Fortunately, mediums, spiritualists and telepaths like his aunt operated within the Aether. He could see and sense them in the Aether—like the ghosts they sought. Only, they pulsed with life, while ghosts did not.
But ghosts weren’t what he needed to think about right now, and he ignored those who “tugged” at his sleeve in this strange world behind the world.
Griffin turned his attention to the connection between the two women, fixating on the stream of undulating power between his aunt and Finley. It bathed them both in an iridescent light, covering them, joining them. He reached out, concentrating on the Aetheric stream. His free arm went around Finley as he tried to bend the energy to his will. Cordelia’s power didn’t want to let go, and if it was forced, his aunt would be struck by Finley’s. There was only one other solution.
His heart skipped a beat—just one—before he recaptured his calm. If he lost control now there was no telling what the Aether would do to him. Once, it had sucked him in and kept him for a full day. It had taken him three to recover from the experience. And left him with several white hairs, which he’d promptly plucked from his head. That was when he’d learned there was a price to pay for being able to touch the Aether.
He moved the chair so he could kneel beside Finley and wrap both arms around her. She was warm against his chest, trembling as her mind fought against Cordelia’s intrusion. His concentration deepened as he drew the energy pushing against her—and emanating from her—into himself. Slowly, he took control of the Aether, pulling it away from Finley to focus instead on him. Once he had it, all he had to do was hold it. It tried to dance away from him but he held fast. The energy whirled around him, filling him. It was so much.
When Cordelia’s mind seemed to realize the connection between it and Finley had been broken, it stopped pushing. Like an elastic band pulled so taut it snapped, the energy flew into him, hitting him with a force that sent both him and Finley to the floor.
Griffin barely managed to catch the girl, still bombarded by Aetheric energy. With his guard now so lowered, the Aether rushed at him. Spirits—that’s how the strange beings here had always seemed to him—crowded around him, a million voices talking at once. Some were crying, others shouting—some were just whispers.
The energy filled him, like a crashing tide. Cordelia and Finley had exchanged so much energy that it was in constant motion. He had drained the power, but without direction it blew around inside him with hurricane force, trapped in one body rather than cycling between two. To the Aetheric plane he was a doorway, not just a mere window. And it wanted out.
He struggled to his feet, barely aware of the two females lying unconscious on the floor. He had to get out of the house.
French doors at the back of the room led out into the garden and he ran toward them. Power arced from his hands as he reached for the handle, sending the doors flying open without a touch.
He leaped down the shallow stone steps to the garden, the frantic pounding inside him pushing him to run at full speed across the freshly cut grass. He stumbled but kept running, his vision beginning to blur. He could feel his scalp starting to stretch under the pressure.
The Aether was tearing him apart.
There was a pool in the garden—picturesque with statues and perfectly groomed topiaries surrounding it. That was his destination. Just another forty feet—water would fix this.
He almost stumbled again. He was running out of time. His skull felt as though it was about to crack.
Almost there.
His feet ate up the distance. He could see the edge of the pool now, blurred and multiplied. Colors danced before his eyes.
As his boots hit the stone edge, Griffin launched himself. He flew through the air, falling now. God, he hoped he’d calculated correctly. If he hit the ground…
He hit the water, the shock of it hitting him like a cold boot to the chest. His mouth opened, water drowning his shout as the Aether forced its way out. He let it go.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 9
It was the explosion that woke Finley up.
Groggily, she used the desk to pull herself to her knees and then to her feet. Her head felt as though it had been kicked repeatedly, such was the pounding in it. A few feet away, Lady Marsden was also coming around. Blood covered the older woman’s face. Slowly, she began to sit up, her gaze quickly scanning the room as she dabbed her nose with the back of her hand. She looked at Finley, her eyes wide.
“Griffin.”
Finley didn’t think, she simply reacted. She knew the ferocious noise she’d heard had to do with Griffin, just as she knew he’d run out through the garden doors. The shattered glass from the panes in the doors lay scattered across the wet stone steps.
The entire garden looked as though it had been heavily rained on, despite the sun shining in the sky. Fog clung to the ground at the far end of the lawn, where the pool was. That’s where Finley ran, despite that every time her feet struck ground the pain in her head made her want to vomit.
As she reached the pool, she realized it wasn’t fog curling around the wet grass. Fog wasn’t hot—steam was. It burned her as she walked through it to stand on the stone edge.
There was no more than two inches of water left in the entire pool, and there, lying in the middle of it, was a sopping-wet Griffin, steam pouring off him like a teakettle at full boil.
“Griffin!”
Heedless of her boots or her own safety, Finley jumped into the pool, hot water splashing her legs, burning her skin through her stockings. She hissed in pain, but ran to Griffin’s side.
“Griffin?” She crouched next to him, tentatively reached out and touched his dripping hair as he pushed himself to his knees.
He didn’t lift his head, but his mouth curved into a smile. “Finley.” His voice was a raw rasp, as though the heat that emanated from him had burned his throat, as well. “You’re all right.”
Realization hit her hard—he had stopped his aunt’s intrusion into her mind, and this was the result of whatever he’d done. For her. She could have kissed him right then, if she hadn’t thought his lips might blister hers.
Lifting his arm, she placed it over her shoulders, gritting her teeth against the fiery sting as water seeped through her clothes. Her other self rose up just a bit and she allowed it, taking the edge off the pain.
“Can you stand?” she asked, putting her arm around his waist.
He nodded. Together they stood. Finley could feel the tremor in Griff’s body as he stood. He couldn’t support his own weight at all, the stubborn liar. She bent down and put her other arm beneath his knees, sweeping him off his feet into her arms, carrying him like a child toward the top side of the pool.
“Finley,” he said.
“Yes, Griffin?”
“Put me down, please.” There was laughter in his voice.
She looked at him. Their faces were so close she really could kiss him if she wanted. He had quite nice lips, and right now they were smiling at her. “Please,” he said again. “As nice as this is, I refuse to be carried into my own home by a girl who weighs a good three stone less than I.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the steam filled her cheeks. “Sorry.” But she didn’t set him on his feet until they were out of the pool, then she let his legs down, but she continued to support him with an arm around his waist, his over her shoulders. His male pride obviously did not mind
“What happened?” she asked as they moved slowly toward the house. The steam seemed to be lessening, no longer rolling along the grass.
He sighed. “Simply, I went into the Aetheric plane and absorbed the energy flowing between you and Aunt Cordelia to disconnect your psychic connection. The water helps to disperse the excess, so I jumped in the pool.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I shall have to refill it.”
