Page 41 of Hollow
A warmth spreads at my core, and I relax slightly. His fingers lace with mine, and he holds me there, as if proving that he can do this without any give or take.
“So is it all a conscious effort?” I ask, teetering slightly without anything to see and focus on. “The exchange of energy when you touch someone’s skin?”
“Yes,” he says quietly, giving my hand a squeeze. “Otherwise, I’d be wearing gloves all day long. I’d certainly never be able to fuck anyone.” My body goes stiff. The way he said “fuck” makes my knees want to give out. “And wouldn’t that be a shame.”
When he says the last word, it’s a whisper, close to my face, so close I feel his breath on my cheek. I swallow hard, my nipples hardening under my corset.
“I hate to say this, Crane,” I manage to eke out, “but you’re being awfully distracting from the matter at hand.”
“Mmmm?” he says. Then I feel air between us as he lets go of my hand and steps back. “You’re correct about that. I’m distracting myself. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
“Putting blindfolds on girls is an old habit?”
He lets out an amused grunt. “Let’s start the ritual, shall we?”
He goes behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, his mouth coming down to the nape of my neck. He breathes in like he’s smelling me. “I’m going to hold you from back here so you can keep your balance. I’m not sure what will happen if Vivienne comes in, but you might be disoriented.”
Lord, I feel sick. “Please tell me you’ve done this before.”
“I haven’t,” he admits, his breath causing me to shiver.
“I feel like you should practice on someone else before me.”
“There’s no one else with as much potential as you, Kat. And besides, this is the practice. I don’t actually think she’ll come forth. We’ll need to wait until Samhain when the veil is at the thinnest. That’s when we can conjure her on our own terms.”
“What are you wanting to ask her anyway?”
A beat passes. I feel his breath on my hair. It makes me want to lean into him. “I want to know the truth.”
“I saw what you saw though. Have you seen any pictures of Vivienne? How do you know that the body in the hall is her or trying to communicate with you? Ghosts just scare people sometimes, don’t they?”
“And how many ghosts have you seen?”
“None,” I admit. “Unless you count the one I saw through your eyes.”
“That doesn’t count,” he says. “Now, close your eyes…”
“I’m wearing a blindfold,” I remind him.
“Close your eyes,” he says testily. “And imagine you’re in black emptiness. In the voids, the spaces between the veils where so many pass through.”
I see the place I was when he was trying to read my memories, the place where I stopped him and ran away. “I see it,” I whisper.
“Now, think of people you love who are gone. Think of your father. Those feelings will bring him to you.”
“I can bring my father to me this way?” I say, excitement flooding through me. I have so many questions to ask him. Forget about Vivienne Henry—I want to know the real reason he made me keep my magic hidden. I want to tell him I love him. I want him to come back.
“I don’t know,” Crane says, his fingers strong on my shoulders. “See if you can. This is what the practice is for.”
I project myself inside that space. I think of my father, about seeing him again. I think of reaching out for him, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. Of long nights spent by the fire, him reading from a book to me, feeling so much love.
But try as I might, he doesn’t materialize.
So then I try to think about Brom. I don’t know if Brom is dead or alive, but if he is dead, I want to see him again. I want to ask why he left. I want to know if he ever thought of me. I want to know what happened to him.
I picture him, the last night I saw him. His face in the moonlight. How troubled he was. How handsome. How good his hands felt on my body, how much pain he caused, but how that pain turned bittersweet. How it changed me forever. How much power I gleaned from us, from our union. How much I craved that connection again.
If you’re out there, Brom, let me find you, I think. Let me find you, please.