Wicked Kiss

My voice was strained and barely audible. “Do your job. Take my life. End this. Don’t let me become like Stephen.”

“I’m not giving up on you.”

Tears streaked from the corners of my eyes. The horrible cold pressed in on me on all sides, despite Bishop’s warm touch. Icy fingers sank into me, freezing me from the inside out. “You’ve killed things like me before. Why is this any different?”

“Because you’re different.” He reached down to clutch my hands in his. His brows were drawn tightly together above eyes that blazed bright blue. “You’re better than this. You don’t realize how strong you really are—not yet. You’ve only just started to know what you are. You’re amazing. And you can fight this.” His voice was broken, raw. “I can try to heal you, Sam. Stay with me!”

As he spoke, his voice had grown fainter and fainter. I wanted to reply. I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to be with him, now and forever. Despite everything, despite my fear over his past, despite it being such a short time since we’d met. Despite the secrets and lies...

I loved him.

But there was nothing he could do to save me.

My vision...my world...faded to gray.

Then to black.

Then to white.

And then...uh, blue.

Blue?

Yes. Blue. With fluffy white clouds.

There was something at my back. Something hard. I pressed my hands down to feel hard sand.

Where was I? What just happened?

“Are you going to lie there all day or what?”

I recognized the voice, but it was a moment before I could put a name to it. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked around to see that I was in the middle of a wasteland, just the one from my dream about Bishop...where he’d kissed me and then killed me.

I swiveled until I saw Seth sitting nearby at a table, looking at me.

“You,” I said, confusion crashing down all around me. “I...uh...what’s going on?”

“You died, that’s what’s going on.”

I slowly got to my feet, turning around in a slow circle to take in the endless desert that stretched out all around me. The sky was the same flat gray I remembered from the last dream. And it was warm—I hadn’t felt this warm outside, or in, since my soul was taken. At least, not unless I was holding Bishop’s hand.

“I’m dreaming right now. But how can I dream if I’m dead?” I whipped back around toward him. He looked different from the last time I saw him. Cleaner. Better groomed. His dark beard was trimmed short, not long and scraggly. Now I realized he was at least ten years younger than I always thought he was. If he was even thirty I’d be surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“In your after-death dream?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “I guess you wanted me here.”

I studied him, trying to figure out what didn’t seem right. Then it clicked. “Wait. You sound totally sane.”

“I am sane here.” He glanced around. “Other places, not so much.”

I looked down at the table he sat at to see that there was a game of chess set up. “I’ve dreamed about chess before.”

“You were playing it?”

“Yes, I mean, I think so. But I don’t know how to play chess. Checkers, now we’re talking. But chess is complicated.”

“You’re right. It’s very complicated.” He waved a hand. “It’s your move, by the way. I’ve been waiting a very long time for you to get here.”

I sat down across from him and looked at the board before meeting his brown eyes. “How can I play if I don’t know how?”

“You know more than you think you do.”

“You said that to me before, but seriously, I don’t know.”

“Then I’ll teach you. Be happy to. Only...” He glanced around. “We don’t have much time left.”

“I’m dead.” I said it flatly, shocked that the idea of it didn’t trouble me as much as I thought it might. Just like before, I still felt numb. “And I’m dreaming.”

“You are.”

Maybe it was because I felt better here. More whole. There was no hunger, no cold. But still, there was something missing. Something that felt empty in my chest.

Bishop. My hands began to tremble and I pressed them tightly together. “I can’t stay here.”

“First, make your move.” He nodded at the board.

One piece glowed with a soft blue light, drawing my attention. “What’s that piece called?”

Seth looked down the board. “That’s the bishop.”

My breath caught. When I put my hand on it I felt it hum pleasantly against my skin. The piece knew where it wanted to go; all it needed was my help to get there.

I pushed it forward two spaces. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Seth smiled, leaned forward, and made his move, knocking over my bishop with his piece. He snatched it off the board and placed it to the side. “Check.”

“Check? What does that mean?”

His lips curved. “It means I’m winning.”

I blinked at him. “Why am I dreaming about you, Seth? Why now?”

“Time for you to go.” He stood up from the table and the chess board shimmered away so there was nothing left on the table. A moment later, there was no table, either.