Doors To The Dead, Rae Else [classic books for 13 year olds .txt] 📗

that the sluagh forced upon him of the day they fought and died had been so strong that they obliterated the night itself.

The backdoor to the villa opened. Theo sat up, massaging his shoulder. He’d smacked it on the ground.

Antony peered out.

The smashed bottles must have been enough to wake the dead.

From the shadow of the doorway, Von saw him. She ran out. ‘Are you all right?’

Theo’s heart still struck his chest like a war drum, cold sweat trickled down his forehead and back, betraying his fear. That, or that he'd gone for a night-time run.

As ever, Theo was quick to tell a partial truth, ‘I saw her.’

Von stilled as she knelt beside him.

Theo smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘I saw Donna, and being the hardcore parapsychologist that I am, fell over.’

Instead of fussing over him, Von’s dark stare held his. ‘Will you tell me about her?’

The ruckus of broken bottles woke Richie Rich too, and by the time they’d gathered in the lounge, there was a full house. With news that the ghost had been sighted, none of the musicians were keen to return to their separate rooms. Although Theo suspected Antony was much more afraid of leaving Von alone with him than of the ghost.

Under an array of moth-eaten blankets, they all camped out in the living-room. Theo told them about Donna's appearance, minus his fear-drenched memory of Roman legions. He painted a vivid picture of the landscape changing around Donna for Von, explaining how he was sure she had been showing him the vineyard in its heyday.

Richie swore that Theo must have got high on the second-hand smoke earlier.

Antony sat and stewed. His expression altering from one of condescending disbelief to anger that Von was lapping up every single ridiculous word.

Clearly, when they'd noticed Theo gone earlier, Antony had hoped it was for good. Theo explained he’d gone for a walk when there'd been no ghostly activity. He’d gone to clear his head. They didn’t need to know that he’d been for a climb in the Alps or that his blood offering had incited Donna’s appearance. He managed to explain the cut on his hand as from his fall. The bundle of flowers and fruits he'd brought back from his night-time stroll were, obviously, for Von. Something that earned him another beautiful blush.

Eventually, their talk died down, and everyone's breathing became that of sleep’s restful rhythm.

Except Theo’s.

Thoughts of Donna left him wakeful. He knew better than to leave himself vulnerable to her after the soul warfare she’d waged on him. He’d been fooled by her once, but he swore he’d have her before the night was through.

Once the musicians had nodded off, he eased himself up, noticing that Von’s hand was inches from his. She’d hung on his every word. After the terror that had flooded his soul tonight, the idea of losing himself in sex appealed. Yet he ripped his gaze away from the delicate lines of her body. After all, Donna was the first true challenge he’d had in ages. He would claim her.

In the ground floor bedroom again, he settled himself on the bed and closed his eyes. His sluagh cascaded over the grapevines and through the earth, searching for hints of memory that she’d suffused the land with. Donna would be resting somewhere, her soul cloaked in one of her memories and buried within the land or building like a seed waiting to sprout.

He smiled.

Or in the van.

Theo drenched the van in shadows, sifting through its metal and plastic. Unsuccessful, he turned his attention to the depths of the dusty soil, and to the sandstone villa. All the while he tried to catch the stray thoughts that souls put out so often, that echoed through space like laughter or lamentation.

As the night wound on, and Theo didn't feel any contact with Donna, weariness set in. The cascade of sluagh drifting through the house, gradually returned to him as his focus wavered. His chin slouched to his chest and his breathing deepened as sleep fell upon him.

Only then when all the sluagh had returned, did Donna slip out of the blond-haired musician. She’d caught enough of the condescending stranger’s thoughts to know that he wouldn’t reach into the simple-minded man.

Donna’s spectral form shimmered along the hallway until she stood over Theo. She reached into his soul, stroking the surface of his mind with a feather-soft touch. She’d sensed him coaxing her thoughts out of her earlier with the strange tendrils of smoke that issued from him. She had no idea what it was that she was doing, but since she’d died she didn't know much about anything. Only that the memories that she lingered in were far more real than the outer world.

Even the strangers’ memories were a refuge for her. A much-needed one when she’d sensed this new man arrive. She quivered at the thought of the mind she touched. Somehow this man connected with the unseen world, which she was a part of. His unnatural perception repulsed her. She felt as if she were touching a being with a hundred eyes; each one in danger of opening and clapping its sight on her.

The tide of his memories echoed through her, the horrible cries of soldiers ricocheting through her. She wrenched up the memory, quivering with the effort of it and worry that he might wake. But his breathing remained deep and even. She pushed his fears into his dreamscape.

She didn’t want him here. She didn’t mind the musicians, but she wanted this man gone. Perhaps this would send him away. She stepped back into the shadows, retreating into the blond-haired musician and left Theo to stumble over the wild battlefield of his dream.

Theo’s heart drummed as he sprinted for the woods. Each Auxilia troop impaled his soul. Ahead, the woods abundance beckoned. He could lose them in there. His heartbeat grew crazed. It thundered in his ears. The reverberation came from behind him. He careened his neck. A Caledonian loomed over him. The warrior was