Dearly Departed

"Bradley, how much do you know about myth and legend."

"A bit I guess. I read..."

"Have you ever heard about an immortal female who lives on the life energy of her lovers?"

I blinked. "What? You mean a succuby?"

"Succubus, my darling. One of the Underworld God's minions." Now she stands before me, her sadness so deep, so painful that tears spill like tiny waterfalls down both cheeks.

"The other day. When Cynthia came to you in your dream. When she became a mouldering corpse in your arms. That was me Bradley! Me! Don't you see? I was trying to break your love for her, but I couldn't."

I was numb now, to the point where this new revelation did nothing to me except assure me that my darling Cynthia would never harm me.

"And the kiss? What were you trying to say when you smothered me with your kiss?"

She hesitated then, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

"In my spirit form I have less control. I am so sorry Bradley, but for a moment I could not resist drinking from your soul."

"No Samantha. That is scary stories for campfires."

She puts a finger to her lips and sits opposite me on the chair.

"Human mythology often has its roots in fact. I have lived for over a thousand years but it has been a selfish life without warmth, without love. Now I have found you." Again she turns her head away and sighs. "You were going to be just another of a long line of lovers who would sustain my life. My youth." She faces me again, dabbing with the back of one fist at her streaming eyes. Through the tears her smile arises like sunlight after a storm. "But my dearest, dearest darling, you awoke in my heart the one thing that I lacked. In your pure and unfailing love for Cynthia, you awoke love within me." Both heels of her hands rub vigorously at her eyes. She drops them to her lap while looking at me, her face smudged with tears.

"Cynthia told you to tell me something, Bradley. Will you tell me?"

"How do you know?"

"Because I am in touch with her...with her soul. I have been for two days, since your 'dream' where I was her."

No. I look away. Should I trust her? I could only remember vaguely what a succubus was supposed to do, but I remember they were supposed to be evil creatures. However Samantha didn't seem to be evil. I fix her with my gaze.

"She asked me to tell you where she sleeps."

Samantha nods and her shoulders slump. A tiny sniff escapes her as she adjusts herself in the chair.

"Bradley, I must tell you something and you must promise me you will let me do it my way."

I shrug. My emotions are so confused at this point that I can barely think straight.

"You must take me to Cynthia's crypt. I know of a way to return her to you, alive and unharmed."

"Alive!" Now I stand up, so violently that the table rocks from the blow it receives from one knee. Both wineglasses topple over, spilling their contents onto the floor.

"I have been working on it these past days, ever since my bid to turn you from her failed. The way is prepared but I need to be in contact with her earthly body." Her voice drops to a near whisper as she sums up her total plan.

"Since I can never have you, I shall give her back to you."

"What are you going to do?"

"There is a way I can bring her back. I must trade places with her. My body for hers. My soul for hers."

That shocks me. "What are you saying? You would die to bring her back?"

"I am dead anyway. My newfound love for you will see to that. No more can I sustain myself on the souls of men, and my master will soon call me home." Her face assumes a matter-of-fact expression and she stands up, letting go of my hand in the process. "Now you must take me. Get me there before midnight for that is when my power is at its peak."

I still remember the burial. That day was, ironically, a beautiful spring day with warm sunshine and birds singing cheerily in the sky. Not like that miserable day upon which she died. Her family stood to one side. They hadn't spoken to me since the phone call that had summoned them to the mortuary to view the shattered wreck that had been their daughter. I knew that I deserved their anger, their hurt, but non-the-less it still twisted me to be so apart from my beloved's kin. It was the crypt that stood out starkly in my mind. A huge building, all dark marble and gilt edging with huge brass locks and bolts. Inside the air was dank and cold. The walls were recessed into orderly rows of niches. Many of them held coffins or sarcophagus hidden behind marble partitions each neatly labelled with brass plaques. A short distance along the hall was an open niche, empty now but soon to be occupied by my beloved. We stood silently as the wooden coffin was placed onto the marble slab protruding from the niche and I cried shamelessly as it retracted into the hollow, drawing my darling into her final resting place. The panel came down, hiding her from sight and the brass plaque glinted wickedly in the light of the candles being held by the mourners.

Cynthia Millwood

1959 - 1994

KILLED BY BRADLEY JAMES

HOW DO YOU FEEL BRADLEY?

…YOU MURDERER!

"No!" I cry. Some near me look at me with sympathy as my grief stricken face shakes from side to side. My eyes focus again on the plate and it reverts to:

Cynthia Millwood

1959 - 1994

Rest in Peace

It gives me a chilly feeling coming back here after all this time. Samantha sits quietly beside me her eyes exploring the darkened countryside beyond the window of the car. She has not said a word since we left her unit and she has not touched me in any way. When we arrive the iron gates are ajar and, by carefully nudging them on the bumper bar, I manage to open them without having to get out. I drive along the short bitumen path, between graves and monuments, until I reach the mausoleum where Cynthia lies in eternal slumber. Stopping directly in front of the large doors I switch off the motor and sit staring at the building.

Above us a full moon shines down and all around, the crickets chirrup loudly. Nearby are the trees I have seen...in my dream? But now they hold a spray of new leaves that rustle ever so slightly in the light evening breeze.

"It will be locked." I whisper, not looking at Samantha.

"Then I will open it." She replies opening the car door. "Come on."

I follow her to the doors. She stands before them, breathing deeply. Her eyes are shut and she is muttering. Reaching out one lovely hand she thrusts at the portals. They respond by opening silently, inwards, allowing egress to the vault. As we step over the threshold a soft light surrounds us. Although I see no source, the light is bright enough for us to see our way clearly. Striding before me, Samantha makes her way purposefully into the tomb, glancing left and right at nameplates as she goes.

"Which one Bradley? Where does she sleep?"

"Samantha. This is insane. I cannot let..."

She whirls. Her eyes are blazing now, no longer sky or summer blue. Now they rage with inner fires, though her expression remains fixed.

"Do not babble, mortal. My powers, my decisions, are mine alone. Now where does she lie!"

She frightens me but her power reaches out and grasps my soul. I move past her, avoiding touching her, and stand before the niche in which Cynthia lies waiting. I point at the partition. Samantha also points at it and a glow emanates from her eyes, travelling along the outstretched level of her arm and, with a forlorn groaning noise, the partition slides away. The slab slides out revealing the coffin. Samantha lowers her arm and the crypt grows lighter as the glow around us brightens. Now she looks at me and her eyes are their beautiful summer blue again with just a hint of a tear in them.

"You must stand here. Do not move. Do not approach. Do not do anything until it's over. Do you understand?"

I nod and she smiles, reaching out with one hand, caressing my face gently in her palm.

"My beloved. I cannot be yours so instead I present her to you as my gift. Give her the love she deserves and remember me sometimes." Then she moves towards the slab.

The coffin lid begins to open as Samantha climbs up. She approaches it and grasps the sides, pausing to look at me one last time. Within the cask I can just glimpse my beloved's form dressed in the white gown I had seen her in, in my dream. I can't see her face, but I can see her dark hair.

"Goodbye, my darling." Samantha says as she lowers herself into the coffin, onto Cynthia's body. A brief blaze of blue light flashes from the open casket, followed by a low moan. There is movement as a hand reaches up and grasps the edge. Out of the coffin arises the head and shoulders of one I know so well. Her raven black hair glistens with health, her dark eyes blinking as if ridding themselves of sleep. She is unmarked as she rises out of the coffin to stand on the protruding slab. Behind her the coffin lid begins to close, but I catch a glimpse of golden hair, just like sunlight, before it shuts with a hollow thump. She steps from the slab as the niche closes up behind her, sealing up the coffin forever. Upon the partition the brass plaque is now blank.

"Bradley?" Her voice is weak, confused. "Where are we?"

I do not reply but take her in my arms and kiss her long and deep as the light around us fades into darkness.

When I awake and look at Cynthia's sleeping form beside me I have a horrible feeling that something is urgent. We are still naked from our intense lovemaking and outside the rain is drumming against our cabin window. I look at the time and see it is after three. I have to be back in the city by morning. Gently I shake Cynthia and my heart melts at her smile as she opens those dark, beautiful eyes. She stretches her naked form, then bends forward and kisses me tenderly on the lips.

"Love you, my darling." She murmurs.

I pat her behind. "I love you too, my goddess, but we must pack quickly. I must be back at work tomorrow."

She rolls onto her stomach and watches me as I head for the shower. As the hot water washes over me I can not help thinking what a crazy dream I'd had. Cynthia dead? It is unthinkable...and that succoobi? succubri? Whatever it was. Sacrificing her life to give Cynthia back to me? Weird. I shake my head, letting the warmth of the shower soak away my thoughts.

We are driving through heavy rain. Cynthia sits beside me with the radio on low, listening to her favourite rock 'n'roll station as I peer through the water-distorted windshield at the wet bitumen ahead. The white lines flicker out of the gathering gloom and disappear to my right. I decide it is time to switch on the headlights. As I reach for the switch I frown slightly as a flash of deja vu overcomes me. I recognise this piece of road. A mental picture comes to me then. A scream, the world turning topsy-turvy, Cynthia's face covered in blood, the light dying in her eyes. My anguish as I strain to remove the car from her broken body. Shakily I relax my foot on the accelerator and watch the speedometer drop by twenty kilometres per hour. My headlights come on as I operate the switch and twin beams of light pierce the gloom.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" Cynthia asks, eyes showing concern at my sudden paleness.

"Nothing, love. Something walked on my grave." I reply and, as I do, my headlight beams pick up a lonely figure standing at the side of the road. I begin to slow down and see it is a woman standing in the rain. She has blond hair that, even in this deluge, shines like spun gold. Her summer blue eyes sparkle with happiness as her gaze meets mine and her lips move. The words are easy to read.

"Goodbye, my darling. I love you."

Then her pretty mouth curves into a huge smile. She waves at me as we go past and I glance in the mirror as I pull over onto the shoulder, trying to see her. She has disappeared.

"Who was that?" Cynthia asks, putting her arm around me, turning her head to look behind the car.

"Remember me sometimes, my love" a whisper echoes in my mind.

I smile as I feel a tear forming in my eye.

"Probably an angel." I reply as I drive back onto the highway and accelerate towards the city.

THE END