Soulmates Reunited

After having my mind-blowing thought about somehow communicating with Harry, I rushed home. I was convinced there must be a way, on this special night, that I could see him once more. If I could see him, talk to him, know he was OK, maybe then I could start to be more at peace with myself and what had happened. Perhaps I could let go of him, and move on.

 

I logged straight onto the internet and started wildly Googling spiritual websites that might be able to tell me how I could communicate with the dead. How odd, I thought, vampires are supposed to kill people and not give a shit. I really am one of a kind.

 

Eventually I hit the jackpot. I'd had to sift through a lot of dross to find out what it was I really wanted to know, and when I did, I felt sick with excitement. It really was possible. I was going to be able to speak to my soulmate once more. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

 

Now I had to execute my plan. It was a pretty weird plan, but in my situation, I couldn't afford to be picky. I took the things I needed from home, and set off.

 

Although they'd never found a body, the police had provided enough evidence to Harry's parents for them to believe he was dead. And so, without a body, they'd had a service for him and had a headstone erected in his honour. I'm sure they felt it was the only way they could move on. And this was the only way I could.

 

I headed for the beautiful little churchyard in which Harry's parents had laid his memory, if not his corpse, to rest. They lived in a small village, I'd discovered, and their community was pretty close, so I hoped to God nobody would notice me wandering around in the churchyard because I didn't fancy a run-in with a nosey neighbour, or worse, the police.

 

Once there, I quickly located the headstone as my heightened senses could smell the still fairly-fresh earth where they'd had to dig to secure the base of the headstone. See, I do have some useful powers.

 

Standing on what would be Harry's grave, if there was a body, I began the ritual necessary to bring his spirit to me from the other side. I took the blade from my pocket, along with a scarf. It had been Harry's scarf that I'd once inadvertently gone home in because one evening he'd insisted I looked cold and gave it to me. He'd never asked for it back, so I kept it because it reminded me of him. After his death I hid it away because the memories were just too painful.

 

I held out my left arm and draped the scarf over it, in the crook of my elbow. Then I took the blade, and, closing my eyes, sliced my skin enough to draw blood. I looked back and watched the blood well up out of the wound then wrapped the scarf lightly around my arm and waited. The red stain grew on the material, and I really hoped the website I'd been on wasn't just a load of hocus pocus.

 

According to the information on the website, my blood on something belonging to Harry would give him enough power to temporarily come back to the living realm. I wasn't sure it would still work, given that they were referring to human blood. But given it's what I drink, I figured that it would be close enough. It was worth a shot anyway.

 

When the scarf was saturated with blood, I peeled it away from my skin. The wound was already starting to heal. I just hoped it would be enough. I draped the garment across the headstone, stepped back to a respectable distance, given I had no idea where he would appear from, closed my eyes, and spoke the incantation.

 

Moments later nothing had happened. I felt all the hope leave my body and my shoulders slumped. Just as I was about to open my eyes I sensed something. A split second later I felt a pressure on my lips, arms sliding around my waist and up to the back of my neck. It was like something out of Ghost. I relaxed into the moment and kissed him back. I knew it was him from the way he touched me, from the way my body responded. And because it felt right. I was kissing a dead person, but it still felt right.

 

The weird thing was, although my brain knew Harry was dead and that effectively I was kissing a spirit, my body didn't seem to care either way. It responded in the same way it always had to his touch, and I became aroused. I let my rational thoughts go and just enjoyed the moment. It would probably never happen again.

 

I felt my nipples harden under my top, my clit begin to stir and my heart thud in my chest. I desperately wanted him to touch me in my most private place. To leave off where we started, but this time to enjoy the ultimate pleasure, together. I really felt it was right to lose my virginity to Harry, despite all the other reasons it was wrong. You know, the whole he's-dead-and-we're-in-a-graveyard thing. I loved him when he was alive, and just because he'd gone, my feelings had never diminished, even after all my attempts to move on. They'd just been a front, a big up-yours to my Guardian Angel. There was no way I'd ever let him know he was grinding me down. Not a chance.

 

Harry's thoughts were clearly as one with my own as one of his hands trailed down my back and cupped my bum and pulled me closer to him. I felt his erection hot and hard against me, and my pussy drooled in response. How can something so wrong, feel so right? I firmly pushed the thought away and trailed my lips away from his only to let them taste the skin of his throat, the delicate skin behind his ears. I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to kiss and touch him all over, claim him as my own.

 

Claim him? Now there was a thought I didn't push away… Could it be done?