The *** House

The study was dark, and flickering candles cast long shadows across the walls. Billie Dean had thought that it would add a touch of dramatic flair if we performed the ritual in the room that felt most like home to me. The thing was, it didn't feel like home right then. The cameras and the living, breathing people made it feel foreign.

"Can you give us a sign that you're here?" Billie Dean asked the crowded room.

I found myself rolling my eyes. I knew that she had to make it interesting for her viewers, but I really couldn't have cared less about good showmanship. I just wanted it to be done. Regardless, I bent over, tucked my hair behind my ears, and blew out a cluster of white pillar candles.

"If you want my help to cross over, give us another sign."

I knocked over some of the freshly extinguished candles. They collided with the hardwood floor with loud thunks. One of them, purely by chance, rolled on its side until it came to rest gently against Billie Dean's foot. She adjusted her position in the armchair so that she could properly retrieve the candle.

"I guess that's a yes," she smiled. "Ainsley, I need something personal of yours. Something that belonged to you before you died." We had discussed earlier that any use of my name would be removed in the editing stages. For now, it was nice that she was addressing me properly. It added some strange aspect of friendship and trust to our relationship.

I felt my hand reach up to my neck instinctively. Billie Dean gave me a curious look.

"What is it?" she asked.

"My necklace," I said. "It was on me when I died."

"And where is it now?"

I got caught up in my own memory for a moment as I recalled Tate handing the glittering chain to my brother on Halloween. "My mother has it. We gave it back to her."

She looked a little unsure about my statement, but she continued. "Do you have anything else? Maybe some clothing?"

I shook my head. "No, I just wear things that I found in the attic or basement. My clothes from that night were kind of destroyed, and people tend to leave a lot of things behind when they leave this house. Either because they're dead or because they are too scared to come back."

"Do you have anything at all that was your own?"

I pulled a silver-plated hoop from my ear. "My earrings. That's all I have."

"They'll work," her smile returned. "Can you tell me exactly why you want to leave?"

I settled onto the sofa where I had slept since that very first night. "I have a problem. I think I have a split personality, and I find myself attacking people. I don't want to be that person anymore."

For the first time, legitimate surprise radiated from Billie Dean's thin face. "That's why you want to leave? You think you're a bad person?"

I nodded. "I know I am. I tried to kill Hayden. I can't live here knowing that I can lose my head at any time. Why do you seem so shocked?"

She looked torn, as if she were afraid to divulge some massive secret. "As a medium, I can read the true selves of the spirits in this house. For example, there is a darkness in Tate that almost overwhelms me when we're in the same room. But I've never felt that with you. I see light in you. There is nothing but a good person inside. I mean, there's the occasional shadow, but that happens with everyone. Even an infant's aura isn't completely pure. I can't feel the dark side of you, Ainsley. It's very well hidden, if it exists at all."

"I've woken up with blood on my hands. Literally. I assure you, it exists," I argued.

"Then it is only the tiniest part of you. I just think that you should be aware of that before we continue. We have ten minutes. Are you ready?"

I looked around the study. In this light, it no longer looked like the place I called home. But somewhere inside, I knew that I didn't want to let go. The image of Tate giving my brother my necklace was still burning in the forefront of my mind. Suddenly, he was all I could think of. The way that he had held me and kept me safe when I'd found out that I'd tried to kill Hayden. The way that he had been the first one to speak to me. They way that he knew exactly when to give me breathing room. The first time he'd kissed me. The first time he'd smiled at me so honestly that it reached his black eyes. The time that he told me that he'd missed me when I took him back. The way that he had defended me so vigorously on the beach. Every sweet moment that he'd given me was cascading across my mind's eye in a tumultuous and heartbreaking moment.

"But the fact that we're here," he looked over at me sharply, "should be a blessing as much as it is a curse. We have the chance to live forever."

"It's a blessing and a curse," I said, barely managing to speak the words.

"Ainsley?" Billie Dean looked uncertain, and I was suddenly pulled back into the present.

I looked up at her, shaking my head by the smallest amount. "It's a blessing and a curse," I repeated dumbly. "He's my blessing, and I'm my own curse. I can't have one without the other. And it's worth it."

"What are you talking about?"

I stood up abruptly. "I'm sorry. I'm too young to die. I mean, I was too young the first time, but I'm really not ready to go yet. I can't leave him all alone."

Billie Dean looked dismayed. "I should have known. You don't really know what you want yet." She held out my earring. "You might as well take this back. Go on, I'll figure out something else to do for my pilot."

I accepted the piece of jewelry, tears swelling up in my eyes in gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

I ran from the room and bolted straight up to the attic. Beau peeked out from his corner. When he saw me, he rolled out his red ball and smiled. I grinned back as I returned the toy.

"Tate?" I asked into the empty space. "Are you up here?"

There was only silence. Beau was watching me curiously. I felt suddenly nervous. What if Tate was hiding from me? I hadn't exactly left on good terms. I would understand if he had already washed his hands of me. Beau snatched up the ball from the floor and retreated into the shadows. I watched him disappear, feeling more alone than I ever had in this house. Suddenly, I remembered Tate warning me that the house often left him feeling lonely. I had sentenced him to spend eternity with this empty feeling. I would be angry if he had done the same to me, so I knew that he was pissed off.

"What are you doing up here?" The voice came from behind me. I spun around and faced Tate. He didn't look happy to see me. His expression was hard and rigid. I wasn't welcome. "You're missing your chance."

"I couldn't do it," I explained, giving him a pleading stare. "I couldn't leave you. You're the only positive thing in my life, and you were so ready to look past all the bad things. And even if there is something worthwhile on the other side, I'm just not ready to find it. Life isn't easy, and the afterlife is no different. I can't have something beautiful without tolerating something horrible. So I can handle my blackouts if it means that I get to have you."

His features didn't shift. His body was imposing and strong in front of me. "You kind of burned that bridge, didn't you?"

I felt small under his glowering eyes. "I deserve that," I said.

"What makes you think that I'm willing to forget about the last week just because you came back?" he demanded, his tone becoming fierce. "You have spent months searching for a way out of here; away from me. How am I supposed to know that you're not going to continue that as soon as Billie Dean leaves? How can I trust you?"

"I forgave you for everything. You can't do the same?"

"It's not something that you can just expect! Just because you ignore the person that I used to be, it doesn't mean that I can do the same for the person that you still are. You're hurting people in the one way that we can't instantly fix."

I wrapped my arms around myself, as if it would stop me from physically falling apart. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that," he snapped. "But when it comes to action, you run away. You ran away from me, and then you ran away from what you thought you wanted. I don't know what to believe with you anymore."

"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm still here, Tate. I'll be here forever now. Just like you. Maybe I'm just a coward, like you said. But I have forever to prove to you that I stayed for you. If you need some time to evaluate everything, I understand."

My words seemed to leave him even more irritated. He huffed out a breath. "Quit trying to calm me down. Don't you ever just want to be mad?"

I frowned. "Be mad, then. I kind of have it coming, wouldn't you say? I'll go away for awhile, I'll give you space. Take your time. We'll talk when you're ready."

"God damn it!" Tate yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration. He stepped forward, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pressed his lips firmly against mine. I reciprocated the gesture, feeling whole for the first time in months. This time I had made the choice. I wasn't being forced to he here, I wanted to be. That was the defining factor that changed the sinister vibe that this house gave off. It was no longer a prison, it was home. Tate was home to me now.

He released me, and both of us seemed confused more than anything else. I tried to guage his unexpected reaction. One second he was furious, the next he was kissing me. I had known that Tate was unusual, but this was kind of ridiculous. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking or where his head was at.

"What was that about?"

"I still love you. That isn't about to change just because of this. I am glad that you stayed. But I can't just act like this didn't happen."

Tate sounded so much like me right then that I had to smile. "I couldn't ask anything more from you. Do you want me to leave? I should tell Violet that I'm staying, I suppose."

His hands stayed firmly on my shoulders. "You should. But not yet. I feel like I've gone without you for far too long."

"I would say that we should just go to bed, but Billie Dean is still down there. I assume she's trying to salvage what's left of her TV show. I kind of ruined all her plans."

"There's a bed up here," he released me and gestured to the cot in the corner.

"That's Beau's bed," I argued. "I don't want to take anything away from him."

Tate surveyed me for a long moment, then shook his head. "I don't understand how you are so ridiculously nice. Why couldn't you have been like this earlier today?"

"You asked me to stay," I replied, though I knew that my answer made no sense to him. "It felt like a trick. You had the entire week to ask me to stay, and you waited until the last possible minute. It was like you were trying to prove that I couldn't stay away, or that you could change my mind at any time. That's exactly what happened, but that's not the point."

He looked more puzzled than ever. "Did you stop to think that maybe I wanted you to have what you wanted? I really tried to let you go, but I couldn't. I had to give it one last shot. There were no tricks involved at all."

"I know that. And deep down, I knew it at the time. But I was so scared, and I couldn't really focus on it at the time. I never had the intention of hurting you, and knowing that you were in just as much pain as I was... that was just too much to take."

"So that's why you stayed?"

I shrugged. "Remember when I said that I need you more than you need me? That hasn't changed. I still need you."

"I didn't tell you this before, but you're wrong about that. I need you too. More than you know. At the end of the day, you're all I have," he smiled. It was a warm smile; the kind that he rarely gave out aside from when he was talking to me.

I returned the gesture, feeling a warmth spread through me at the sight of his expression. "So, are we going to tiptoe around this whole escapade forever, or are you going to accept the fact that you're stuck with me?"

He shrugged lightly, putting an arm securely around my shoulders. "You've spent almost half of your time here trying to devise a way to leave. It's going to take a little time to get used to. But we'll get there."

"That's fair. I can live with that."

"I'm sorry I waited so long to ask you to stay," he said.

"Don't be. I'm glad you asked. I'm actually happy that I didn't go through with it."

A horrifying, anguished cry echoed throughout the house. Tate and I both jumped in alarm, then bolted for the stairs to see what had happened. The howling continued as we raced down to the main floor and into the study. Moira was sprawled across the floor at Billie Dean's feet, sobbing uncontrollably. To see the old woman in such a frantic state chilled me to the core. Tate's arm returned to my shoulders, and he pulled me close.

"What happened?" I asked, glaring accusingly at Billie Dean.

The medium looked unhappy, and almost ashamed. "I underestimated this house," she said, gazing woefully down at the maid. "Moira volunteered to take your place when you ran off, but the ritual didn't work."

The chill in my chest hardened to a block of solid ice as I understood what she was saying. Even if I'd gone through with it, I would still be here. How could I have ever gone crawling back to Tate if we'd both known that I hadn't chosen to do so? I shuddered and pressed myself even closer to him.

It was a good thing that I had finally accepted my fate in this house, because it was never going to let me go.