolled over, draped his arm over Nick, sighed contentedly, and went back to sleep.