Kiss of the Necromancer (Memento Mori 1)

He flinched, smiled sheepishly, and gestured a hand vaguely in the air. “Well, you see, I thought it best if you, well—” Clearly giving up the ghost, he sighed. “Yes. Fine. That part was a white lie. I didn’t want you to think we were ganging up on you. He was deeply concerned when you were late for dinner.”

Her only constant state of being—persistent self-loathing—rose in her anew. “I hate being like this.”

“And it’s in your power to change it. Your dissociative disorder is the result of a traumatic event, not schizophrenia or psychosis. But these things take time. You need to unravel this mystery slowly in order not to cause yourself undue shock.”

“I guess.”

“But you are not alone. You have Harry. You have me. If you need my help—if you need someone to speak to—you have my cellphone number. Anytime, day or night, you know that.”

“I know.”

“You won’t use it, though, will you, princess?” He smirked at her.

“Nope.”

He laughed and put his hand to his chest. “Ouch.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not personal. I just don’t like being helpless.”

“You aren’t. Harry told me how you two met.”

Her face went hot again. “Oh. I. Well, you see, that guy was—”

Laughing again, he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not scolding you. I’m happy you defended yourself. You had every right to knock that man’s brain around in his head like a pinball machine. Maybe it did him some good.”

“I guess.”

“You do not strike me as a helpless woman. You’re no princess in a tower, waiting to be saved.” His hand slid off her shoulder. She was almost sad it was gone. No. No, no, no. It’s bad enough you’ve shoved him into your nightmares as a monster. It’s one thing to make him evil in your head. It’s another thing to be attracted to him. He’s your goddamn doctor, for fuck’s sake.

She shrugged. She didn’t know what to say.

“I think tonight you should take your medication and get some sleep. I know you’re eager to unravel your mystery, but I think you need to rest. You’ll wear yourself out if you aren’t careful.”

They came to a stop in front of her door. She glanced at it, with its disgusting, dirty safety glass with embedded wire, and couldn’t help but feel ashamed for it. She knew she had no reason to be embarrassed about how she lived—it wasn’t her fault, like everybody kept telling her—but it was still a gross building.

“Don’t worry.” Gideon smiled again, as if reading her thoughts. No, he probably just read her expression. She knew she wore her emotions on her sleeve. His smile was both cocky and charismatic, but warm and sincere at the same time. She didn’t know how he managed it. “I understand.”

“You could come do your home visit now if you wanted. I know it’s late. It’ll save you the trip on Friday.”

He raised his eyebrows, and his smile turned into a cheeky smirk. His voice was once more as smooth as velvet. “My dear Maggie, are you inviting me upstairs?”

Cheeks exploding in heat, she stammered. “No! I mean—but—you said—I—”

He roared in laughter and placed his hand on her shoulder again. “I’m merely giving you a hard time. You get flustered so easily.”

She wasn’t sure if psychiatrists and caseworkers were supposed to be so touchy. She probably figured they weren’t. But she also discovered she…didn’t really mind. It felt nice. It was comforting. She felt so detached from the world—no friends besides Harry, no job, no memories, nothing to her name—that such a simple gesture reminded her that she was real. She wasn’t a ghost of a person like she sometimes worried she might be.

“I’ll pass, if that’s quite all right with you. I appreciate the offer to save me a trip, but I have a great deal of paperwork to do tonight. I also shouldn’t write down on a form that I was in your apartment for a visit at ten o’clock. I feel like my superiors would have a problem with that.”

I’m sure you’re not the first caseworker to get it on with a patient. She almost swore out loud at the errant thought. Damn it, no, no, no! I’m just lonely. I’m painfully lonely. That’s all. It isn’t him. It isn’t about him. He’s just there. I’m clinging to him like a safety blanket. “Probably a good idea. Can’t have them thinking anything shady is going on.”

“Precisely.” He took a step back. “I will see you for our session Thursday at one, yes?”

“I’ll be there, Dr. Raithe.”

“Gideon. Please.” He eyed her scrupulously. “And you will take your medication tonight and get some sleep?”

She smiled. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”