Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rosalin fell asleep less than five minutes into the movie. It was part of their evening ritual, a sort of normalcy that Alaric never thought he’d experience.
Three hundred years alone, and now this.
He saw the dead plant before Rosalin did. He knew what it meant, that the tether she’d created was temporary. He felt it every day, as his body gravitated back toward that spirit world. He clawed his way back to Rosalin every time, refusing to be dragged away.
But eventually he would. Eventually the tether would run out, and with the curse broken, he could cross over at last. He would not stay and be invisible again, to watch the woman he cared so deeply about mourn him.
That was the hardest part about dying the first time, the heartache left in his wake.
No matter how annoying or destructive he’d been in life, no matter how many witches cursed his name, he was part of the reason Pumpkin Hollow remained.
When they realized what he’d suffered for them, they wept, built a statue, called him a founder.
The town had each other to lean on. Rosalin would be alone in her misery. He couldn’t watch that.
Unless she anchored you.
He pushed the rogue thought away. He could never ask that of her.
He didn’t mind the idea of growing old, or the thought of being attached to her permanently.
It was the suggestion that it would shorten her life.
Even with the caveat that necromancers did not feel it like a witch might, that wasn’t good enough for him.
He’d rather go back to purgatory than do anything to harm her.
How long would it take? He felt more present than before, his body more solid. He could smell the candle that burned in the corner, taste the lingering bit of her blood on his lip. When he stroked Albie, he could feel the texture of him.
It was almost like being alive again, and it felt amazing. Tomorrow he’d be able to help Rosalin with the cemetery so she might have the evening to do as she pleased. They could walk downtown and look at the decorations for the Pumpkin Festival. They could go to the theater and watch a movie.
But he wanted more than that. He wanted years of Pumpkin Festivals, of first snowfalls, of afternoons in the cemetery. He wanted to fall asleep with her every evening, and wake next to her every morning.
He wanted so many things that he could never have.
Not never.
No, not never. He could have them…but he couldn’t do that to Rosalin. Severed only by death. Anchoring removed his worries about being her invisible lover, of a life of people not believing he existed. Of being ostracized by a town that already kept an arm’s distance.
If they were anchored, he would be real. Visible. Tangible. He would age. He would be just another man.
At the cost of her life.
His thoughts warred with one another. If she was willing, who was he to say no? She could make her own choices, and if she chose him, he’d gladly accept.
She’d only known him a week. He might have known her for years, but he was still a stranger to her. What reason would she have to anchor him? To attach her life to his forever? Pity? He couldn’t have that.
Rosalin stirred, blinking at the television. “How long was I out?” she asked.
“It was a boring movie,” he said instead of answering. “Come, let’s go to bed.”
Albie circled several times on the foot of the bed before settling down. Rosalin slid under the covers with him, her body pressed close to his. He kissed her, a soft kiss that belied his torn feelings.
“Mmm,” Rosalin hummed into his mouth. Then she was asleep once more, her body relaxed into his.
He wanted that moment to last forever, for the sun to never rise, for the night to stretch on. Tomorrow was the first day of the Pumpkin Festival, the shadow of the thinning of the veil. Tomorrow they’d break the curse and set the events in motion that would pull him from her.
He cursed the sun when it rose at last. How did time move so quickly when you wanted it to slow? Rosalin shifted in his arms, blinking awake as the sun filtered through her window.
“Good morning,” she said softly.
“Good morning,” he replied.
“Oh no,” she groaned. “Now you can smell my morning breath, can’t you?”
“In my time, we just called it ‘breath’,” he said. She laughed and rolled from his arms to the bathroom, shutting the door. He rose and went to the kitchen to start her morning tea. He took out one of the remaining cinnamon rolls and warmed it up, licking the frosting from his fingers.
No wonder the town loved them so much; they were delicious.
“And taste,” Rosalin’s voice came from behind him and he jumped. “You can taste it, can’t you?”
“I can,” he admitted. He set her tea and her cinnamon roll on the table and sat across from her while she ate. She watched him carefully in between bites.
“Today we break the curse,” she said.
“You break the curse, I just watch,” he reminded her.
“I suppose,” she said, picking at the last bits of the cinnamon roll. The silence that settled was uneasy, and Alaric had to focus to keep from jiggling his leg.
“We should do something today,” she said suddenly. “I’ll play hooky from work, and we’ll go have a picnic or something. I’ll buy all the best foods in Pumpkin Hollow, and you can try them all.” The smile that broke over her face was so wide, Alaric couldn’t help but smile himself.
“I’ve heard food tastes better when it’s being eaten off another,” he remarked.
“A remote picnic, got it,” she affirmed. She stood and went to her room to change while Alaric stared after her.
He would never ask her to anchor him. He would never do anything to hurt her, even indirectly.
But if she asked, he didn’t think he had the strength to say no.