She took a deep breath, hesitated for only a second, and then placed a drop upon her tongue and handed the flask to me so I might do the same.
“You can recline on my bed if you like,” I told her.
“I’ll be perfectly comfortable in this armchair, thank you,” she replied, settling herself and gripping her hair bracelet in her left hand. “You have the spirit clock ready?”
“Yes,” I said, lying back against my pillow. “Do you taste it, metallic in your mouth, and feel the strange heat washing through your body?”
She nodded. “Henry, you’ll watch over us carefully?”
“I will indeed,” he promised.
“It comes quickly,” I told her. “The blink of an eye.”
I yawned and
— look over. There she is, sitting on my chair: Elizabeth.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her amber hair spills like silk around her radiant face, over her shoulders. Her eyes are open, and she smiles at me. I smile back. There is absolutely nothing between my gaze and her face. It’s like I’m stroking her skin. It feels almost wicked, deliciously so.
There is no need of candlelight, for beyond the windows of my bedchamber comes a surprisingly strong white light from the thick, impenetrable fog.
I push myself up off the bed and stand, feeling that same vital energy coursing through me. And with every step I take, with each hot squeeze of blood through my veins, with each flex and pull of my muscles, I am thrillingly aware of myself as never before. It’s as though every hair on my head, every pore, every surface of my body is twice as sensitive.
There is nothing I could not do here.
I put the spirit clock in my pocket, slip the ring back onto my finger. I step toward Elizabeth. My nostrils flare to take in her scent-her hair, her skin, her breath. Her hazel eyes draw me closer. I have a distant memory of two wolves in the night forest.
“Are we here?” she asks.
It takes me a moment to understand, for here is so immediate and real, how could there be anywhere else but here and now?
In answer to her question I stretch out my right hand and show her how my two missing fingers have been returned to me. In amazement she frowns and reaches out-and I know, beyond any doubt, that once we touch, we will be unable to resist each other.
But this current of desire is severed suddenly by a few simple notes of music wafting through the air.
Elizabeth lets her hand drop as she stands. “Piano,” she says.
Eagerly she walks past me and opens the door to my bedchamber.
“Konrad played that piece all the time.”
Played it for you, I think, for I remember how they used to steal away to the music room to be alone.
I follow her as she strides purposefully down the hallway.
“Konrad?” she calls out, and the music abruptly stops. We reach the doors of the music room, and Elizabeth throws them wide and walks in ahead of me.
Half turned on the bench, arm shielding his eyes, is my twin. I see his rapier, tipped up against the piano.
“Elizabeth?” he breathes.
She weeps with total abandon, tears spilling down her cheeks. Despite what I’ve told her, she steps toward Konrad to embrace him.
“I’d give anything to hold you,” my brother says, standing and retreating, “but I can’t.”
“It’s too unfair,” she says, her words jerking out.
“Your heat’s so intense, it nearly sears me, even from this distance.”
I see his eyes move to me briefly, squinting, and he smiles.
“Victor. You came back.”
“I promised I would. This light of ours, we can’t see it.”
“It radiates from you like an aura. You’re like something drawn with the sun’s fire, and I can take only little glimpses of you.”
He stands now before us, his head bowed, like a man awaiting sentence from the magistrate. I feel like both angel and devil, radiating glorious light but also demonic heat, and once again I feel a surge of excitement to think myself so powerful.
“How long have I been dead?” he asks. “Time seems to have no meaning here.”
“Nearly a month,” Elizabeth tells him. “I never even had the chance to say good-bye to you. It was so sudden.”
“Tell us,” I ask him impetuously. “What was it like?”
“To die? I can’t really say. When I first woke in bed, I was alone. No one answered my calls. So I got up-and was surprised by my strength. I felt completely well, like my old self. I wanted to tell you all, but when I left my room, I couldn’t find anyone. The house was completely deserted, and seemed somehow unfamiliar, even though everything seemed to be in the right place. That was when I first began to wonder if I’d died in my sleep, though I hoped it was just a nightmare. But I didn’t wake.”
“You don’t… look dead,” I tell him.
He gives a small laugh. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
I am suddenly ravenous with curiosity. “Do you float above things, or do you feel the floor beneath your feet?”
“I feel the floor.”
“And you can open doors, exert force on objects?”
“You heard me playing the piano.”
“If you punch the wall, is there pain?”
“Yes. I’ve tried.”
“Do you sleep?”
“Victor, enough,” Elizabeth says.
“I don’t seem to, no,” Konrad replies.
“And are you hungry?”
“Not thirsty, either. Victor, am I to be another scientific experiment of yours?” He gives a wry smile, and I chuckle apologetically.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that there are so many things to discover here.”
“For me too,” my brother says. “How is it possible you’re here?”
“We got your message and came to find you,” I say.
His confusion is obvious. “My message?”
“‘Come raise me.’ That’s what you said, over and over again.”
“Victor built a spirit board to speak with the dead,” Elizabeth explains. “You didn’t hear him calling out to you?”
Konrad looks shaken. “There was a moment-I don’t know how long ago-when I felt you so strongly, as though you were somewhere in the house. And I looked for you, and called out, but heard no reply. I thought I must just be hallucinating. But I don’t remember saying ‘Come raise me.’”
“Well, maybe it doesn’t need speaking aloud,” I reply. “Maybe your wishes alone conveyed themselves to our world.”
But Elizabeth looks uneasy. “Who else is here?”
“There’s a girl our age called Analiese. She was a servant in the household and died of fever long before we were born. When I was wandering the house, I met her in the kitchen. She was very kind to me, as kind as anyone can be when they’re telling you you’re actually dead.”
“Where is she?” Elizabeth wants to know.
“She often seems to prefer the servants’ quarters.” He gives a small smile. “I think she feels she’s being too familiar, coming upstairs to speak with me, though God knows I welcome her company.”
