Epilogue #2
I nod. I feel strangely calm. I've been afraid of the dead for my entire life, but a year of being possessed by one has a way of putting things into perspective. All the entities that Earl Lynch devoured through me were as scared as I was. We are all the same, in the end.
People point fingers and take pictures of Pearl, her head poking out of James' backpack. Her tail is swishing every time she stares at a ghost. She can see them all, I realise, just like I can. I wonder if all cats see through the veil or only if they are the minions of a sentient house.
The streets are busy with low level entities, floating among the crowds of the living, the ones who are simply lost on their way to the afterlife and haven't gathered much strength. Only a small fraction of them will become poltergeists one day.
Our first stop is to a fancy house in Dean Village, by the river.
A couple in their forties welcome us at the door, looking us up and down with dubious looks on their faces.
We both keep our masks on, and it doesn't help, but they relax when James tells them they can pay the fee later with our boss.
"Don't they sometimes refuse to pay afterwards?" I whisper as we follow them down the basement.
"Yes," he says over his shoulder. "But if they don't, we send them ghosts. So they usually comply pretty fast."
I laugh. "You do?"
"Yeah. We have a few ghosts agents now all over Edinburgh. The Urchin is one of them. And since this house sits by the river, he can easily haunt this place and become a nuisance. He enjoys it greatly."
Ghost agents? "Oh my god." I laugh again, and the couple gives us the stink eye.
So the little ghost we freed from the hostel a year ago still hasn't moved on. I make a mental note to help him.
The basement of the town house is rank and humid, being so close to the river. The place gives us both flashbacks of the one where we fought the monster, and James give me a worried look through his mask.
I touch his hand to reassure him that I'm fine.
Since we entered the house, I've been feeling the cold touch of the veil. It's stronger now that we're in the basement. Pearl emerges from James' backpack, hissing.
Our clients share an horrified look. "No cats allowed in here," the woman says. "I'm allergic."
James sighs. "She's our ghost hunting cat. Do you want your ghost problem handled or not?"
"Yes but—"
"Then she has to stay. Trust me, you want her on your side."
Right at that instant, a cold breeze travels through the basement, and I see a figure float out of the dark. The ghost is tall and thin, reminiscent of Slender Man, their head and shoulders bent as they touch the ceiling. They have no features, their face a shapeless, moving mass.
The other three are still arguing, unaware that the entity has made an appearance, but as soon as Pearl hisses again, James turns his attention to the overall direction of the apparition.
The couple must see something, too, because they both run upstairs without looking back and, judging by the sound, lock us in.
"What do you see?" James asks me.
I describe the tall spirit to him, then say, "You?"
"A stretching shadow, along the wall."
The entity is content to stand there, unmoving. A year ago, the uncanny vision would have made me run screaming like our clients, but now all I feel is calm. The ghost, on another hand, emanates pure anguish. Exorcising this one will be a mercy.
"Come on. Let's do that ritual," James says, and I nod.
When we decide to call it a night around four in the morning, we have dealt with six entities.
The first one was the saddest, but the others were actually a wild ride.
We even had to pursue two naked ghosts who died while having sex on a rooftop.
Another one, the ghost of a young woman, tried to possess James, then me, but our tattoos did their job.
Pearl fell on that one with feline rage, and the exorcism after was a piece of cake.
We came to realise that I have a hold on ghosts now. I can touch them, like Pearl can. I was always different, but my ability only grew over the past year.
"You're incredible," James says to me as we make our way back to the hostel.
We've both taken our masks off, at last. Even at such a late hour, the streets are still busy with drunk partygoers in costumes.
"I was just following your lead," I mumble, blushing.
He gives me a look. "Ewan. You tackled a ghost to the ground and almost sent him to outer space. I'm pretty sure they felt it resonate through the veil. You're a force of nature."
My blush deepens, and I grab his hand and keep walking. I'm surprised too, by how easy tonight has been. I'm no longer scared of ghosts, and hunting them actually felt like a relief, like I was taking back control over my life. I feel truly at peace for the first time in over a year.
When we enter the hostel, the Halloween party is long dead and the employees are cleaning up the great hall. Lana and Shirley were waiting for us, wearing their sexy vampire costumes. We hug and they fuss over us, then we help them finish cleaning the place.
We all trudge back to our rooms and promise to meet for brunch at noon.
I take a shower first in our private bathroom, then sit on the bed as James takes his. There is something building up inside me, and I can feel the buzz under my skin. After tonight and the relief of feeling whole again, I'm restless. I want to live, to love, to feel it all.
I get in bed wearing only my boxer briefs and pull the comforter to my chin.
My eyes travel over our room. It's bare, mostly, the only decorations being the ones that were already here before James moved in.
It used to be a shared room for employees, but Lana replaced the bunk beds with a queen size bed when she gave it to him.
There are three windows with red velvet curtains, and a painting with a ship lost in a storm on the wall.
It's probably far older than me, and the whites have turned yellow with age.
The only wardrobe is a massive thing, sculpted in wood with gothic designs.
But James' discreet touch is everywhere.
From his combat boots by the door, to his leather jacket on the chair.
The bed sheets smell like him and there are cat toys scattered all over the floor.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, toes tingling with anticipation.
Moments later, James comes out of the shower, vapour billowing behind him. He's shirtless and his pyjama bottoms ride low on his hips. I swallow thickly.
"I'm knackered," he says, turning the light off.
He jumps in bed, and I feel it dip under his weight. In the dark, my senses are attuned to him, and all can hear and feel is his breathing and the warmth coming from him.
His hand appears on my chest, seeking me out, and he asks, "Are you okay baby?"
Once again, I tremble when he calls me baby. With one word, I am undone.
"Yes," I whisper, turning my face to his.
Our breath mingle, and then our lips touch. All our kisses have been tender since our reunion. James handles me like I'm truly made of glass. It helped, at first. I needed it to heal and feel like my body was truly my own. But now it's not enough. I want more.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue seeking his. He kisses me back tentatively, and my body sings. His hand is still on my chest, and I grab it. I start rubbing it against my heated skin, kneading my pec. My nipple perks up.
He stops kissing me just long enough to whisper a warning, "Ewan…"
I ignore him and drag his hand lower. He takes my cue and gently caresses my abs. Every touch sends sparks along my spine, and heat travels to my groin.
"James," I beg, but he's content to touch my upper body.
Slow, maddening strokes of his hand. I writhe under his touch.
More…
I push his hand lower still, until his palm is over my erection, my cock pulsing with every heartbeat.
"Ewan…" he says. "Maybe we shouldn't…"
It feels like a rejection, and I can't help it, I let out a sob. The tears come, unstoppable. I try to contain them, but my shoulders heave and my chest hurts.
"Baby, what—"
"I'm sorry," I choke out.
What if my life never goes back to normal? What if I really am broken, and he doesn't want me like he used to? Has the veil stolen my happiness for good?
"Why are you sorry?" James asks. "You're fine. You're perfect."
I can only shake my head and cry. I don't know how to fix this. How to fix me. He told me he loved me, over and and over again, but does he love me as a lover or just as a thing to be protected and cherished?
I don't want to be protected—I know how to protect myself now—I want to be loved and fucked into the mattress.
I must have said it out loud, because James hovers above me, his hands on both sides of my body, and he says, "Are you sure, Ewan? Do you really want me to touch you, really touch you, like I used to?"
I shiver. "Aye…"
"I love you too much to hurt you, baby. So I want to be sure of what you want and what you need. Tell me…" He sounds raw. "You have tell me. Ask me, and I'll give you the world."
My heart swells.
"I want you to want me. And… take..."
In the dark, I can't see his face, but I notice the way he tilts his head. "Take?"
"Aye… My heart might be fragile, but my body isn't. James, if you don't fuck me in all the ways imaginable tonight, I might die. Spontaneous combustion, remember? It's a valid risk."
His laugh echoes in our room, crystal clear and so lovely.
"Then let's combust together, my love. Because I'm already burning for you," he says before kissing me again.
This time he's not holding back as he kisses me. It's savage and just the perfect amount of aggressive to put me back together. His hand grabs my face forcefully, his fingers digging into my cheeks as he devours my lips.
At last, I feel all my anxiety seep away as he takes control. I don't want to think anymore, I just want to feel.
His hands roam all over my body, caressing, grabbing, rubbing, pulling… I'm taut with need.