Surrendering Spirit

Chapter 5

Was there anything as beautiful as a sleeping woman? Ahren didn't think so. At least not as beautiful as Anastasia. This was the second time is as many days that he watched her sleep. It was wrong, yet somehow, right. Of course he had to be there to protect her from his brother. But how? How could he protect her when until just a night ago he wasn't able to touch the living, or at least he'd never been able to before then and he still couldn't figure out he had managed that.

Rhiannon always told him that it would come with time. That when he needed to be able to be in the living world, it would happen, only Ahren never believed, until now.

Reaching out to Anastasia, Ahren tried to touch her softness again. His hand went right through her.

"Damn it."

Anastasia mumbled and rolled over. She couldn't feel him, but somehow she could hear him or feel his emotions. They had a connection that was deeper than physical, he was sure of it. Maybe he could use this to warn her. To protect her.

And then the chill entered the room. Anastasia drew the edges of the quilt around her without ever waking. Ahren knew. He turned and though saw no one, knew that the hand of evil had touched his beloved and he was angry. He followed what he imagined the acrid stench of pure wickedness smelled like into the living room, and while he still saw no one, he knew that he was not alone.

"Show yourself Darrius," he yelled.

Cackling male laughter filled the room. Windows rattled, pictures shook and furniture vibrated as Ahren watched on. A loud clatter grabbed Ahren's attention and a vase swayed on the table near him. He reached out to catch it without thinking that he couldn't, but did and set it up right again. Ahren was surprised. This was key moment in his understanding of how to help the woman he loved. CRASH! Anastasia's keys fell on the ground and the radio flicked on making Ahren jump.

"You bastard. Show yourself coward."

All movement ceased. The radio was flung across the room by invisible hands as Ahren, helpless, looked on. He felt stupid for letting it scare him, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was ridding the house of evil and protecting his beloved.

Ahren felt it before he knew what happened. He had been knocked to the ground and when he looked up, at first he saw only the eyes of his brother and then Darrius appeared before him.

"Don't ever call me a coward Ahren. Ever," Darrius roared and the house shook as if it were frightened. It took him a moment to regain himself. "I will be back," he threatened. "You won't always be here. She's mine, just like before. You cannot have what is mine, and if you try, I will kill her just like I did Margaret. And you. Get in my way and before this is over, I'll send you to hell." And then he was gone.

Ahren knew a couple of things. First, Darrius was as crazy in death as he was in life and second, when he needed to be corporeal, he could. He just had to figure out how.

Remembering the first time with Anastasia, he hadn't thought about himself, just about her, touching her, holding her, just her. This time, the vase was falling and he reached out to grab it before it crashed and woke Anastasia. Again, not thinking about himself, but about her. Obviously his power to become flesh had to do with her and not with himself and maybe, just maybe, he could use this to protect her. It gave him hope.

For several days, Anastasia wandered her grandmothers house, looking through old papers and photographs. Learning about herself and the similarities between the two of them that Anastasia never took the time to think about before.

Taking one room at a time, she would look at her grandmothers worldly possessions. In her grandmothers bedroom, she still couldn't think of it as her own, Anastasia found her grandmother's diary. Feeling like a voyeur she turned the pages and learned of her family history. She cried when she read about her grandfather's death and how it nearly devastated her grandmother. She cheered as she saw her grandmother gain strength little by little. Page by page.

She was a little shocked at first by what she read, but by the end, when Rhiannon foretold of her own death and of how each of the grandchildren would come to the cabin, one after the other and learn of their own destinies, Anastasia felt relieved. She knew that in their own ways, each of them would be okay.

After a week, she felt as if she knew her grandmother better than she ever did. She felt like she knew a more bit more about her family too. Especially about her parents.

And as each day went by, she was more sure than ever that she was not alone. But it didn't scare her. Instead she felt comforted. Safe. Loved.

Ahren watched her day after day. He longed to be with her, though try as he might, he couldn't manifest to be seen by her. Instead, he followed her and tried to learn more about her. He laughed along with her when she found pictures of her as a child playing with her cousins. He cried with her when she held her grandmothers diary.

She dreamed of the man again. He was in the cabin with her, holding her hand, the two of them laughing as lovers often do. She felt close, loved. They slid to the floor and as they start to make love a shadow overtook them. Anastasia looked over the man's shoulder as a malevolent being encroached on the lovers. Anastasia screamed.

From the living room, Ahren heard Anastasia's scream. He ran to the bedroom to protect the woman he loved. Just as he reached the door, Anastasia sat up, opened her eyes in terror. She screamed again.

"It's all right," Ahren tried to reassure her taking a step forward. He stopped.

Anastasia stared at him. For a moment fear was spread upon her face until recognition set in her eyes.

"It's you," she whispered. She slid from the covers and came to stand in front of him. He nodded, afraid to move. Afraid to speak.

"I know you," said his woman. She reached up. Her hand caressed his face. Anastasia slid both hands behind his head, stroked his coarse short hair and pulled his face to hers. As their lips met, what felt like molten fire spread through his belly.

Ahren knew this was heaven. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her pulling her close. Their bodies melted into one another so that he didn't know where he left off and she began. He could feel her heartbeat, it became his. They were one. The part of him that had been missing since the day he died was back. He was whole again. He was alive.

"Anastasia," he whispered her name into her hair. Without words, he lifted her off the ground and into his arms where he held her to him never to let her go. Ahren took two steps toward the bed holding on to Anastasia as he should have held on to his life.

Gently he placed her on the bed. She looked up into his eyes, a smile played upon her lips. As he moved to sit beside her she reached up to him and placed her hands upon his chest, holding him back. Ahren, desperate searched her eyes wondering if he had done something wrong. She bit her lip and looked both sweet and wicked at the same time. Ahren could not move, he watched with baited breath.

Ahren lay beside her, holding her. She laid her head upon his chest, his arms protectively around her until they both fell asleep never knowing they were being watched from the shadows.