Every Touch (36 page)

   He sat with Laila and Kelly for an hour, talking quietly while Trish slept until he went to wake her for the final preparations before they left. 

   Denny had been dreading this part more than anything else.  The ritual said, “The blood of the spirit shall marry with the blood of the living, the one in whom true love burns bright, and shall be carried within the living vessel to flow out onto the remains”.  When he found out what that actually meant, he was horrified.  But now here they were, doing it. 

   He sat behind Laila, his right arm around her waist, his chest pressed against her back.  A towel covered her lap.  Kelly sat before them, a scalpel in her latex-gloved hands.

   “Are you ready?” she said.

   “No,” he replied with sincerity.

   “Yes,” Laila said at the same time.

   She reached out her left arm, palm up.  Kelly nodded, sterilised the area on the inside of Laila’s arm, and began to make an incision.  As soon as the blade bit into Laila’s skin, her breath hissed in between her teeth and Denny felt her tense.  He watched the scalpel cut into her for two seconds, her blood oozing around the blade, before he couldn’t stand it anymore and squeezed his eyes closed against the sight of the woman he loved being hurt.  He tightened his hold on her, trying to give her strength he didn’t feel.

   “Alright, Denny, your turn.” 

   He opened his eyes at Kelly’s voice to see a four inch long cut in Laila’s forearm seeping blood onto the towel on her lap.  He blinked away tears.  Kelly looked pale as she reached for his arm which he had extended next to Laila’s.  Running her hand around his arm to be sure of its position, she held it from underneath and pressed the scalpel to his skin.

   Sharp, burning agony exploded into his flesh.  He tensed as Laila had and she gripped his right hand in hers.  It took less than ten seconds for Kelly to make the cut, but it felt to Denny like hours.  The pain was excruciating. 

   This time he managed to watch the whole process as the scalpel sliced through his flesh, finding it easier to see his own mutilation than Laila’s, but nevertheless his masculinity was taking a beating.  He was glad the three women couldn’t see how much it was taking out of him. 

   When Kelly had finished, he rotated his elbow and pressed his arm on top of Laila’s, joining the two incisions so the blood would flow from his wound into her.  He entwined their fingers and they sat in silence, allowing their blood to intermingle.  She sniffed and he buried his face in her shoulder, willing her pain away as his own arm throbbed.

   They remained that way for ten minutes, giving it as much time as possible to work, before they separated.  Kelly immediately cleaned around Laila’s wound and applied a dressing to seal in the flow of blood.  Denny’s cut had stopped bleeding and he took the plaster strip Kelly handed him and stuck it to his skin. 

   He felt Laila take a shaky breath.  She was still sitting against him, his arm around her.  Denny found himself not wanting to move or let go. 

   “It’s time,” she said, her voice soft and trembling.  She leaned forward and he let her stand, joining her moments later.

   Trish and Kelly stood with them.  The backpacks and folding ladder they were taking were leaning against the wall by the door.  Everything was ready.  Except for Denny.

   He hugged Kelly, taking her completely by surprise, and she let out a small yelp then laughed as she hugged him back.  He then moved to Trish.  His sister held onto him for long moments before kissing his cheek and pulling away, wiping at her eyes. 

   Then, taking Laila’s hand, he led her into the bedroom and shut the door.

   Without a word she wrapped her arms around his waist, melting into him as he held her tight against him.  They stood for a long time, not moving. 

   Knowing Laila had changed his life in deeper, more meaningful ways than even dying had, he couldn’t accept that they could lose each other when they had barely even started their journey together.  This couldn’t be the end, yet he was terrified that it was. The thought that this might be the last time he held her made letting her go unthinkable, as much as he knew he had to.

   She tilted her head back from his chest and raised her face.  For a few seconds, he gazed at her, amazed all over again at how beautiful she was.  Simply looking at her made his head spin. 

   He lowered his head, brushed his nose against hers, and touched her lips with his, whispering, “I love you”.

   With a sob, she grasped his face with both hands and pressed her mouth to him.  One hand pushed into her silky hair as, cradling her head, he kissed her with his whole body, heart and soul.  Her hands gripped his shirt at the back of his neck.  Their tongues swept against each other, the kiss fiery, profound, desperate. 

   Abruptly she pulled away, dropping back down onto her heels and leaning her forehead against his chest.

   “I love you,” she said.  “Whatever happens tonight, you have to know that I will always love you.”

   She stepped back and wiped the tears from her face with one hand.  He looked down at her helplessly, wanting more than anything to stop her from leaving, but knowing he couldn’t.  For a moment she placed her palm flat onto the centre of his chest.  He covered it with his own hand and laid the other onto her chest, over her heart.  Her free hand lifted and held it against her and they stood for a few long seconds. Then, taking his hand, Laila turned away and led him back into the living room.

   Kelly and Trish were waiting by the door.

   “Let’s go,” Laila said.

   Denny kept her hand in his as they rode down in the lift.  When they reached the door, Trish and Kelly went out first.  Laila turned to him and he tilted his head forward, leaning his forehead against hers and closing his eyes.

   “I belong to you,” he said, “always.”

   She stepped back toward the door that Kelly was holding open for her, stretching their arms to full length until their hands slipped apart.  Denny felt as though his heart was being ripped from his chest. 

   With one look back, Laila turned and ran down the steps and was gone.

Laila looked up at the thirteen foot high wrought iron fence and ornate gates leading into the cemetery. 

   “It’s a good thing the fences at the side are lower,” Kelly said, standing beside her.

   “Yes,” she replied, “and less pointy.”

   She, Laila and Trish looked toward the side fence fifty feet away to their left.

   “Hmm,” Trish said, sounding unconvinced.

   They had scoped out the cemetery two days previously and come prepared.  Nevertheless, their planned route into the dark graveyard still looked daunting. 

   They made their way around to the side of the enclosure, fighting their way past bushes planted out from the base of the fence, apparently to dissuade anyone from doing exactly what they were about to.  By the time they reached the fence, all three of them were sporting several scratches on their exposed arms and faces.

   “If anyone comes up with a believable story I can tell John about how I got these, let me know,” Trish said, dabbing a tissue at some blood oozing from a cut on her elbow.

   “Tell him you went jogging and tripped and fell into some bushes,” Kelly said.

   Trish snorted.  “I said believable,” she said.  “He’d never swallow a story involving me jogging.”

   “Really?” Kelly said.  “You look in great shape.  You must work out.”

   “I like you a lot,” Trish smiled, patting her on the shoulder.    

   They looked up at the ten foot high wrought iron fence in front of them.

   “Well,” Laila said, “let’s do this.”

   She extended the folding ladder she was carrying and leaned it against the fence, making sure the base was secure on the ground.  She winced at the pain as she stretched, checking the dressing over the long cut on her forearm.  She wasn’t sure if she could bleed out Denny’s blood, but she didn’t want to take any chances.  She was relieved to see it holding secure.

   “Right, I’ll go over first,” Kelly said, “then you pass the bags over to me when you get up there Lai, then Trish, you can come last.”

   “Sounds good,” Trish said.  She grinned.  “I feel like an action hero.”

   Kelly took hold of the bottom of the ladder, stopping when Laila threw her arms around her, hugging her first then moving to Trish.

   “Thank you both,” she said, blinking back tears.  “I’m so grateful you’re here.  Denny and I are so lucky to have you.”

   “Okay,” Kelly said, turning back to them and opening her arms wide, motioning them in with her fingers, “group hug.”

   Laughing softly, they embraced each other then stepped back.

   “Alright, go,” Laila said, waving Kelly away, “before I burst into tears.”

   Kelly scaled the ladder quickly, dropping athletically to the ground on the other side, impressing Laila no end.  She followed up the ladder at a more sedate pace then straddled the fence and reached down to grab the two backpacks Trish handed up to her.  Passing them down one at a time to Kelly, she then climbed all the way over, lowered herself by her arms as far as she could go, then pushed herself away from the fence with her toes and dropped to the ground inside the cemetery.  Her ankles protested as she landed and bent her knees to absorb the impact, but she made it intact.  It wouldn’t do to injure herself when they’d barely got started. 

   Trish climbed next, sitting astride the fence at the top as Laila had then lifting the ladder and manoeuvring it closer to the iron bars.  Laila and Kelly reached through and grabbed it, pulling it between the bars and setting it against the inside of the fence, and Trish climbed down to join them.

   They looked at each other and grinned, enjoying the small victory of getting inside with relative ease.  Trish and Kelly shouldered a backpack each and they started into the graveyard, Trish leading the way.

   The cemetery was on the outskirts of town, far away from any businesses and on the edge of a housing development, so there was little passing foot traffic during the day and practically none at night.  The street lights out on the road were few and far between so the interior was dark, barely lit by any artificial light.  The moon was three-quarters full, however, and it cast an eerie glow on the surrounding headstones. 

   “We’re three women in a cemetery at night,” Kelly said quietly as they moved between the graves.  “I feel a bad horror movie with ropey special effects coming on.”

   “Nah,” Trish replied, “our acting’s too good.”

   “Besides,” Laila said, “vampires and zombies don’t exist.”

   “No, just ghosts.”

   All three stopped as Kelly’s reply soaked in. 

   “Hey,” she said, “you don’t think...?”

   “Not the time or the place,” Trish interrupted before she could get any further. “Let’s not make this any scarier than it needs to be.”

   She started off again when something caught Laila’s attention.  She grasped Trish’s arm.

   “I hear something,” she whispered.

   They held still to listen.  The sound of a car engine rumbled from the direction of the front gate.  Laila peered through the darkness.  A streetlight was about ten feet from the gates and it reflected from the edges of a car that had pulled into the area in front of the gate, its headlights illuminating the street in front of it.  She could just make out the rectangular lump of lights on the top.  The driver’s side door was opening.

   She dropped to the ground behind a gravestone, pulling Trish down with her.  Kelly lowered behind her.

   “What?” Trish mouthed silently.

   “Police,” Laila mouthed back, pointing toward the gate.

   Both Trish and Kelly looked in that direction.  Their expressions told Laila they had seen what she had.  Both of them found a gravestone to scuttle behind.  Moments later, the beam of a powerful torch swept the area around them.

   Laila huddled herself into as small a size as possible, pressing herself against the cold, hard marble hiding her.  Her heart pounded.  She looked toward where the ladder leaned against the side fence.  If they or it were seen, this would all be over, ended before they’d even had a chance to try.

   The beam of light continued to move around the cemetery for a few more seconds before abruptly vanishing.  The thud of a car door closing echoed from the surrounding headstones and an engine roared into life and moved away.  Laila waited a full minute before she peeked around the side of her hiding place.  The area by the gate was empty.  She breathed out.

   “Probably just a routine check,” Trish said as she straightened, readjusting her backpack as she did.

   “I hope so,” Laila said, standing.

   They continued across the large cemetery in silence until they reached the section dedicated to cremations.  Trish hadn’t visited Denny’s grave since the headstone had been laid five years ago, saying she preferred to remember his life rather than his death, so when they had visited two days previously, they had found the spot, making sure they knew exactly where they were going.  When they reached it, the single rose Laila had placed in front of the small pink marble headstone two days ago was there, a little wilted, but still red in the darkness.  For some reason, seeing it made her smile.  She moved it aside.