Chapter One
Laurie
I wasn’t sure what time it was when the bedroom door creaked slowly open, only that it was dark and sweltering hot despite both the windows being thrown wide open.
“Laurie…” Theo’s voice was soft and thick with sleep, but there was a lingering note of pain in the way he said my name. I rolled over and threw back the thin sheet covering me.
“Bad dream?” I asked quietly as I patted the mattress. Theo hesitated in the door, the outline of his slight frame barely visible against the darkness. He hadn’t even put the landing light on.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He hadn’t answered my question, which meant it had been a bad one. I hated the way he hesitated because I’d never seen him be unsure about anything.
“I’m sure. Please come here.”
Theo nodded before padding over to the bed and climbing in beside me.
He was wearing a pair of baby-blue short pyjamas patterned with white rabbits and was clutching a large stuffed bunny.
I smiled as he slid into my arms, the bunny between us, because I’d bought him that rabbit for his birthday after we’d first met.
It was made of some sort of soft white velveteen material with pink silk inside the ears and a little pink nose and stitched smile, with large stitched eyes that I’d found disturbing but Theo adored.
The rabbit, affectionately known as Basil, was objectively the cutest thing Theo owned, but I’d always considered it to be creepier than any of his taxidermy collection.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked as he snuggled into me, resting his head under my chin. His blond hair tickled my skin and smelt strongly of strawberries.
“Not really,” he said. “I’d rather just forget it.”
“Okay.” I tilted my head to press a kiss to the top of his head, then hesitated.
Up until eight weeks ago, I’d known exactly what Theo and I were to each other: best friends, roommates, and co-workers.
We were very close and affectionate with each other, but that had never seemed to be an issue until Theo’s friend and colleague, Austin, had referred to me as Theo’s boyfriend.
Those words had broken something between us, but I didn’t know what.
All I knew was that everything was out of alignment, like someone had taken my view of the world and turned it a couple of degrees.
And I had no idea how to right it.
Theo let out a snuffling sigh, and I tightened my grip around him, running my fingers up and down his spine as soothingly as I could.
I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, not caring if it felt strange.
Theo was in pain, and I never wanted to see him suffer.
He’d endured so much hurt in the past that all I wanted was for him to be happy.
“I’m here,” I said quietly. “I’ve got you. I’ll always be here for you.”
“You can’t make that promise,” Theo said.
“Yes, I can. I will always be here for you, Theo. I promise.”
He sighed and settled in my arms and a few minutes later I heard his breathing even out as he drifted off.
My fingers continued to drift up and down his spine, the gesture becoming automatic.
I was pleased that, despite the recent awkwardness between us, Theo had still come to me for comfort.
I’d have hated to wake up in the morning and discover he’d had a bad night and kept it to himself.
Not that I’d have been cross with Theo, just with myself for not realising. Logically, I knew that if I was asleep and Theo was quiet, there was very little chance of my knowing, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like I should automatically be able to sense when he was in distress.
I stared up at the ceiling, the slight wisps of dust and cobwebs in the corner reminding me I hadn’t dusted in here recently. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had time; it was just that I preferred to spend my small amount of free time doing anything else but housework.
I didn’t know how long it would take me to fall asleep again, especially with Theo pressed up against me and radiating heat like a furnace. I had never enjoyed hot weather, and Heather Bay was currently suffering under a heat wave that was testing every thread of my patience and sanity.
There had been times over the past few weeks when the daytime temperature had crawled towards forty that I’d considered just packing up my office and making a temporary desk in the corner of the funeral home’s cold storage.
The dead had never frightened me, and I’d always considered them to be excellent company, but my solution was impractical due to health and safety considerations as well as space.
In the end I’d resorted to buying several expensive fans and having the windows open wherever possible in the hope of luring in a sea breeze.
Perhaps it would be worth lugging one of the fans up to the flat if Theo was going to end up spending more time in my room.
I knew if he’d had one nightmare, he was likely to have another.
Past experience had taught me they tended to come in bursts, playing out over several nights until they reached their climax and allowed Theo to escape their shrouded snare.
Theo shifted in my arms, throwing his leg over mine and wiggling until he was lying half on top of me like an adorable weighted blanket, leaving Basil’s plastic nose to dig into my ribs.
I wondered if I’d get any more sleep or whether I’d be awake until the sun blossomed over the horizon.
I must have dozed off eventually, though, because the sound of my work phone ringing shocked me awake.
I sat up with a gasp and Theo tumbled gently off my chest as I scrabbled for the phone resting on my bedside table.
The clock on the screen told me it was just before seven and I quickly tried to wiggle my tongue and jaw as I swiped the call button so I didn’t sound like I’d just woken up.
“Winchester they didn’t need to manage mine as well.
Many people assumed that funeral directors were cold, heartless bastards but in my case that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Every loss hurt in some way, especially working in such a small town where so many people were connected, and I’d always had a strong sense of empathy for those left behind.
All I could do was offer comforting platitudes, small smiles, and promise to take care of their loved ones.
Perhaps it was morbid that I found comfort and purpose in being a bridge between the living and the dead, but it had always brought me peace.
My grandfather, who was never a religious man despite his weekly meetings with the local vicar, had once likened his job to Charon, the ferryman of Hades from Greek mythology, who transported souls across the River Styx.
I had never been sure if it was an apt comparison, but it had always stuck with me.
I finished my conversation with Ellen and promised that we would be along to take care of her father very soon. When I hung up, Theo was still looking at me.
“John Fraser died,” I said.
“I heard.” He frowned at me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I liked John, but I think he was ready.”
Theo nodded. “I liked him too. He told me I was trouble and then laughed when I promised him it was only in certain circumstances.”
I chuckled softly. “We should get dressed. Are you okay to come with me?”
“Of course. I always do!” He leant over and kissed my cheek, and I wondered if he felt any of the awkwardness I had.
He swung his legs off the bed and collected Basil, who’d somehow ended up on the floor, and began to walk towards the door.
“Thanks for last night,” he said, turning to look at me over his shoulder.
There was a little smile on his lips that made my heart flutter like the wings of a tiny bird. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. If you think it’s going to be bad again tonight, you can just sleep in here. I’ll bring one of the fans up from my office.”
Theo’s smile widened. “Perfect! We can have a sleepover! Oh, we should tell scary stories before we go to sleep.”
“Won’t that make your nightmares worse?”
“Nope! Monsters have never scared me. I just want to be their friend—or their toy. Depends on the monster really.” He winked at me and I rolled my eyes.
“It’s too early to talk about monster fucking,” I said dryly as I walked over to my wardrobe to retrieve a clean suit.
My clothes were virtually all black, with the occasional addition of white or red, and I’d always found it to be such a calming colour.
“I thought we instituted a twelve-noon rule about that.”
“Ugh, that’s so boring, though! I won’t remember this later.”
“Go and get dressed,” I said. “We have work to do.”
“I know,” Theo said as he disappeared out of the door. “I’m going to stick the kettle on too. We can take some tea with us.”
I shook my head fondly as I heard him start singing some ridiculous song about being in love with a zombie. That was one of the reasons I loved Theo—he always knew how to make me smile but he never told me to get over my feelings. I hoped I did the same for him.
Shrugging off the black pyjama bottoms I’d been wearing, I began to pull on clean clothes, humming Saint-Saens’s “Danse Macabre” in G minor under my breath. Maybe if there was time later, I’d get my violin out and indulge myself in playing it through.
As I buttoned my shirt, I caught sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door.
There were tired bags under my eyes that would need to be quickly covered before we left, and my hair would be better tied up since it seemed the heat didn’t agree with it either.
I glanced at the ornate black and white butterfly tattoo on my abdomen, which was currently absent of colour, and ran one finger across the lines.
Sometimes, when he was bored or sad or feeling mischievous, Theo would ask to colour it in and I’d lie spread out across our sofa as he lay between my legs and painted my butterfly with watercolour markers.
But he hadn’t done that since Austin’s comment, and I suddenly felt the loss of colour very keenly.
I hummed a few more bars of Saint-Saens as I finished buttoning my shirt and slid on my carefully ironed suit trousers.
Perhaps later I’d ask Theo if he wanted to colour it, awkwardness between us be damned.