Waking the Dead (8 page)

“It’s not,” John said, and drained the last of his pint. Nick, who could guess where John was going, groaned quietly and hoped John would at least keep his voice down. “You’re thinking of ‘English tourist.’” He set his empty glass down with a very final, emphatic clink and raised his eyebrows at Nick. “What?”

“I think it’s time we went,” Nick said firmly.

Outside, the sun was warm enough to make walking around the village seem like a good idea. A ferry was coming in, ponderous and serene, and the three of them walked down to the pier to watch it dock. A fresh breeze was scudding along the water, whipping up a frill of white foam on the top of each glassy curve of green wave.

Josh made a contented sound and sniffed the air. “God, it smells so clean. I mean, yeah, I can smell that seaweed down there and the fumes from the ferry, but it’s still really, really clean. They should bottle it. It beats all those fancy air fresheners.”

“It does, at that,” John agreed, anything else he had to say drowned out by the mournful blast of the ferry’s horn. When the echoes had died down, he glanced up at the sky. “We could go sea fishing. Not for long, but maybe a couple of hours?”

“That translates as ‘back only when it gets too dark to see the water,’” Nick said helpfully.

John clicked his tongue reprovingly. “It does not. I’ll have the lad back by four, I promise.”

“I, um, I’m meeting Caitrin back at the house at five,” Josh said. He wasn’t blushing but there was just enough self-consciousness to rouse Nick’s suspicions. “She’s going to show me --”

“Spare my innocent ears,” John interrupted, which was Nick’s take on it, too. “Fine. I’ll have you back in time so you don’t keep her waiting. Now, let’s go over to the bait shop and pick up something to bribe the fish with.”

“You go,” Nick said, glad of an excuse to avoid the far from fragrant air of that particular store. “I need to get a few groceries at Dunn’s. I’ll meet you back at the car. Where did you leave it?”

“Behind the library,” John said. “We won’t be long.”

“Right,” Nick said. “I’ve heard that before.”

John laughed, gave him a parting pat on the shoulder, and led Josh away.

Nick watched them go and then went in the opposite direction, already running through a grocery list in his head. He rounded a corner, trying to recall if it was black pepper or the white John preferred that they were low on, and found himself a few yards away from Bonnie and Fred.

“We thought we’d try one more time to convince you,” Fred said quickly before Nick could avert his eyes and pretend he hadn’t seen them. “If you won’t attend our ceremony tomorrow, would you at least come down to the caves with us and see if there’s any truth to the legends?”

They’d been aiming their questions at locals in the pub, no doubt, and heard the whole story. “Look,” Nick said, fidgeting and trying not to sound too irritated. “I’ve been all over this island for years. If there were any truth to it, I’d know, okay?”

“But have you been down to the caves when you were truly
open?”
Bonnie looked so hopeful that it was hard not to feel guilty.

“No, but…” Nick sighed. “Okay, fine. But I have things I have to do today, so it’s got to be quick. And when nothing happens, which I’m telling you is going to be the case, then that’s it.”

Fred nodded. “We completely understand. It’s just that there are so few opportunities for us to observe someone as sensitive as yourself. This is the chance of a lifetime, really.”

“We appreciate this so much,” Bonnie added.

Nick contemplated telling them his usual rates, just to see the look on their faces, but decided against it. He had taken money for what he did in the past -- his former partner, Matthew, had insisted on it, and they’d had to live on something -- but since he was certain this was legend, not fact, it wouldn’t be fair.

He pulled out his cell phone. “Just let me make a quick call.”

* * * * *

The caves were all caves should be; dark, dank. The rocks that made up the floor were slippery with seaweed draped over barnacles. Nick had already lost his footing once and gotten a scraped palm, the abraded skin stinging from the salt water he’d washed it in.

This was the third and largest cave, and like the others it was empty in every way.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“That can’t be right,” Bonnie said, her face tight with disappointment. “This is the last cave; it
has
to be this one.”

“I don’t understand how you can tell just like that,” Fred said, a slight edge to his voice. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, meditating first or something?”

“I thought you’d read my books,” Nick said, shivering in the damp, cool air. “Tell me the page where I ever do anything like that and I’ll give you a signed copy. I don’t need to meditate; if there’s a spirit here, I’d know, the same way I’d know someone had been cooking if I walked into a house and smelled barbecue.”

“But there has to be something.” Bonnie was frowning and rubbing her upper arms in a way Nick was pretty sure was unconscious.

“Not really,” Nick said. “It could be that there’s no truth to the story at all. Or maybe it did happen, but on another island, or maybe there was another cave on a different part of Traighshee and it collapsed ages ago. Maybe the men that were killed never did haunt anyone, and it was just guilt that made the villagers think they were seeing things.”

Fred looked around. “You’re sure? There’s nothing at all?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” Nick wasn’t, of course; he wasn’t a bit sorry.

“Then let’s go,” Bonnie said abruptly. “I’m freezing.” She gave Nick a look that said she blamed him for that, and he met it with a bland smile.

Chapter Seven

“They’re mad,” John said with conviction after Nick finished telling him about the caves. “Why would you lie?”

“I don’t know.” Nick was frowning, which wasn’t a look John liked seeing on him. “Maybe they think I want to keep any discovery to myself?”

“It’s a ghost, not buried treasure. And if you found a ghost, they’d have known about it. You’d have had to talk to it; they don’t take kindly to being ignored.” John stared out of the window, watching Caitrin and Josh walk away, their heads together and, unless he was mistaken, holding hands. Well, one of them was a fast mover, and knowing his niece as he did, he’d put money on her being the one. He trusted them both not to let things go too far; Josh would be gone soon enough, and a lovesick Caitrin didn’t bear thinking about.

“They don’t,” Nick agreed. He shivered. “God, I’m freezing.”

John turned away from the window. “Aye? Well, I’m thinking I know a way to warm you up, seeing as we’re going to be alone for an hour or two.”

“Do you? Why am I not surprised?” Nick was trying to sound lighthearted, but John could tell it was nothing but an act. He slid into an embrace willingly enough, though, and his lips met John’s as eagerly as ever.

“Your nose is cold,” John told him a few moments later.

“It always feels cold down by the sea.” Nick clung to John; his mouth had tasted faintly of salt, and the Band-Aid on his scraped hand was rough against the small of John’s back, underneath his shirt.

“I think that’s just an excuse,” John said. “You were more worried about what you might see down at those caves than you wanted to let on.”

Nick smiled. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t think there’d be anyone there.”

“Aye. We’ve been all over this island hundreds of times -- you’d have felt something long before today. That doesn’t mean you weren’t worried.”

“I think it was more being reminded of the story than anything else,” Nick said. “I mean, the thought of them being trapped in there with the water rising and no way to get out.” He shivered again.

“It’s a bad way to go, right enough, but it was a long time ago, love, and if the story’s true, they killed their mother, so…”

“It’s still not right,” Nick said, his tone vehement. “It just isn’t.”

“Nick --” John felt helpless, an emotion he loathed more than most. He’d seen Nick get like this before when a spirit’s plight had left him depressed for days, but in this case, where only a story was involved, he couldn’t see why Nick was reacting so strongly. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Nothing,” Nick said. His arms tightened around John. “Don’t say anything.”

“Mmm?” John murmured. “Just do?” He didn’t wait for an answer that he wasn’t sure he’d get; he slid his hand between their bodies and cupped Nick’s groin, getting a small, secret thrill out of the way Nick responded to the caress. After all these years, even with both of them certain of each other, secure in loving and being loved, it wouldn’t have been surprising if the heat between them had lessened, but it hadn’t. Nick could get him hard and aching with a look, sometimes, and if they weren’t close to the bedroom when that happened, well, every room in the house had walls, and he was more than happy to put Nick against one and slide to his knees. Or let it hold him up while Nick did his best to fuck him through it, with John regretting nothing but that he couldn’t see Nick’s flushed face, his green eyes glittering, his lips parted on a moan of pleasure.

“Let’s --” Nick’s breath hitched in a particularly tempting manner, one which insisted that John kiss him, and not gently, either. John did, parting Nick’s lips with his own and licking at the inside of the top one with the tip of his tongue. “God,” Nick said when he’d pulled back a bit. “Are you trying to make me forget what I was going to say?”

John smiled and rubbed his thumb along Nick’s covered erection, loving the way Nick’s eyes darkened with arousal. “Not trying, no, but I can’t say I don’t like knowing that I can.”

“What I was going to say…” Nick got John to tilt his head to the side with a nudge of his nose and applied his mouth, hot and tantalizing, to the sensitive spot just under John’s jaw, making him gasp. “Let’s go upstairs. I don’t want to be interrupted.”

More could have been said -- explanations that John didn’t need to hear, not because they would have spoiled the mood but because he didn’t need to be like Josh to know what Nick was thinking. Neither of them bothered; they just made their way to the staircase and then up it, tumbling into the room like puppies instead of the middle-aged dogs they really were. John kicked the door closed with a foot and manhandled Nick over toward the bed, laughing when Nick’s hands fumbled at the front of his jeans.

“What?” Nick asked. “What’s so funny?” But he was laughing, too, and at the same time, he got John’s button and zip undone and slid his hand inside to find John’s skin. His fingers were cold but his touch no less delicious for it, and John groaned softly and caught his mouth in another kiss.

“Nothing,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “There’s nothing funny. God, Nick --”

“I know. I know. Just --”

“Get naked,” John said, not sure if it was an order, a suggestion, or a plea. It didn’t matter as long as it happened.

Nick stepped back and stood with his hands at his sides. His chin lifted in a challenge, his mouth quirked in a small smile. “You do it.”

Because he knew once he’d got Nick out of his clothes, he wouldn’t be in a fit state to deal with his own, John kept Nick waiting while he stripped, his gaze locked with Nick’s and his hands shaking slightly. When every stitch he was wearing was in a heap on the floor, discarded, tossed, or kicked away, he walked behind Nick and reached around, hooking his fingers in the open neck of Nick’s shirt.

“There was a time I’d have just ripped this off you,” he murmured into Nick’s ear, his mouth so close to it that his lips brushed the tender, soft flesh of Nick’s earlobe on every other word. He pulled at the shirt until the top button was straining, ready to pop. “But it’s just as good making you wait.” He eased his grip on the fabric and then flicked open the top button, which gave him more skin to touch. “Of course, it means I have to wait, too…”

Nick moaned and leaned back against John’s shoulder, exposing the taut, long line of his throat. John licked along it, leaving the skin shimmering for a moment, and then eased open two buttons in quick succession so that he could slide his hand inside the shirt across Nick’s chest. A soft, flat nipple became a hard point under the insistent rub of his thumb, and he smiled, nuzzling into Nick’s neck even as he pinched the tender skin with just enough force to make Nick gasp and arch into the rough caress.

“I know it shouldn’t still surprise me that you can do this to me,” Nick said. His breathing was quicker now, his body tense with desire. “But it does. All I have to do is think about you, really. And then you do things like this -- touch me, and your mouth is…” He squirmed suddenly, pressing his arse back against John’s own eager length, and begged, “Please.”

John slid Nick’s shirt down over his shoulders, baring them, and set his teeth into one, grunting as he pushed his own hips forward. He knew what Nick would feel like inside -- aye, hot and slick -- and the familiarity didn’t make him want it any less. “Ah, but you’ll have to tell me what it is you want, exactly. Otherwise, how can I give it to you?”

“You,” Nick said immediately.

“Not specific enough.” John had finished unbuttoning Nick’s shirt and slid his hand lower, but now he stopped and waited, fingertips brushing lightly enough over Nick’s stomach that he would have known the man had goose bumps even if he hasn’t been able to see them with his own eyes. “Do you want my mouth on you?” Nick whimpered softly, hips restless. “Or do you want me inside you?”

Nick nodded, turning his head in a mute plea for John’s lips. Never able to resist that request, John kissed him. “Inside me.” As a reward, John ran his palm down along Nick’s erection, and Nick gasped again. “Please, John.”

“God, it’s my pleasure,” John told him. He moved around Nick, staying close, until they were face to face again. “I need you naked,” he said. “I need all of you right now, every inch bare, nothing between us.”

Nick flicked at the button fastening his jeans, his eyes hazy and his mouth looking ripe for kissing. “Please,” Nick said again, as if he trusted John to translate the word into “hurry up.” He swayed where he stood, a shiver running through him.