The Tales and Tellings of Hallows' Grove (MLM)

CHAPTER FOUR.

                It was only another few minutes before Vera had to return to the grocery store for her shift. All the while Edward was pacing the length of the shop, walking right through the stacks of books and tables of wax melts.

"He killed me, Henry, I'm sure of it, he killed me!"

As soon as the door was closed, Henry came around the counter. "Calm yourself, Edward. How do you know he killed you?"

"I remember him!"

"Spirits always confuse memories," said Henry.

"I'm not a spirit, I'm a man!"

"You could be remembering him from something else. Or are we supposed to believe that your very killer walked into the same store where you were?"

"You don't believe me?"

"Murder leaves a mark," he said. "A killer would never be able to enter the same space their victim stood, not without consequences."

Edward shook his head, helpless. "He killed me, Henry, I'm sure of it."

Henry looked down. "I believe that you were killed," he said quietly. "No ghost could mistake that. I think we should focus on the potion so that you can move on—"

"No," Edward pleaded. "No, you must help me. You must help me prove he's the one who killed me!"

Henry returned to the back of the counter and his book which he'd hidden away once Vera had come in. "I don't have the time."

Edward stared. "Is this the price of magic? To be a witch, you must forfeit your soul?"

Henry ignored this. "You'll be happier once you're free of this world. I promise."

"Haven't you ever felt like half of you was missing?" he demanded, coming around the counter. "Like you don't know who you are?"

"The potion will be ready in a week's time. One week, you can stay at the cottage until then."

"I don't want a roof to stay under, I want to know what happened to me!" Edward demanded. "I want to know why, Henry! Who was I that someone wanted to kill me?!"

His voice was passionate, but that was not what stunned Henry. It was not the fire in his eyes or the chandelier trembling above their heads. Nor was it his scent of fire and parchment. It was that his hands gripped Henry's arms, that his touch was warm and bruising and very, very real.

"Y-You can touch me," Henry muttered, eyes wide. "How can you touch me?"

Edward blinked and gasped, stepping back, hands up in defence.

"No!" Henry said. "Don't stop now! Was it an accident? I've never seen an accident like that!"

"You haven't?" Edward's voice was hopeful.

Henry held his palm out to him. "Try it again. Try to touch me."

Edward visibly swallowed. He pleaded under his breath and hesitated before his fingers hovered just above Henry's palm. When he finally dared to touch him, Henry gasped. He could feel Edward as clearly as though he were alive, as warmly.

Now it was Henry's turn to pull away, but Edward caught his wrist.

"Please," he breathed, eyes wide and afraid. "Please, just—just a moment longer."