The Haunting - Chapter 9
Winter 1891
Richard Castle was in love with a ghost, there was no denying it. He had never met her, never really seen her, yet he knew without a doubt in his heart and mind that he was in love with Katherine Houghton Beckett. She had been with him, in this house, for over a year—his one constant companion. They had conversed, communicating across the veil, corresponding on many subjects. She understood him better than any other woman ever had. But she was dead, nothing but a spirit that haunted the rooms of the brownstone that had formerly been her home. Yet that did not change the fact that he loved her, with every fiber of his being.
"I love you, Katherine," he repeated again to the empty room, a happy smile breaking across his face. Now that he had said it, he could not contain himself. He loved her, and it filled his heart with joy, even if the circumstances were bizarre and utterly insane.
The room suddenly became deathly cold. He shivered, but refrained from curling in on himself for warmth. An unnatural breeze blew through the room, whipping around him like a hurricane. The candlelight flickered, but did not go out. His heart pounded beneath his chest, but he was not afraid. He could never be afraid of Katherine or the strange, unearthly powers she could manifest in her attempts to reach out into his plane of existence. It was like she was trying to break free.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.
Castle stood still, frozen, waiting to see if she would respond. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he held his breath, hoping and praying he had not just made a complete fool of himself. He did not have to wait long. It was gradual, at first, but the room temperature decreased until he was chilled to the bone. He knew from experience that the chilly air was a sign of her presence.
And then it happened. He felt her phantom touch, the ghosting of finger tips along his jaw, and then, just as he opened his mouth to repeat his declaration for a fourth time, he was silenced by a dazzling sensation along his lips. It was an odd sensation, both warm and cold. He closed his eyes and sighed, relishing in what could only be a kiss from his ghostly love, a stupendous and amazing kiss. Castle could feel some pressure along the sides of his face, as if someone was cradling his jaw. The sensation caused his spine to shiver and gooseflesh to materialize along his arms. His skin tingled from her ethereal touch.
The pressure along his lips dissipated and Castle whimpered in unashamed delight as he felt a shiver tingle up along the side of his face, the chilly breeze of her ghostly breath along the shell of his ear. And then it happened, a glorious thing. It was faint, so very faint, but he heard it. He heard her voice, like a gentle sigh of wind.
"I love you."
He let out a groan, could not help it. The gentle sigh against the shell of his ear was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Ethereal music. It was like a dream. He had trouble believing it was reality, yet there it was, being whispered into his ear again. He could feel a cold brush of air with each inclination. It was wondrous, like nothing he had ever experience before. His heart swelled, and he tilted his head, as her soft unearthly fingers carded through his hair. The skin on the back of his neck tingled, and he shivered, feeling a coldness seep into his bones. He succumbed to his feelings, moaning as once again her phantom lips pressed against his.
And then, far too soon, it was over. There was a shuddering sigh and a whirl of wind around him, and then the room temperature returned to normal. Castle reached up with a shaky hand, brushing his fingertips along his numb lips, over sensitize from her ghostly kisses. He blinked once or twice, before coming back from his blissful high. Flicking his eyes up, he spied the movement of his favorite fountain pen as it floated gracefully across a piece of parchment before it collapsed back to the flat surface, finished. He stepped over to his desk, picked up the scrap of paper, and stared at her familiar cursive handwriting.
I love you. Always.
Castle inhaled a deep breath, filling his lungs to the max. His hearth thumped profoundly beneath his chest, drumming out a beat that had never before been present in him, at least not to this degree. The situation was beyond complicated, and any outsider would think him completely mad, but he did not care. Katherine Beckett loved him. And furthermore, she had left him written proof of that love. Tonight had been one of the singular most extraordinary moments of his life.
And he would never be the same again.
