Raven's Rest (14 page)

“Okay,” I whispered.

The spirit nodded and then floated closer. Suddenly he was on top of me, although there was no weight, just a massive chill that made me shudder. For a brief moment I could see his face close to mine, mere inches away. Now I could see the green of his eyes, and his long blond hair fell forward, touching my cheek like dry icicles. It almost seemed like he was about to kiss me, but then my body convulsed and I gasped as he melted into me.

At first I couldn’t even breathe. It felt like I’d jumped off the deck of the
Titanic
into the icy water, and the shock was intense. Slowly, warmth crept back into my bones, and I sucked in a grateful lungful of air.

My mind raced, and I saw visions. Playing superheroes with my friends as a child, a red blanket pinned onto my back as I soared across the front lawn, making
whooshing
noises to indicate flying. Watching cartoons in the living room in my pj’s while scooping in mouthfuls of cereal. Older, riding my bicycle through town, my buddy Scott pedaling beside me. I wondered how he would feel if I told him I had a crush on him? Older still, mowing the lawn and hoping to catch sight of the new boy next door. His name was Bryan, and he was the handsomest boy I’d ever seen.

And later, becoming friends and then more with Bryan. Our first kiss, one night out by the gazebo, with snow falling and the air crisp and clean as his breath. There were Christmas lights on nearby, not only my house but our neighbors as well. Mr. Martin’s house across the way was lit up like a beacon, and his roof was adorned with a plastic Santa on a sleigh being pulled by four plastic reindeer, which always bothered me. Didn’t everyone know there had been eight reindeer, or nine if you counted Rudolph? But I couldn’t care less about the disparity of reindeer as long as Bryan held me close, allowing me to explore his wonderful mouth with my tongue.

And later still, making love with Bryan one afternoon in my room. There was a smile on my face as I pistoned my hips into him, and he groaned with pleasure. “Oh God, I love you,” he moaned as he shot his semen onto his belly. The mere sight of the ecstasy on his face made me come as well.

Another scene, a breakfast with my father. He had a cross look on his face, which wasn’t unusual, and I knew he was hungover from the booze he drank the night before. “I don’t like that Bryan kid,” he said, not daring to look me in the eyes. “I don’t think you should see him anymore. People say he’s a fruit.”

“Like a pear? Or a peach?” I retorted hotly, so mad my ears feel like they’re on fire. “Maybe a plum?”

“Don’t be facetious,” he growled. “You know what I mean. If you hang around with his sort, people will start to talk. They’ll start to wonder about you.”

“I don’t care if they do,” I reply.

“Well, I do! No son of mine is going to be a faggot!”

More thoughts hit me. More feelings. A funeral. My mother’s. Father was there, swaying as the minister said a few words at the grave site. Dad was drunk, not that that surprised me, or anyone else there for that matter. Ever since Mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer, the bar down the road had become his second home. Maybe his first.

And then the night he punched me because he’d seen Bryan and I kissing each other good night. We’d thought he was at the bar, but he had been sitting in the dark in the living room and had spotted us on the porch.

That was the night Bryan and I had plotted our escape.

I blinked as I sat up in bed. Visions, memories, but they weren’t
my
memories. They were Coleman’s. And I wasn’t dreaming. I was wide awake. The sun was coming up, the light creeping in through the gaps in the blinds. I shook my head, and the kaleidoscope of daydreams ceased. Or at least they receded. Closing my eyes tight, I swore under my breath, wondering just what the hell I’d done, what I’d allowed to happen.

Because Coleman Hollis was there, somewhere. In my mind. I could feel him.

My stomach churned, and I rushed out of bed, hoping I could reach the toilet before I threw up. I fumbled for the light switch, retching. I knew I had only seconds, not enough time to hit the toilet bowl, so I bent over the sink and gagged. I was there for what seemed like ages, splattering the porcelain with my vomit, although it was probably only seconds. My skin felt cold and clammy, and beads of perspiration dripped off my forehead.

When nothing more would come up, I stayed bent over the counter, afraid my legs wouldn’t hold me up on their own. Finally I had enough energy to turn on the taps to wash as much of my sick away as I could.

I looked up into the mirror, and for a moment it wasn’t my face reflected there. It was Coleman Hollis’s. I blinked, and the image became my own. But was there something of Coleman remaining? My own eyes were more of a hazel tint, but now they were definitely green. Just like Coleman’s.

“My God, Michael,” I asked myself, “what have you done?”

“WHY IS
it that I’m the one that got the shit knocked out of me, but it’s you who looks like hell?” Trey asked.

Truth be told, neither of us was at our best, but my casualties were limited to puffy, dark eyes from very little sleep (hopefully Trey hadn’t noticed the different pigmentation) and a busted lip, while Trey had multiple cuts, plus two black eyes. I ignored his question and asked, “How are you feeling?”

He was in his bed and sat up slowly, pondering. “It’s odd,” he said at last. “I hurt in places that asshole didn’t even hit me. Like my back. It hurts like a motherfucker. And my neck. The spots that he actually hit? They’re all kind of numb still. Just dull aches.”

“Here. Lean forward.” He did so, and I sat beside him and began to massage his neck and shoulders. “Better?”

He grunted.

“Too hard?” I asked.

“No, it’s heaven. Don’t stop.”

I moved his long hair to one shoulder so I could get at his neck better. He hung his head low to stretch out the muscles. I kissed his shoulder and then continued to dig my fingers into his skin. “Let me know if I hit a sore spot.”

“They’re all sore. That bastard’s just lucky he caught me off guard.”

I smiled, thankful Trey couldn’t see me and think I was grinning at his expense. Under any circumstances, Trey wouldn’t have fared well against Kevin, but I wasn’t about to point this out. Trey was my protector and hero, no matter how ineffectual that was in practice. It still made me love him just a little bit more.

“Trey?”

“Yeah?”

Tell him. Tell him what you did. Let him know.
But the words wouldn’t come out. At the moment, my mind was totally my own. There were no stray feelings or memories from Coleman in my head, but I had no idea whether they’d remain at bay. And Coleman was in there, somewhere, resting up to reveal more to me. I knew that. It felt like he was close by, like a person sitting next to you at a crowded movie theater. You knew they were there, even if they weren’t actually making contact with you. But then they shifted, and their elbow hits yours, or you knocked your hand against their sleeve.

What I did say seemed to just burst out, without much thought on my part. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

I couldn’t see his mouth, but I sensed his grin. “Good thing,” he joked, “’cause with my face all battered, no one else is gonna want me.” He paused and then said, in a serious tone (the most serious I’d heard him use), “I’m falling for you too. Actually, fallen. But I’ve always been impulsive. Hand me my ciggies, would you?”

I grabbed the pack off his nightstand. “I thought your mom didn’t like you smoking in the house.”

“That was before I went a round with Rocky Balboa. I ain’t going outside looking like this.”

I stopped rubbing his back and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Why? You didn’t punch me.”

“You know what I mean.”

My hand was on his other shoulder, and he reached up and patted it. Sighing, he said, “I have to admit, I’m a little scared.”

“You don’t have to be. Kevin will never touch you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Trey snorted. “Not him! I’m not scared of that dipshit! No, I meant the other shit that’s going on. The ghosts.”

“What about them?” I asked, guilt welling inside me.

“I’m worried about you. You’re out of there on Monday, right?”

“Thereabouts. Depends on how fast I can get the furniture delivered. The lease is all signed, though.”

“The sooner the better,” Trey said. “Something tells me that you’re in danger. I don’t know exactly how, but I think you’ll be safer living somewhere other than the Raven’s Rest.”

“Funny. Jesenia Maupin said pretty much the same thing. That I was in danger there.”

Trey shrugged. “Maybe she’s not as crazy as I thought she was.” He threw back the covers and made motions as if he was getting up.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He gave me a you’re-an-idiot look. “It appears that I’m getting out of bed. My morning wood has gone down a bit, but feel free to reignite its passions if you wish. But then I’m going to take a shower, and we’re going out for breakfast.”

“It’s nearly eleven, and shouldn’t you stay in bed today and rest?”

Trey frowned. “I got punched a few times. I’m not broken. Other than a slight headache, I’m fine.” He was wearing nothing but his underwear. Black, of course. And despite his statement, the material wasn’t tented in the slightest. Not yet, anyway.

I put a restraining hand on his thigh. “Stay where you are, Trey.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“I didn’t mean that,” I said as I gently pushed him back against his pillow while my other hand fumbled with the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh,” he replied with a smile.

“Yeah, oh.”

My mouth was full after that, so I didn’t talk much for the next few minutes.

TREY, DRESSED
in his usual black T-shirt and jeans and a black leather jacket, lit up a cigarette as we approached McDonald’s, automatically slowing his pace so he could enjoy a sufficient amount of nicotine before we reached the entrance. In the bright light of day, his injuries didn’t look quite as bad. My own lip was still puffy but starting to heal nicely.

My other affliction, that of having a spirit inside me, was another matter. I could still feel Coleman’s presence there in my brain, resting up. It was an odd sensation, having another consciousness inside my head. I knew I should tell Trey, but to be honest, I was afraid of his reaction. When I imagined telling him, he would listen quietly and then tell me how stupid I’d been. And while I couldn’t argue with that assessment, it hit too close to home. In my scenario, Trey’s voice morphed with Kevin’s as he said, “God, Michael, I can’t believe how idiotic you can be sometimes.” I couldn’t take that.

So I kept mum.

“Good cigarette?” I asked instead.

Trey smiled as he exhaled smoke. “You don’t like me smoking, do you?”

“Of course not. It’s a nasty habit.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I can give it up sometime. Maybe.”

“I’ll wait with bated breath,” I replied with a chuckle.

He tossed the cigarette butt to the pavement and stomped on it with his boot. We went inside, and I glanced around at the patrons, half hoping that Jesenia Maupin would be among them. She wasn’t, but I knew that sooner or later I’d be seeking her out for advice.

The girl at the counter who took our order knew Trey and, concerned, asked what happened to his face. I could tell the words just came out and she was unaware how tactless her question might have been.

“Got into a fight with his ex,” Trey explained, nodding toward me. “You should see him.”

As we carried our trays to a table, I asked Trey about his last statement.

“I just said she should see him,” he said with his Mona Lisa grin. “I didn’t say he looked worse than me. Although I’m way hotter than he is. Even with the cuts and bruises.”

“You are,” I agreed. There had been a time, I knew, when I’d thought Kevin was the handsomest man on the face of the planet. Unfortunately, the man’s personality seeped into my perception of his looks after a while, and now I always pictured Kevin with a nasty sneer on his lips and anger in his eyes. Trey, however, was beautiful even with his injuries. I fought the urge to cover his face with kisses as we sat down.

I froze with my butt just inches away from settling onto the chair. At a nearby table was Darryl Hollis, sitting with another man. They were deep in conversation and hadn’t noticed us.

Alarm bells went off in my skull, and I was filled with a seething anger at the mere sight of the man. I knew these were the feelings of Coleman Hollis, but at the moment they were indistinguishable from my own.

“What?” Trey asked, noticing my imitation of a statue. He followed my gaze. “Oh, him. Take no notice.” When I still didn’t move, he added, “Eat a french fry or something. You’re scaring me.”

That broke the spell. I shook my head, back to my old self, although my neck seemed stiff and sore, and there was a low throbbing in my temples. Ah, the things they don’t tell you about possession! I wished I could share my thoughts with Trey. I yearned to. Instead I rubbed the back of my head, massaging the tense muscles. “I’m okay,” I said.

“Really? Because you’re acting like… I don’t know what you’re acting like. Weird. Did you get any sleep?”

“Not much. You?”

“I was on pain pills. Slept like a log.”

“How’s your nose?”

Trey touched it lightly. “Tender. I can breathe through it, though. That’s the important thing. Your ex is an asshole.”

“You’re not telling me anything I hadn’t already figured out myself.” I began to eat, but every now and then I found myself looking over at Darryl Hollis, and I felt a little shiver run down my spine every time. “Who’s that with him?”

Trey half turned. “With Hollis? That’s Gary Thornton. Used to be sheriff here, years ago.”

“Was he sheriff at the time Coleman supposedly disappeared?”

“Maybe. I guess so. Before my time, that’s all I know. Nowadays, like old Darryl, he sits at the Roadhouse Tavern and drinks himself into oblivion most nights.”