The Medium

I knew someone was in my room even before I was fully awake. I don't know how I knew-I couldn't hear any movement or smell any scent and it was too dark to see more than shadows.

Then one of those shadows moved. It was man-sized and it was right by my bed. My heart leapt into my throat and I opened my mouth to scream but a hand clamped over it.

"It's me," came Jacob's voice. "If I take my hand away, will you be quiet?"

"Try it and find out," I mumbled into his palm.

He removed his hand, somewhat tentatively. "Sorry I scared you." He sat on the bed beside me, so close his thigh almost touched mine. I could just make out the whiteness of his eyes and the shape of his face in the darkness but little else. My heart, still in my throat, hammered so loudly I was sure he must be able to hear it.

"I could have woken the entire household if I'd screamed!" I hissed at him.

"But you didn't. I was waiting for the moment you registered my presence and opened your mouth."

"You can see in the dark?"

"Better than I could before I died."

I pulled the bedcovers up to my chin. "What if I'd been indecent?"

"It's all right, I checked and you weren't."

"Very amusing."

His low chuckle rippled through the darkness. "I give you my word as a gentleman that I won't ravish you."

Could ghosts ravish? Did his...masculine parts work the same as when he was alive? Now there was a question that had my curiosity piqued. Instead I said, "You're in fine form tonight. Is there a reason or are you just happiest when you're tormenting me?"

"I'm tormenting you?" There was a long silence in which I think he was staring at me. It was disconcerting knowing he could see me when I couldn't see him, particularly when my hair probably looked a mess and my eyes must be puffy.

"Yes," I said huffily, "you are. Please light the lamp so I'm no longer at a disadvantage."

He stood and I heard his footsteps cross the room followed by the scrape of a striking match. The single flame threw patterns of light and shadow over his face, highlighting his beautiful contours. He lit the gas lamp and set it down on the dressing table opposite the foot of the bed. He remained there, looking at the items on the table's surface. No, not quite at my things, but at me, in the mirror's reflection. His good humor of earlier seemed to have vanished and he was back to being brooding and unreadable, but that could have just been the lack of light cast by the lamp. It wasn't particularly effective in the thick darkness.