Page 15 of Wednesday

Slowly, the tide of memories receded, leaving me shaking and disoriented. When he finally separated our hands, breaking the blood connection between us, I nearly collapsed. He guided me to the stone bed, easing me down onto the layers of fabric with surprising gentleness. My palm still bled sluggishly, the wound appearing black in the dim light of my fallen flashlight.

"What... was that?" I managed, my voice raw as if I had been screaming.

"True sharing," Morrow replied, crouching beside me. "You carried Andrew's death. I carried your life. For a moment, we existed between worlds."

I stared at him, trying to process. "Is it always like that?"

"No." Morrow's hand moved to my face, one elongated finger tracing my cheekbone.

"I felt... everything."

"Yes." Morrow's eyes seemed to burn brighter as he regarded me. "You are so very alive." His lipless mouth curved slightly. “You were lost in the sensations.”

I looked down, feeling my cheeks heat. My damp panties were a glaring reminder of how lost I had gotten.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Now you understand what it means to share with me." Morrow withdrew his hand, rising to his full height. "And you must decide if you wish to continue down this path."

"I need to think," I blurted.

Morrow nodded. "Of course. What we have shared already cannot be undone. The rest..." his gaze moved over me, "...will unfold as it will."

He extended his hand, helping me rise from the stone bed. My legs still felt unsteady, my body both exhausted and sated.

"Dawn approaches," Morrow said. "You should return to the surface."

I nodded, retrieving my phone from the floor. I checked it over and let out a sigh of relief. As I turned to leave, Morrow's voice stopped me.

"Carmen Ruiz."

I looked back at him.

"What we have shared changes you," he said softly.

"Into something like you?" I asked.

His lipless mouth curved in that unsettling smile. "No. Something entirely new."

I did not know how to respond to that, so I simply nodded and made my way back through the narrow passage.

“Two rights and a left,” Morrow called, but he did not follow.

By the time I emerged into the cemetery above, the eastern sky had begun to lighten. I looked down at myself. The left cuff of my security jacket was stained with both my blood and Morrow's. Hopefully, it would wash out. Otherwise, I had no idea what I would tell Winters.

I made my way back to the cottage, my mind still reeling from the intensity of the sharing. Andrew Coleson's memories had already begun to fade at the edges, but I could still recall the feel of his wife's skin, the taste of expensive whiskey, the precise quality of his grief when his brother died.

And beneath those borrowed human experiences, something older and darker lingered. Fragments of Morrow's consciousness that had transferred along with Andrew's memories. Ancient hunger. Patient watchfulness. The strange, cold comfort of existing apart from time.

Inside the cottage, I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting hot water wash away the physical evidence. But it could not wash away what had happened. I had crossed a line tonight. Several lines.

As I toweled off, I glanced in the mirror. Same body, same eyes. But there was a flush in my cheeks that had been missing for a while. Despite my proximity to death, I had never looked more alive.

As dawn broke fully over the cemetery, I crawled into bed, Andrew Coleson's memories and Morrow's ancient consciousness still echoing in the corners of my mind. My last thought before sleep claimed me was a simple, terrifying truth: I wanted more. Of all of it.

Chapter Seven

Imoved through the day in a fog, my body going through the motions while my mind wandered. The wound on my palm had vanished during the night, my skin smooth and unscarred. I found myself stroking my unblemished hand as I drifted from room to room.

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