The Messenger

32

Tyler asked himself if he had lost his mind.

He wanted nothing more than to crawl in next to her and make love to her all night.

He could think of nothing that would be more disastrous.

He was-to understate the case-an old man. She might see him as young, might even feel as drawn to him as he was to her. But he was constantly aware that his youthfulness was a charade.

And if he ignored that, what could he suppose would happen in the very near future? She would age, and he would not. That might not bother her at first, but eventually it could not help but affect her-and would most likely subject her to ridicule.

She would die, and he would not-thinking of it was nearly unbearable.

Suppose they decided to seize whatever moments they could find? She had lived all her life here. Being with him would require her to live with constant upheaval.

He thought of all of these objections, and more, and still wanted her, was tempted to be with her, consequences be damned.

Suddenly, Shade came racing into the room, and Amanda gave a little scream. Shade halted near the bed and started barking-while staring at the far wall.

“Shade!”

He stopped barking but continued to growl ferociously at the wall.

Tyler turned the light on but couldn’t see what was bothering the dog.

Tyler turned back to Amanda, who had leaped from the bed and was cringing in the far corner of the room, her face paper white.

“It’s not you,” he said quickly, and took her into his arms. He held her and tried again to get Shade’s attention. Had the dog lost his mind?

“Let him growl,” she said, peering over Tyler’s shoulder.

“I know you’re trying to get used to him,” Tyler said, “but really, this is too much to ask-I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He usually only does this in cemeteries, and then only rarely. He growled a couple of times during our walk tonight.”

“Ghosts,” she said.

“Well, I’ve never seen them myself, but that’s my theory, yes.”

“It’s not a theory,” she said, her voice a little stronger. In fact, she seemed to be over her initial shock. “Good dog, Shade! Keep them away!”

Shade gave a quick wag of his tail but kept growling.

“Them?” Tyler asked in dismay.

“My parents and my aunt and uncle,” she said angrily. “Who have no business being here right now!”

One part of his brain recognized that he was experiencing a rare emotion: fear. The rest was employing every ounce of his willpower to keep him standing there.

“Your parents?” he said faintly.

She looked at him. “You will not convince me you are scared of ghosts! You just went walking in a cemetery after midnight!”

“Shade protects me from them on those walks,” he said as Shade’s growl grew louder. And will protect me now. The thought calmed him. Shade was with him, no ghost would be able to harm him.

“Protects you? You can’t be killed, right?”

“There are worse things,” he said. “Ghosts present a particular hazard to my kind.”

“What hazard?”

“They see my kind as caught between their world and the world of the living. They would have me live an existence closer to theirs instead of this one.”

Amanda stared toward the wall, then said to those she saw there, “I would never forgive you for that! Never!”

The room grew colder, and he felt her shiver. He held on to Amanda, determined that just as Shade protected him, he would protect her.

Shade stopped growling.

“They’re still here,” Amanda whispered. “But they seem to be staying put.”

Shade settled near the foot of the bed. Amanda had grown pensive, and Tyler watched her face as his heartbeat returned to normal. He should let go now, he told himself. He held on to her as he led her back to the bed, then reluctantly released her. She got back under the covers, scooted to the middle of the mattress, and patted the top of the comforter.

He resisted for half a second before sitting down next to her.

“If a ghost attacked you-you’d become a ghost, too?” she asked. “You would die?”

“Not exactly. As I understand it, ghosts aren’t all alike. If I allow a certain type of ghost to approach me, it can have a kind of persuasive power over me. It would try to change my nature to one closer to its own. And since I can’t die-well, I’d become like Colby.”

“Like Colby?” She swallowed hard. “He’s not human?”

“That’s hard to answer. Colby isn’t a ghost, but he’s also not fully one of my kind either-and he’s certainly not merely human. He has some of the powers of each-he got past my security because he can appear and disappear at will, show up at one place, then another. Yet he doesn’t have the invisibility of a ghost-he can’t hide his presence from the living in that way. Like me, he is in his own body. His skin, were you to touch it, would feel like that of anyone-solid, warm-blooded. He has my powers of agelessness, of recovery, but he can’t hear the thoughts of the dying.”

“So what is he?”

“A creature completely devoted to pleasure and mischief, as nearly as I can tell.” He fell silent, thinking of Colby’s visit. “I really handled things the wrong way tonight. Colby loves to provoke, and I allowed him to provoke me. He’s older than I am, and far more experienced in finding another person’s weaknesses. Lately I’ve worried that he’s in trouble or needs to tell me something, but I haven’t controlled my temper long enough to allow us to reach a point where he could confide in me. I should know by now that in any encounter, first he has to try to push my buttons, just to have his fun. It’s his nature.”

“What makes you think he’s in trouble?”

“The number of times he’s been in contact.” He paused, then said, “Perhaps he’s happy in some way I don’t comprehend. But lately, I think he’s regretted giving up his usefulness. He’s a man without a purpose, in essence. Agelessness is not an existence I could bear without a purpose. And I do not envy ghosts, who may be devoted to some purpose, but are unable to do much about it.”

“I can understand why you wouldn’t want their existence. I have to admit, I haven’t really thought about what it’s like for the four who haunt me. I’ve always been fairly sure they weren’t real.”

“How long have you seen them?”

“When I woke up in the hospital, after the accident, they were in the room. Ron and I have been trying to come up with an explanation for them for years. At first, I thought it was just my head injury, and then I thought it was guilt, you know, especially because they wear evening clothes, dressed like they were on that last night. But they weren’t even buried in those clothes.” She glanced at the dog. “It’s kind of a relief to know Shade sees them. I’ve thought I was crazy.”

“You’ve had to cope with seeing ghosts for eight years?”

“Yes. Only those four ghosts. They don’t harm me. They don’t speak. Just startle me now and then. I’m the only one they bother. For whatever reason.” She frowned. “What is the reason? I mean, why do they hang around me?”

He thought for a while, then said, “They may be protecting you.” Something else was troubling him, though. “All these years, Ron is the only other person who has known about them?”

“Yes. I once tried telling Rebecca and Brad about them. Years ago. They really didn’t let up about that for a long time.”

“You told me they blame you for the accident. Do you blame yourself?”

“Most days, no. Some days, I think I should have stood up to them. Rebecca says, ‘You knew they were drunk, why didn’t you insist they call a cab?’ And I don’t really have a good answer for that one.”

Tyler looked toward the wall, at which Shade was still staring. “Have you asked them if they blame you?”

“I don’t think there’s much I haven’t asked them. But they don’t respond.”

“Do you blame her for your deaths?” Tyler asked, hoping he was looking somewhere near them.

Her eyes seemed to follow some movement, and she started crying.

“Amanda-what’s wrong?”

“They shook their heads.”

He took her hand. “I’m sure they never blamed you.”

“They’re agreeing with you.” She wiped her tears away with her free hand, then said, “They’ve never made so much as a gesture in my presence until now. Just stared at me. Ask them why the hell they’re answering you when they’ve never answered me!”

He did so.

“Now they’re shrugging. I guess they don’t know.”

“Is Amanda’s guess right?” Tyler asked, speaking to the ghosts. “You don’t understand?”

“Um, I don’t think they know how to reply. My aunt and my mom are nodding and my dad and my uncle are shaking their heads.”

“Oh, I see,” Tyler said. “Shrug if you don’t understand why it is you can’t speak to her.”

“They’re shrugging.”

“But I’m acting as some sort of bridge between you and Amanda?”

“They’re nodding.”

“Why are you here this evening?” he asked.

“They’re pointing between us,” she said. “Because we’re together?” she asked indignantly.

Tyler repeated the question.

She turned to Tyler. “It’s a little phony of them to act as if they care about me now.”

But they did care about her. Of that, Tyler felt sure. They didn’t blame her for their deaths, so they weren’t haunting her out of vengeance. They lingered to protect her. And here he was, sitting on a bed next to their daughter, and he could not deny that he desired her. No wonder they had chosen this moment to appear.

He looked down into her tear-stained face. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Is there a way to get rid of them?”

“Believe me, if I knew of one, I would have used it a long time ago.”

“I wonder if there is some way I can help you with this.”

She studied his face. He had already become used to this, he realized, this straightforward, unabashed examination of him. Hours ago, he had decided to let her take her time to see whatever she could see in his eyes, the set of his mouth, whatever else it was she chose to stare at, and had not taken offense. Of course, it gave him a chance to study her in return.

“You aren’t making me a project, are you? I mean, I’m not just some poor soul in need of assistance?”

He smiled. “No. Far from it.”

Her attention was diverted. “They’re gone.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes, thanks.”

He stood up. He wondered if he was imagining the disappointment he saw on her face. He turned out the light and settled on the floor next to her.

“Maybe I shouldn’t stay in here,” she said. “I’m afraid of what the ghosts might do to you.”

“Shade won’t let them do anything to me. But we need to figure out what they want, I think.”

She brooded in silence over that. After a few minutes, she said, “I feel guilty, taking your bed from you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine. Truly.”

Eventually, she fell asleep.

He listened to the rhythm of her breathing, watched her face in repose.

He did not doubt that something had drawn them together-his ability to free up her communication with her ghosts was just one more sign of that. He was equally sure that despite the strong attraction he felt for her, he had a choice in the matter. He simply had no desire to look elsewhere. Something about Amanda just felt…right.

He thought of her acceptance of him, and felt a kind of contentment unlike any he had ever experienced. Something more than gratitude-although he was indeed grateful.

He desired her, but he wasn’t going to hurt her, or fail to proceed with caution. He would not spend the next two hundred years regretting carelessness with her.

Shade got up and stood next to him long enough to accept a few soft scratches on the ears and chin, then left to stand on the deck again. There, he intently watched something out in the woods. The ghosts must have relocated. Or perhaps Colby was enjoying himself by teasing the dog. If so, he wouldn’t get away with that for long.

It was nearly dawn when Shade came in to settle beside him.

Tyler watched the sky lighten-just before, contrary to all his intentions, he fell asleep.