The Haunting - Chapter 11
Spring 1892
Katherine Beckett was angry with him. There was no denying that.
The moment he stepped foot across the threshold and closed the door, a book came flying at him. He had to duck his head to avoid getting hit. It bounced off the door and landed unceremoniously on the floor. He dropped his leather satchel bag and bent down to retrieve the book, just in time, it would seem, as he narrowly missed another sailing tome. Despite the seasonally warm temperatures outside, the brownstone's foyer was frosty. His arms and legs erupted in gooseflesh, and the small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, all resulting in a shiver running down his spine.
Castle flicked his eyes up just in time to see a rather thick book float through the doorway that led into the study. He watched with an odd mixture of amusement and fear as it swung back. The moment it was launched towards him, Castle moved, pushing up on his legs and doing a little twirl, just barely avoiding getting his head wacked by the thick tome.
Her frustrated growl was unmistakable. It was oddly adorable. He had to stop himself from laughing. He ducked his head again as another book came flying at him. He listened to the distinct sounds of phantom footsteps as she stalked back into the study, no doubt to replenish her arsenal. Castle could not hold back the half-smirk at the notion of his ghostly companion bombarding him with books from his expansive collection.
Attempting to school his expression—and failing—Castle stepped around the edge of the doorframe and watched with mild amusement as she picked through the shelves, searching for just the right book to throw at him. He could not really see her, of course, but he could see the spines of numerous books shift back and forth, as if on their own accord. She settled on one, and the dark leather bound book slid off the shelf and hovered in the air for a moment, before it was catapulted towards him. He ducked back behind the doorframe, and smirked when it hit the wood and bounced harmlessly to the ground.
Alright, enough fun, time to find out what is really going on, Castle told himself, pursing his lips, and quickly putting on a serious expression. He stepped back around the doorframe and entered the study, holding his hands up in supplication and surrender. An angry breeze rustled around him, tousling his perfectly groomed hair, but that was of no consequence.
"Katherine?" he called out, hoping his apologetic tone would appease the poltergeist, even if he did not know what it was he should be sorry for.
A cold wind rushed around him, and he shivered, yet kept his back straight, unwilling to let her get at him with her parlor tricks. Castle knew her game, how she would 'haunt' him. He could hear her growl in the howl of the wind. The tasseled ropes keeping the curtains parted, untangled on their own and the windows were soon covered, blocking out the daylight from outside. He squinted his eyes in the near darkness; the only light came from the doorway that led back to the foyer.
The wind swirled around him, and he let out an unmanly squeak when too chilly knuckles squeezed his earlobe and gave a sharp twist. Her cold breath danced across the side of his face as she squirmed, grimacing at the discomfort her normally delicate fingers inflicted.
"You promised," came her ghostly voice in a harsh hiss, disappointed and angry. "You promised me."
"Apples! Apples!" he cried his safe word, though they had hardly any use of such things as it was not like they would ever really get to be intimate in that way, at least not yet. Though he was determined to find a way. If they could touch and kiss, Castle was certain they could discover a way to consummate their love. But first, he needed to unravel the mystery behind his phantasm's ire.
"You promised, Richard!" she hissed again, her ghostly breath chilling his skin.
"What are you talking about!?" he demanded, torquing his body to the right and wiggling out of her vice-like grip. He spun around, rubbing his ear, and pouting his lower lip, hoping to score some sympathy points with her. It was not to be.
The wind swirled around him, and he let out a yelp of surprise when he felt a sharp pinch on his backside. He jumped and turned around, only to once again find his earlobe locked between two merciless fingers.
"Do you not remember?" she questioned, sounding truly vexed and disappointed. "When I was finally able to materialize, I asked you to do something. You promised me that you would do it."
He squeezed his eyes shut, stifling the discomfort of having her twist his ear, as if he were some naughty little schoolboy—he was most definitely having flashbacks to his boarding school days—and racked his brain for what it was she was talking about. And then it came to him, like the dawning of the sun.
Castle opened his eyes and squinted in the near blackness towards his desk, letting out a sharp gasp when he saw the confirmation. Scattered across the desktop were his files and notes on his investigation into the Joseph Pulgatti case, and Katherine's murder. Understanding came to him, and he clenched his jaw, reaching up to pry her phantom fingers off his ear. It would look strange to an outsider, him grabbing at air and pulling off invisible fingers, but to him it was the new normal of his life. It still amazed him that he could touch her. He had always assumed it would be impossible, but over the course of the last few months, after sharing numerous touches and kisses with his ghostly lover, he had discovered that he could have touched her all along, as long as he knew where to reach.
He clutched her hand in his, not letting her pull away. He could feel the tension in the muscles of her hand, but he refused to let go. She did not plead, or beg, and he held firm. Using his other hand, he followed the path up her invisible arm until he felt her shoulder and neck. He curled his fingers around her jaw, cupping her face in his palm. Confident, if only a little, that he was looking into her eyes, Castle attempted to explain himself.
"I need to find him, Katherine," he asserted to the empty air before him. "I need to give you justice. He…," he choked up a little at this part, and he could feel her stance softening a bit. "He murdered you—took you from me. Cursed our love to this half-existence. I cannot let him get away with such a crime. If he could get away with murder, what other evils is such a man capable of. I know… I know I promised not to continue investigating, that the leads had all turned cold, but I cannot. I… I will not. And I am sorry if that upsets you, but you cannot ask me to let it go. I love you, Katherine… so very much. But your death—your murder—is a crime I cannot let go unpunished."
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head forward and sighed with relief when he made contact with her forehead. He listened to her breath, shivering when her other hand came up and touched his face, wiping at the tears that had streamed out.
"Alright," she sighed, her ghostly voice faint but firm. "I may not approve, but I understand. Just promise me that you will be careful. Can you promise me that, Richard?"
"Yes," he affirmed, tilting his head, hoping beyond hope he was staring into her eyes when all he could really see was the bookshelf on the far end of the room. "I can promise you that."
"Then I guess that is all I can ask," Katherine answered, moving her fingers down to nudge his chin down. She pressed up into him, and he sighed, opening his mouth just enough for her forgiving kiss.
He closed his eyes, and let himself imagine her was kissing the beautiful woman in the portrait by his bed, instead of the empty space that stood before him. In his mind, he knew the air in front him was not vacant, but his eyes still had trouble believing.
Castle let out a contented sigh when she pulled back, moving his fingers through the air, searching for the silky strands of her hair. He loved running his fingers through her luscious mane of hair. "Will I see you tonight?" he asked, desperate to see her materialized, and silently wishing that he did not always have to wait for the witching hour.
"I do not know if I am strong enough to do it tonight," she answered, regretfully, caressing his face, making gooseflesh materialize along his neck. "But I will try."
