Men of London 02 - Sight and Sinners (22 page)

“Hello, Taylor,” Jude said as he stepped forward. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How…how is this possible?” Taylor croaked, his voice dry with both awe and fear. “Where are we?”

Jude’s slim shoulders shrugged. “We call it Earthlight. It’s a kind of in-between place, it’s the only way I can describe it.”

Taylor gazed around him in wonder. “Maybe I should have asked
what
it is?”

Dark grey eyes exactly like Draven’s stared at him. The young man looked to be in his early teens and Taylor knew Jude had been fifteen going on sixteen when he’d had his car accident. He was almost a carbon copy of a young Draven, although much slimmer built.

“It’s just a place people like me come to. People who can’t move on, because something is holding them back. It’s a sort of holding pen, I suppose.” He smiled and Taylor saw Draven in that soft lift of the lips. His eyes strayed toward his brother with a glance of affection. Taylor followed them and saw Draven sitting, eyes closed, a look of defeat on his face, as he talked to someone, probably trying to bring Taylor back. Taylor’s heart clenched at the look of sadness he wore.

“My brother loves me, I know that,” Jude said quietly. “He feels guilty that he was the only one who lived, and he feels he should have been the one to die instead of me and Mum and Dad.” His face was anguished. “He tells me this when he visits and I want to reach out and tell him he’s wrong, he needs to live his life and stop beating himself up over everything. But I can’t.” Taylor heard the desperation in his tone. “You have to help him and me, Taylor. You need to tell him to let me go so both of us can move on.” His eyes observed the machines and the fluids keeping him alive. “I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m dead. He needs to do that now too.”

Taylor shook his head. “It will destroy him,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell him what he should do.”

“No, you can’t,” Jude said. “But
I
can. It’s my life, whatever that may mean,” he snorted grimly, “and I want to leave here and be with my folks. I’ve heard him talk about you, and what you can do and I knew the only way I could get through to him was through you. I’ve waited so long to see you. I tried reaching out to you but it just wasn’t enough. His grief and his guilt blocked me and I wasn’t strong enough to get through to you being so far away.”

His voice dropped. “I’m tired, Taylor,” he whispered. “Tired of being in a halfway house kept alive by machinery. It’s comfortable enough, here, I suppose, and I’m not alone but I miss my parents.” His voice shook. “They’re waiting for me to move on, but I can’t. I love my brother dearly, but he needs to let go of me. Only you can make him see that’s what he has to do.”

Taylor’s eyes were burning, filling with bitter tears. “I don’t think he’ll listen,” he murmured, his throat closing up with the lump in it. “He loves you so much, Jude.”

Jude smiled sadly. “You know there’s that old cheesy saying about if you love someone, let them go? Speak to Draven for me. You’re the only one who can. My brother loves you, you know. He might have a tough time showing you or believing it himself sometimes, but he does. I can hear it in his voice when he says your name.” His eyes glistened with tears.

“Tell him he can take comfort that there is another side to life and one day, he’ll be here with us. It’s not goodbye, just
au revoir
.” He grinned faintly. “If he needs any convincing that you’ve spoken to me and you weren’t hallucinating, tell him this.” He hesitated then spoke softly. “‘Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk.’ It’s a quote made by an author called Susan Scarf Merrell. He enjoyed reading her books and he was really drawn to this quote. He used to say it to me all the time. Remind him I’ll always be there for him. Tell him I love him.” His face softened. “And tell him Pudsey says hello.”

Jude’s voice and figure grew fainter. Taylor blinked past the tears in his eyes, both from the fact Jude was in pain and the fact that he believed Draven loved him, and watched the form shimmer. His head swum, his skin prickled and then as the last vestiges of deep blue and Jude faded away, he closed his eyes and fell into darkness.

Chapter 10

There isn’t really a Hallmark greeting card to advise a current boyfriend that his comatose younger brother has been in contact with your psychic other half and requested that his life support system be switched off.

Taylor wished there was.

It would make talking to Draven
so
much easier. Even as he knew the complete incongruity and craziness of this thought, he was thinking how best to approach the subject with the man who now sat broodingly beside him in the car, hands clenched on the wheel, a look of ferocious calm on his bruised face.

It was Taylor’s fault that his lover looked as damaged as he did. In coming around from his zone-out, Taylor had flailed so wildly that he’d ended up hitting Draven in the face. He now sported a rather nasty-looking bruise under his eye, which no doubt was going to turn black.

Looking at the silent man beside him, then at the dark grey rain outside, Taylor knew that Draven’s current taciturnity had been fear over the fact that once again Taylor had zoned out. The look of helplessness in those slate grey eyes as he’d stared at Taylor doing the crazy chicken dance with thrashing limbs had been sobering.

Afterwards, Draven had made like the proverbial bad-tempered bear and growled that he was “damn sick of all this shit.” He’d said his goodbyes to Jude and stormed off to the car, Taylor stumbling unsteadily behind him. As they drove back toward Draven’s house, thoughts circled in Taylor’s head like hungry sharks all waiting to get a piece of him.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he muttered quietly. “When we get to your place, you should put some ice on that eye. Maybe even some arnica ointment if you have some. If you don’t, I’ll walk down to that corner chemist and get you some. That always helped me, my mum used to swear by it…”

“Taylor, it’s fine.” Draven sounded tired but his earlier ire seemed to have dissipated. “Don’t worry. You couldn’t help yourself.” His one hand left the steering wheel and he gingerly touched the swelling under his eye. “It’s not my first black eye, you know.”

“Yes, but it’s the first one from me,” Taylor grumbled.

Draven snorted softly and Taylor was relieved to see the corners of his mouth lift up. “I hope that isn’t saying there might be more to come?”

Taylor reached over and shoved his arm half-heartedly. “I bloody well hope there aren’t.”

Draven smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He concentrated on driving through the gentle drizzle, squinting slightly. Taylor knew he must have questions.

“Don’t you want to know what happened back there?” he asked softly.

Draven shook his head, lips pressed together. “Not now. I can’t talk about that shit and focus on getting home safely. I hate driving in the rain. So I’d rather you not tell me now. When we get back to my place…” he heaved a deep sigh. “Maybe then.” He glanced at Taylor, almost nervously but said nothing more. Taylor nodded and leaned back against the headrest, shutting his eyes. The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake.

“Tay? We’re home. Come on. It’s pouring fucking cats and dogs now. I need a drink.”

Taylor nodded sleepily and clambered out of the car, following Draven as he dashed for the front door. Once inside, Draven disappeared into the kitchen as Taylor shook the wet from his hair and grimaced.

“Uggh. I wasn’t made for wet weather. I should be somewhere warm and dry, where the sun shines all day and I can work on a tan. This shitty weather is not for me.”

Draven came through bearing two large glasses of red wine. He handed one to Taylor. “You and me both. I’m not crazy about sun-tanning; I burn too easily but you…” He appraised Taylor. “You’re dark enough with that skin tone. Works for me anyway. I like you just the way you are.” He padded through to the lounge in stocking feet and plonked himself down in an easy chair.

Taylor followed, feeling a warmth at Draven’s words. He divested himself of his boots and jacket as he did. “Just the way I am, hey? Perhaps less clothes?” He waggled his eyebrows cheekily, bringing a reluctant grin to Draven’s pale face. The bruise around his eye was beginning to darken and Taylor felt guilty at being the cause.

“That’ll work too. Maybe later. Right now you need to tell me what the hell went down in that hospital room.” Draven’s eyes searched Taylor’s face as he fell, loose limbed, onto the couch, and draped his feet over the end of the arm. He took a slurp of his drink and then placed the glass on the side table. Draven watched him unwaveringly as he sipped his wine.

Taylor cleared his throat. “You need to listen to me, okay? This isn’t going to be easy. Hell, it took me by surprise and I’ve lived with this sort of thing all my life. I need you to be open minded and not fly off at the deep end—”

Draven interrupted him impatiently. “Taylor, just tell me, blabbermouth. I’m sure I can cope with whatever it is. I’m a big boy.”

Despite the confident words, Taylor heard the fear. He tried to inject some levity in the hope it might soothe Draven. “I know that; hell, I’ve had you up my arse, so I’m very personally acquainted with how big you are.”

“Tay,” Draven growled.

Taylor sighed. “Fine. There isn’t an easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it.” He took a deep breath. “I saw Jude. He’s in some in-between place and he really wants to move on, to be with your folks. He told me to ask you to please let him go. He wants you to switch off the life support.”

Draven’s face whitened and the stem of his wineglass shattered in his fingers. The bulb of the glass fell to the floor, causing what looked a pool of blood to land on the pale carpet. Taylor sat up and stared at the fluid dripping from Draven’s fingers.

“Dray, you’re bleeding. Here, let me get a cloth.” He started to rise from the couch but Draven stood up in one cat like movement and pushed him back onto the couch.

“Sit the fuck down.” He prodded Taylor in the chest with one hard finger, and Taylor watched, mesmerised, as small globules of blood landed on his Iron Maiden tee shirt. “What the hell do you mean, you saw Jude? I thought you said you didn’t see dead people?”

Draven’s face was thunderous, his eyes glinting with both suppressed anger and what looked a lot to Taylor like sheer panic. He looked up at Draven, trying to figure out what to say next without causing further injury to what was already a frightened and hurting soul.

“I don’t normally, so I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s because Jude is in this place between living and dead, I don’t know. I’ve never come across this before. But it was him, Draven. I talked to him.”

The prodding stopped and Draven stood back, his body taut. “The fuck you say. My little brother wants me to kill him?”

Taylor held Draven’s gaze. “He’s already dead, Draven,” he said steadily, swallowing the bile in his throat. “The machines keep him alive, nothing else. He’s come to terms with that and wants you to do the same.”

Draven stalked like a caged tiger around the room. He stopped and pointed a finger at Taylor. “He’s all I have left in the world, and you want me to stop what’s keeping him alive?”

Taylor’s heart ached at the words that Jude was all Draven had but he knew the man was shocked. “It’s not what
I
want, Draven. This isn’t about me.”

Draven laughed harshly. “How am I supposed to deal with this? It’s all getting too damn much. Sometimes I wish I’d never met you, that I didn’t know you talk to dead people and tell people things they don’t want to hear.”

Taylor swallowed. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” His throat was dry, his stomach roiling at Draven’s harsh words. “I’m just a messenger, believe me, it’s no fucking fun for me either. I didn’t ask for this gift, I was cursed with it, and sometimes it seems more heartache than it’s worth.”

“I don’t need this shit,” Draven spat. “I don’t need to know my comatose brother is talking to my lover and telling him he needs to die to be happy. I just…”

His voice tailed off and Taylor’s heart ached at the bleak look on Draven’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly as he stood up and moved toward Draven, hoping to touch him, comfort him. “I can only tell you what I see and hear.”

“Well, I didn’t fucking ask for it!” Draven snarled.

Taylor’s temper flared. “I’m sorry that I’m not able to switch it on and off like a fucking light switch, Dray, just to stop you hurting. I’m just passing on a message from a boy that thinks you’re holding onto him for your own needs, not his.”

The words echoed in the air and Taylor wished he hadn’t said them. Draven’s hand rose like a blur toward his face and he closed his eyes, waiting for the slap or the punch that he thought was coming. When nothing happened, he opened his eyes to see Draven staring at him then at his upraised hand with haunted eyes. The desolation on his face wrenched at Taylor’s chest.

“I was going to hit you,” Draven whispered, his voice agonised. “Christ, I was going to bloody slap you.”

“But you didn’t,” Taylor said, his voice shaking. “You stopped. So it doesn’t count.”

Draven’s face was bleak. “It counts to me. Intent is as good as doing it.”