Page 41 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Skye

Air rushed into my lungs in the strangest of ways: like it did, but didn’t all at once.

Why did that feel so wrong?

My eyes flickered open, confusion blinking them shut again momentarily, until the intricate etchings of patterns came into focus, sprawled over the ceiling above me.

“You came,” whispered a disbelieving voice beside me, scaring the living daylights out of me.

I attempted to sit upright, but nausea ballooned throughout me when the movement was less of an action and more interpretation. As if failing to understand its order, my torso lagged a few seconds behind, as if dragging through each second. Floating.

Swerving my gaze to the voice, I found the ghost I knew to be Landon sitting beside me, wonder spreading into all of his features.

His dark orbs blew wide, an uncertainty holding him in place, it seemed. As if just as confused as I was. His slack jawline hollowed out his already chiseled cheeks even further with the motion, naked lips parted slightly. The spitting image of Wesley. His twin.

Only I was certain this soul, as it was, no longer belonged to Landon.

Reality dawned on me as I remembered how I had gotten myself here, between the veil of life and death. A place I swore I would never step foot in.

I pressed my hands to my temples, my limbs drifting like a distant memory of someone I used to know. All of this felt so wrong.

“You’re really here,” the stranger beside me whispered again, making no attempt to hide his disbelief.

Scurrying to my feet as best as ghost me could, my shoes barely dusted the floorboards, limbs flailing. I stammered with the comprehension I had done it. I had managed to get myself here. With him. The void.

My words left me so quietly I struggled to hear them myself. “Who are you?”

At that point, he also raised to his feet, if that was even the right term for it. He made sure to keep a suitable distance between us.

“Sorry I’m…” He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, it seemed. “You really are beautiful.” He sank his hands into his pockets, his gaze sinking into every inch of me.

It felt so strange, like I knew him but didn’t. I couldn’t comprehend the feeling.

Gathering a steady breath, I willed myself to not let him see my apprehension.

“What is your name?” I spoke cautiously, a mixture of fear and zero expectations keeping me on edge.

He rushed a hand through his hair, the hair that fell over his forehead just as Wesley’s did.

He didn’t speak, only stood before me looking like a shadow of the man I desperately loved. The man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“ Please . I came here to find you. To sort this all out. Can’t you at least speak with me?”

“I never meant to hurt you.” His rich tone rolled over me like fine leather. Smooth, and slightly deeper than expected. “My name is Edward.”

Edward. The name of the man in the photo.

Do. Not. Freak. Out.

Opting for silence, I let him continue, closely watching him drift to the window.

“This was your favorite room,” he said with a subtle motion of his hand, and my mind spiraled.

Your favorite.

As in mine.

“I’m sorry, what?” I questioned, keeping my place in the middle of the living room.

“You loved this room the most. You would stare out at the garden while you sat in your favorite armchair, choosing your fabrics.” He turned to me, memories imploding from his irises as they captured mine.

I scrambled for words. “I’m sorry I don’t follow.”

He cautiously moved closer. “I understand this must be confusing for you.” He nudged closer another few steps until every cell in me braced. Holding out a hand as if to touch my temple, his voice lowered, deep breaths collecting in his chest. “Allow me to show you?”

Should I trust this… soul? He had yet to give me any reason to question his intentions, which so far had only been respectfully pleasant. If he held answers I needed, I had to trust he would not cause me harm.

“You can show me ?” I had heard of witches able to force visions on others but had never experienced being on the receiving end before.

“Yes. If you would like me to?” His emerald gaze held no hint of ill intentions, but still.

“I don’t know if I should trust you.”

He smiled, his head dipping to the floor before returning to look at me again. “I would never hurt you, my love.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” I rolled my ring around my thumb, nerves getting the better of me.

“Choose to trust me, and I will answer your question.”

I remained still, contemplating his words. Trust him. It seemed ridiculous to trust this stranger, but something deep within my not-quite-dead self wanted to.

I drew in a deep breath, lowering my arms to my sides. “Ok, show me. But you know what I can do. You so much as cross any line here, and I will incinerate you.”

Could I though? Did my magic even work here? I pushed away the fact that I could barely feel it swimming in my veins.

A smile curved the corners of Edward’s mouth into a shockingly beautiful thing. “Deal.”

“May I?” He gestured toward me again, stepping into my space.

I resisted the urge to close my eyes as his hand curled around the side of my neck, eventually resting on my temple. He visibly bristled, like touching me harmed him in some way, but didn’t remove his hand.

Was this a thing? Ghosts could touch each other, yet we couldn’t touch the damn floor?

My last thought dissipated as my vision spun wildly. I swear I would need to lie down for a month to recover. When I collected my thoughts again, I gasped at the completely different man in front of me, still touching my temple.

“It’s ok, it’s me, Edward.” His voice calmed me instantly, like his tone was some medicinal antidote.

He stood before me, looking exactly like the man in the photo, staring down at me, his thumb still on my temple.

A white dress shirt was neatly tucked into his brown slacks, a cautiously lopsided smile brightening his chocolate orbs.

What the actual…

“I don’t understand,” I stammered, sure my tongue was in knots as I found myself lost for words. This man stared at me like he knew me, like he loved me. “You need to tell me what’s going on here. Please.”

I just needed him to speak. Make me understand.

“Am I correct in saying your name is Skye?”

I nodded, finding myself careening into his touch.

“In a previous life, your name was Iris.” His thumb grazed my temple once more, a gentle caress. “And you were my wife.”

My brows arched skyward, a wash of emotions surging into me at once.

It seemed he poured his emotions into me then, a wave of the purest form of love drenching me.

Visions of the woman in the photo, us, swarmed my mind, him showing me exactly as he said he would, this manor as it was many years ago. Our manor.

Floor-to-ceiling drapes suddenly billowed from the windows, mahogany trims lining the room now covered in patterned carpet.

I instantly wanted to take my boots off, but that made little sense.

This wasn’t real. An intricate mantle surrounded an open fireplace, an oversized antique rug planted on the floor in front.

I looked around the room to the window that now had perfectly varnished timber framing each of the many squares in it, overlooking a lush vegetable garden.

Beautiful.

I couldn’t grasp any of this, why I suddenly saw this manor as if it were brand new. And him.

He showed me visions of us laughing as we sat before the dying flames of the open fire, drinking red wine. Of us making hot cakes for breakfast, and me choosing my fabrics, just like he mentioned.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I slid them shut, letting the feeling engulf me completely. Drowning in it.

He showed me things I would share with no other, his hands sliding my dress off my shoulders, his lips capturing mine longingly. I felt him everywhere as if it were real, like this was once us.

I believed him then, that this man was once my lover. I had heard of past lives of course. It was something I would never discard as false until proven otherwise. But how this had occurred, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

Flickers of sadness tore at my insides as if I were feeling his emotions as my own. Maybe I was.

“We lived the fullest of lives, happy and content,” he mused, staring down at me with longing. “You were my everything until suddenly you were not. To not have my entire world beside me for the rest of my life was something I could not get past.”

I didn’t know what to say. But it seemed he didn’t need my words at this point.

“When you passed away, I was profoundly lost. This house was never the same. The light dimmed, even in daylight, the nights overwhelmingly quiet. I could not stand it.”

“That’s sad, but beautiful,” I whispered, as his head hung low.

“I think I’m the reason you speak of, why your new fated bond is not as it should be.”

I nodded in agreement, sadness pooling inside me. “I think so too.”

His hands found my forearms then, but not in a way that scared me. “I’m sorry I could not move on.” His apologetic gaze found mine, and he held onto it for dear life. “I thought that, if you looked at me the way you looked at him, I would feel whole again.”

Earth shattered eyes stared back at me from underneath a wave of brown hair. His apology, it seemed, was not over yet.

“I was born with the gift to walk in another’s skin. Jump souls you might say. But it seems I have taken it too far, taking over another spirit's form. This has caused you displeasure. I know this now.”

I opened my mouth to speak when a 'coo' sounded from nearby, our heads turning to the window where, outside, on a low-hanging branch, sat a dove. It repeated its coo again.

I had never seen a dove in person, and moved toward the window to inspect it closer.

Edward’s presence followed behind. “That dove, you liked to feed it, treated it like our pet.”

The pigeon blinked slowly, its mystic depths of onyx staring back at me. Wind ruffled its light-gray plumage, lifting it just enough to expose an even lighter underlayer.

What a truly beautiful creature.

Edward continued. “We always said in another life we would find each other again. We wanted to come back as doves.”

Doves.

Did my love of doves stem from my previous life?

The fact Wesley and I both had them tattooed on our skin seemed too coincidental. That all this really was connected.

My empathy for this ghost drowned my insides with guilt for what needed to happen next.

I let out an unsteady breath. “I think, in some strange way, we did.”

Edward turned to me, confusion rippling his forehead.

Unbuttoning my jacket, I lifted the fabric of my top slightly, tugging down the waist of my tights until it exposed the dove beneath.

He followed the movement, lingering on the tattoo that now meant so much more to me than I could have ever imagined. “Wesley has one too.”

His stare glistened with hope before he forced himself to look away.

I covered myself back up, my thoughts swimming with theories and answers to this.

“Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe Iris’s soul somehow found mine, and that’s how this is supposed to work,” I offered lightly, moving closer to him.

I don’t know what came over me, the urge to touch him suddenly stronger than before, taking me by surprise.

I took his hand in mine, and he jumped at my touch, a stretch of agonizing pain distorting his features.

“I think maybe your soul is lost, that when you move on, you will find your rightful resting place.”

He focused on our hands, a fist clenched so tight around mine it threatened my blood flow. Did I even have blood flow right now? I couldn’t be sure.

“You really think that?” he asked, still holding tight. “You believe I could find you again?” His voice lifted, hope suddenly filling his words like love would his heart.

I didn’t know for sure, but I couldn’t let him pass over thinking this was the end for him. He had to believe there was more for him, for us all. That there was another life waiting for us where we could right our wrongs and learn from our mistakes. A second chance at all of this.

I covered his hand with my free one, his vice grip loosening. “I believe life is a never-ending story. That we get to relive, rebrand. Find our soulmates again, fall madly in love once more. I believe you will find that love again, whether that be with me or someone else.”

“I don’t want it to be someone else,” he murmured, his penetrating stare filling me with embers.

He stepped closer, and I let him.

I stiffened, unspoken words filtering between us.

“I want to believe you,” he whispered, lifting his hands to the sides of my face, icy hands claiming a check each. “I could not bear it if my next life did not include you.”

His brown depths dropped to my lips.

Oh. Holy. Shit.

Was this ghost about to kiss me?

Edward lowered his lips to the crook of my mouth, kissing me but not .

A tender, lingering thing. His breath heated my cheek as he cupped my face, his thumb caressing my jaw.

The finality of it dawned on me. This was his goodbye without saying the words.

His last kiss, last dance in the void he had occupied for longer than I knew.

Pulling away, he stared deeply into my eyes. “This is not it for us. I have to believe our souls walk this earth more than once.”

A tear slid down my cheek, and he swiped it with his thumb. “You must,” I whispered.

His eyelids slid shut, forehead rested on mine.

I would never forget his last words.

“Fly free, little dove.”

Seconds later, his apparition misted into thin air, as if disappearing into the walls of the manor. The room contorted again, twisting into something I was too scared to confront.

When I opened them again, I blinked repeatedly at two men, standing face-to-face.

Twins.