I missed you," I said.
"Missed you, too. Welcome home."
We moved in to hug each other, then I sprang back seconds before getting smushed against his still-sopping-wet sweater.
"Ben!"
"Ooh, poor form on my part," he said, and peeled off his sodden sweater. He wore a thin white T-shirt underneath. The coffee spill had left the shirt a bit damp, and it clung slightly to his chest in a way that made me stare and caught my voice in my throat.
That was ridiculous, of course. Ben and I had the kind of friendship where we talked about things like that. I could tease him about his suddenly well-toned body; he'd make some kind of self-effacing joke and parry by bringing up something absurd he'd seen about me in a magazine...
But I didn't say a word. And I didn't stop looking. Clearly I was in a sleep-deprived haze.
"You could still try the coffee," he offered. "There's plenty in the sweater. I can just wring it right into the mug."
I shook off my reverie. "Tempting offer, but no thanks. You really need to give up on the coffee thing. I'm never converting from tea."
"We'll see," he said. He set the wet sweater on the hand towel, then turned to me with his arms out. "Better?"
"Much," I said, and closed the distance between us so he could fold me into his arms.
"Hel-lo! Please tell me I'm interrupting something!" It was Rayna, and at the sound of her voice, Ben and I sheepishly pulled apart. Again, ridiculous. Hugging was nothing unusual for us. Granted, Ben was usually wearing more than a thin T-shirt at the time...
"Why is it I'm hearing no one when they come into the house?"
"Big house," Rayna said. "Come on-my mom's throwing us a welcome home party at our place."
"Tonight?" I asked.
"Immediately. Unless I can tell my mom there are...extenuating circumstances."
She said the last part with a leer that lingered on Ben's chest and made him blush. Rayna's entire family had spent the last two years dying for Ben and me to get together. They seemed to be under the impression that my parents hired him to be my boyfriend, not my international adviser.
Dalt's in sixty?" I asked.
"Done," he said. "You want to bring the board?"
"Depends...you okay with humiliation?"
"Bring the board."
"See you soon."
I hung up and ran to the shower. Thirty minutes later I was out the door, cribbage board in hand."
"Bye, Piri!" I shouted. I was already in my car and pulling away when I saw Piri appear on the threshold, tossing a cup of water out after me, "so luck would flow like water in my direction."
Madness.
Okay. So all Clea and I need is for you to tell us what you know about the Elixir, and we can go get it. You won't eve have to see us again."
"Not possible," Sage said. "I said it before; you've been tied to me. That means you're in danger. I don't think you get that."
"Oh, I get it," Ben said, "I just think Clea and I will be safer on our own. And with all due respect, I don't entirely trust you. And I don't think Clea does either."
"Respect duly noted," Sage said wryly, "but I'm not telling you what I know about the Elixir, so you kind of need me."
The two guys stared each other down.
That's it," Rayna said, pushing my laptop closed. It was about a week before the Rio trip, and she and I were at the kitchen island working on term papers.
"Rayna!" I complained. "I could've lost my work!"
"Please. You hadn't typed anything in the last hour. Consider this a one-person intervention: Who is he and why haven't you told me about him?"
I felt the blush rise into my face. "Who is who?"
"Seriously? You're going to play that with me? Clea, it's obvious. You're practically delirious; you've been a million miles away since we got back from-" She gasped and smacked my arm. "Oh! My! God! It's Ben, isn't it? I did interrupt something the night we got back from Paris. It's Ben, and you haven't told me because you didn't want me to say I told you so, when I so told you so! You loser!" She hurled the epithet with a grin of such complete delight that I almost hated to tell her the truth.
"No! Rayna, it's not Ben. It's not anyone."
"Liar."
"Okay, it's not anyone real, I said, grimacing.
It has to be the right person."
"And Make-Believe-Fantasy-Guy is the right person?"
Yes! He is! I wanted to shout...but that would have sounded crazy. Still, it felt completely, 100 percent true. The man in my dreams was the right person. He proved it to me every night.
Of course he did. No matter how real the dreams felt, they were dreams, which meant the man's personality was a figment of my imagination. Of course he knew me better than anyone else! Why wouldn't I make him perfect for me? The iris tattoo was an especially nice touch, tying him in with my father and how horribly I missed him. Freud would have had a field day with it.
So when the pod people come and steal your body, does it hurt, or are you pretty much unconscious for the whole thing?"
"Huh?" I asked.
"I just double-skunked you three times in a row. What's going on with you?"
He lifted an eyebrow. He was in detective mode now, and there was no escaping it. I imagined spilling to him the way I had to Rayna, and almost choked. I'd rather die than describe my fantasies to Ben. I'd never hear the end of it.
Still, I needed to tell him something, and he knew me too well to buy a complete lie.
I thought about the pictures. I could tell him about the pictures without telling him about the dreams. Ben was like Dad-he ate up anything that smacked of the inexplicable. He'd probably love the picture of the man at St. Vitus's Cathedral, standing in midair on nothing.
"You might think I'm crazy...," I started.
"I already think that, so..."
I took a deep breath, then started to explain. I told him about every picture, including the ones that were completely impossible and seemed to prove the man wasn't actually in the shots when I snapped them. By the time I finished, Ben's brow was furrowed, and the concern in his eyes had deepened into alarm.
He really did think I was crazy. I shouldn't have told him.
"Can you stop looking at me like that? I know there's a logical explanation," I assured him. "I just don't know what it is yet, but-"
"You need to show me those pictures," Ben said gravely.
"Um...okay," I said, though I suddenly wasn't positive I wanted to share them. "After Rio I figured I'd open them up again and try to-"
"Now, Clea," he said. "I really need to see them now.
Incubus?" I asked Ben.
He nodded grimly. "A lost soul-usually male-turned evil spirit that attaches itself to someone in order to lead her astray. The spirit is kind of...sexual in nature." He reddened and gestured to the picture. "Like it shows there. The incubus comes to a woman and has...you know...relations with her in her sleep."
My jaw dropped, and I was glad Ben's eyes were averted as an exhilarating stream of images from my dreams flashed at super-speed through my head. I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until it came out in a whoosh that I tried to pass off as a laugh.
"It's not funny, Clea."
"It's insane. Even if there were such a thing as an evil spirit, wouldn't it be obvious if I'd spent my whole life stalked by one? Wouldn't terrible things have happened to me?"
"Maybe they will. Maybe he's just been waiting for the right time. Maybe that time is now, and that's why all of a sudden you see him everywhere."
"So he's a patient evil spirit," I said sarcastically.
"Know what else comes from the same Latin root as 'incubus'?" Ben retorted. "Incubate. I don't think it's coincidence. I think this...thing has been incubating, and now it's ready to come out and do whatever it's going to do. And I think your dad would agree with me.
Not so much for Carnival?" I asked Ben playfully, hooking my arm through his.
"Not so much for driving through Carnival," Ben amended.
"Too tough for you?"
"I travel with you. Nothing's too tough for me."
"Not even that guy?"
He turned to look, and the minute his attention was diverted, I raced to the elevators.
"Hey!" Ben cried, and ran after me, but I dove and pressed the button first.
"Yes!" I cheered.
"Loser," Ben said.
"Actually, I just won. Let's go up and change, then we can hit the Samba Parade."
"Change? But I like you just the way you are."
"You are such a dork."
Ben nodded, accepting the title with grace as the elevator arrived.
I had to get back to dealing with facts. One fact was that something bizarre was going on, but I'd be far more likely to find an explanation in a modern book on string theory than in an ancient tome on the spirit world.
Hilary DuffHey...you okay?"
I recognized the voice-how had my dreams known his voice?-but when he crouched down next to me, I skittered away.
"Don't touch me!" I snapped.
He held up his hands to show he was harmless. "Okay, okay," he said with a smirk. "You were the one chasing me."
I glared at him. It was an impressive show of restraint on my part, when the truth was that having him physically in front of me was wreaking havoc on my body and my brain. My heart was pounding fast, and my mind played a loop of every moment we'd shared in my dreams.
I forced myself to remember he was a stranger. Quite possibly a dangerous stranger. I needed answers from him, but I also needed to stay strong.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were hurt."
"I am hurt. I twisted my ankle."
"Maybe you shouldn't be chasing strange men through the woods, then."
"Maybe you shouldn't pretend you don't know who I am."
His eyes widened in shock for a moment. "You reme-"
Then he twitched his head briefly to the side, as if flicking away an unwanted thought, and his face relaxed. Only the clenched muscle in his jaw gave away any tension.
"You must be mistaken. I don't think we've ever met."
"Really? You look at most girls like you were caught with your hand in their purse?"
"I don't know what you're talking-"
"And then you ran away. Full speed, even though you knew I was trying to catch up with you. That's not normal. That's not how you act with a stranger."
The man pursed his lips and pressed his right fist to his temple, a gesture I'd seen him make so many times I almost lost my grip. Somehow I managed to stay steely eyed.
He lowered his fist and smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes.
"I reacted poorly," he said stiffly. "I don't have a good answer for why, other than I like to keep to myself. I only came back because you were hurt, and it seemed irresponsible to leave a girl all alone in the middle of nowhere. But if you'd rather I left..."
"No.
"Fine. Let's take a look at your ankle.
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