Page 11 of The Castle of Carnal Desires

“Durell?” Silence. I couldn’t feel his presence, like I could normally. It was like a little prickle of awareness, a shiver down your spine. But right now, I was getting nothing. “Durell?”

I called his name a few more times but got no answer. Panic set in. What if making love had burned him out? What if he could never take form again?

What had we done?

I called Harris McTavish and let him call the authorities. His voice had held barely contain anger during the call, but eventually he gave me a terse “I’ll take care of it,” and hung up.

The police and the McTavishs’ had arrived at Dun Durell at the same time, but I hid out in my room like a chicken. I didn’t want to look at the mess on the steps again.

Heavy footsteps sounded out in the hall and Derek swung open my door.

“Are you alright?” He was across the room in three long strides and had me firmly in his arms. He held me tightly against his chest and I could hear the wild thumping of his heart.

“I’m fine Derek. Just a little shaken,” my voice was muffled against his shirt.

“Harris is down talking to the police now. They’ll take some pictures and a statement from ye, and then we’ll clean up that atrocity.” He cursed in Gaelic too. I was learning quite a few more Gaelic cuss words in the last twenty-four hours.

I just nodded and let him hold me. I looked at the bed, with the twisted sheets, and wondered if Derek could tell that someone had had sex there, or if he thought I just had a restless night. He wouldn’t be wrong if he thought the latter.

After Durell had disappeared, I’d begun to pace. I paced while I called Harris. I paced and tried to think, to organize the crazy mess into which my emotions had devolved. I tried to process the fact that I just fucked a ghost and my feelings for Harris and Derek. I thought about the fact there was someone out there who hated me enough to kill a poor defenseless fox and want to throw what sounded like a molotov cocktail into a building where I was sleeping, just to make a point. I was still pacing when Derek arrived in the room.

Derek pushed me a little away and looked down into my eyes. “I’m moving in, and I dinnae care what ye say about it. I’ll set up another room today. I care about you, Aili, and the thought of what might have happened, if that sick feck had gotten in here, if it had been you rather than the fox…” he let out a guttural growl and pulled me back against his chest.

I wasn't going to fight him on this. I would feel better with him here.

“Okay,” I mumbled. I hated being the damsel in distress, but I didn’t want to put myself in a vulnerable position either. Better to appear weak than be dead.

Someone cleared their voice in the doorway. I stepped away from Derek and noticed Harris. He was looking between us with his eyebrows raised, and then shrugged.

“The police would like to take ye statement. They’re in the kitchen. I’ll go bury the fox and clean up a little.” He turned and left Derek and I alone again.

“I’ll head home and grab some stuff. Harris will be here if ye need anything.”

“Thanks for everything.”

Downstairs I told the police everything that had happened, leaving out the part about Durell slicing at the offender with his sword and coming to my rescue. They’d lock me up in a pretty padded room. They said they would be in touch and left.

I got the dustpan and swept up the glass and scrubbed the blood spots that speckled the flagstones. There was still no sign of Durell. Harris came back in after seeing the police officers off and helped me clean up the mess.

All my pacing the night before had given me a chance to think over the mess I had created with Derek, and Durell, and the more I studied it, the more I realized that I acted so out of character with them both because I cared for them both. I’d been attracted to Derek since the first day I arrived, that was undeniable, but he had a wit and charm that was infectious, and a way of staring at me when I spoke, like he wanted to know my soul.

Durell, in his own way, had become my best friend and my security blanket. He was always here with me, so I was never lonely. We laughed together, watched movies, and we learned from each other. He’d listened to my fears, and to my pity party without judgement. He’s opened up about himself and had been completely unguarded.

I stood there and stared out the window for god knows how long, just thinking over the tangle my life had become. I had feelings for a psychologist and a ghost. It sounded like the opening line for a bad joke.

“Aili, are ye ok?” I started a little when I realized Harris was standing right behind me.

I laughed. “Probably not. Harris, I've got a problem.”

His brow knitted and he looked me over, as if looking for the source of my problem. Maybe I should put a giant warning sign on my wayward vagina. Instead, I gave him a reassuring smile. “Let's go into the kitchen.”

He emptied the dustpan into a bucket and followed me into the other room. I poured us both a cup of coffee, mostly so I didn't have to look him in the eye when I said this first part. “I had sex with Durell.”

Harris made a choking noise. “Ye had sex with the ghost?” I looked up and nodded and saw that his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it closed, and I could see a gamut of emotions stream across his face; shock, confusion, maybe a touch of jealousy, but it seemed to settle on scientific curiosity.

“So, then he could get his, er jolly roger up?” My whole body flushed with embarrassment.

“Seriously? I tell you I had sex with a dead guy, and that’s all you have to ask?” He looked at me expectantly. I sighed. “Yes.”

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