Chapter 22: The Researchers
The library door clicked shut, sealing Elias in a tomb of silence and slow decay. Dust motes danced in the single slanted beam of light cutting down from the high window, illuminating the two young women perched on the edge of the massive oak table. Carissa and Suzy looked like fragments of a forgotten summer, their bikinis a stark contrast to the somber, leather-bound volumes surrounding them.
Elias pulled up a heavy chair, the screech of its legs against the floorboards unnaturally loud. "So. Eddie said you two were eager to help."
"Eager is a strong word," Suzy said, not looking up from a fragile, yellowed letter she was carefully smoothing with her translucent hands. "Let's go with 'profoundly bored.' Decades of haunting gets real old, real fast. This is a welcome distraction." Her form flickered with the effort of maintaining solid contact with the physical paper.
Carissa nodded, her shoulder-length black hair swaying. "Plus, we were actually good students. Before." She gestured to a sprawling pile of documents between them—blueprints, ledgers, and loose sheets covered in spidery ink. "We're pretty sure this mess holds the guide to the pipes in the basement around Tamya's spring. But it's a jigsaw puzzle from hell. It's going to take time to put it in an order that makes sense."
Elias leaned forward, elbows on the table, and surveyed the chaotic spread. "I'm impressed. I have to admit, when I first saw you two, I didn't peg you for archival scholars."
Suzy finally looked up, a sharp, knowing glint in her eyes. "What did you peg us for, Elias? Just a couple of dumb sorority girls? Pretty faces and bouncy tits?"
He held up his hands in surrender. "I plead the fifth. But I'm learning this house is full of surprises." He picked up a corner of a blueprint, his own fingers solid and clumsy next to their careful, ethereal movements. "What were you studying?"
"Psychology," Carissa said, her gaze distant for a moment. "I wanted to be a therapist. Help people untangle their own messy heads." She let out a soft, hollow laugh. "Kind of ironic now."
"History and political science," Suzy added, tapping a neatly manicured, ghostly finger on a date. "I was going to run for city council someday. Maybe even Congress. I had plans." She said it without self-pity, a simple statement of fact that landed with the weight of a tombstone.
For a few hours, they worked in a companionable silence broken only by the soft rustle of paper. Elias found himself watching them, not as specters, but as the young women they had been—intelligent, ambitious, their lives brutally truncated. The library’s oppressive atmosphere seemed to lessen, replaced by a focused, almost studious energy. They cross-referenced dates from a water-stained ledger with sketches on a brittle blueprint, their whispers a quiet conference of the dead.
"Okay, but for real," Carissa said, breaking the silence with a return of her lighter tone. "That delivery girl, Ashley. She totally has a thing for you."
Elias groaned, rubbing his eyes. "She does not. She's just friendly."
"Friendly?" Suzy scoffed. "She memorized your coffee order after one visit. That's not friendly, that's target acquisition. You should ask her out. Get a living, breathing girl in here for once."
"The last thing I need is to explain my roommates to a date," Elias muttered, gesturing vaguely at the two bikini-clad ghosts. "‘Oh, don't mind them, they just died in a boating accident. And the woman in the corner is from the 19th century. And the big guy by the fireplace hasn't spoken since McKinley was shot.'"
Carissa giggled, a sound like wind chimes. "We could be discreet. We could just be... a draft." She leaned over the table toward him, her expression playful. "Or we could provide a different kind of distraction. Studying is important, but so are breaks." Her gaze drifted meaningfully from the papers to Elias, and then to Suzy, who wiggled her eyebrows.
"The offer is perpetually on the table," Suzy added, her voice a low, teasing murmur. "Literally."
Elias felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the dusty room. He looked from one to the other, the invitation hanging in the air between the stacks of history and loss. They were so vibrant, so present, even in their death. The memory of Mary's warmth, the transfer of energy, was still a fresh, thrilling scar on his mind.
He opened his mouth, a reckless agreement on his tongue, but the words died as he really looked at them. He saw the faint, eternal waterline of sunburn on Carissa's shoulders, the way Suzy’s hair was forever styled for a beach day that never ended. They were frozen, beautiful and tragic, their entire futures reduced to this single, endless spring break.
They were frozen, beautiful and tragic, their entire futures reduced to this single, endless spring break. The weight of that thought must have shown on his face, a shadow of pity he couldn’t quite hide.
Suzy noticed it immediately, her playful smirk softening into something more weary and knowing. “You’re doing it again,” she said, her voice cutting through the dusty silence. “You’re overthinking our tragic backstory. We get it. It’s a real tearjerker.”
She leaned back on her hands, a gesture that was both casual and deeply resigned. “Look, we’ve made peace with being the bouncy sorority girls in skimpy bikinis for the foreseeable future. Our minds have kept going, though. We’ve had a lot of time to think. In here,” she tapped her temple, “we’re basically middle-aged women trapped in these… jiggly bodies.”
Carissa hopped off the table, landing with a lightness that defied her words. “And if that’s how it’s going to be,” she declared, placing her hands on her hips, “then we are going to enjoy these jiggly bodies for as long as we can.” A fierce, defiant grin spread across her face. “We feel like we owe it to all our sisters who are on the other side of forty now, worrying about their mortgages and their knees.”
Elias let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the somber mood shattered by their brutal, practical acceptance. “Okay,” he admitted, a slow smile finally breaking through. “You have a point. A really, really good point.”
He also admitted to himself, with a jolt of pure, undiluted heat, that the two women were having a profound effect on him. The intellectual connection from hours of shared work now fused with their vibrant, unapologetic physicality, creating a pull that was impossible to ignore. The air in the library felt charged, the dust motes dancing around them like static.
The air in the library felt charged, the dust motes dancing around them like static. Elias’s gaze flickered between them, the heat in the room becoming a palpable weight. He dragged a hand through his hair, the memory of his promise a sudden, cold anchor in the rising tide of want.
“Look, there’s… there’s something I should probably say,” he started, the words feeling clumsy. “I kind of promised Moonbeam. That I wouldn’t… you know. With anyone else. Until her and I… you know, first.”
He braced for their laughter, their dismissal of the hippie ghost’s claim. But Suzy just smiled, a slow, predatory thing that didn’t reach her eyes. “That won’t be a problem,” she said, her voice a low hum.
Her hands went behind her back. There was a faint, almost inaudible snap. The tiny triangles of her bikini top fell away, landing on the aged blueprint without a sound. She didn’t look away from him, her expression a challenge and an invitation fused into one.
Elias’s breath hitched. The sight of her, proud and unashamed, sent a jolt straight through him. All the intellectual camaraderie of the last few hours vaporized, replaced by a raw, primal pull. The library, with its centuries of knowledge, suddenly felt like the most intimate of rooms.
The library, with its centuries of knowledge, suddenly felt like the most intimate of rooms. Suzy didn’t wait for his permission or his hesitation. She simply leaned forward from the edge of the table, her chestnut hair brushing his cheeks, and presented herself to him.
His world narrowed to the pale, perfect skin of her breasts. He saw the faint, almost invisible freckles scattered like dust across their upper curves, the soft, yielding texture of her. Her nipples were a pale, dusty rose, and they tightened instantly under his gaze, pebbling into hard, eager points before he even touched her. The air left his lungs in a soft, stunned rush.
Then he did touch her, his mouth closing over one peak, his tongue tracing the rigid contour. A sharp, gasping sigh escaped her, her back arching as her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there. He could feel the change, the way her flesh responded to the heat and wetness of his mouth, becoming even harder, more defined against his tongue.
Behind him, Carissa’s cool, slender arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressing against his back. Her lips found his ear, and her whisper was a warm, foreign torrent that bypassed his conscious mind and went straight to his spine. “Qué bueno se ve tu boca en ella… ahora quiero sentirla en mí…” Her voice was a low, husky promise, her Spanish both a secret and an invitation. “Déjame ver… quiero ver cómo te comes a mi hermana…”
Elias was lost in the dual sensation, the taste of one woman and the whispered devotions of the other. He moved his mouth to Suzy’s other breast, his hands coming up to cradle her, to feel the weight of her in his palms. Her breathing was a ragged, desperate rhythm now, each exhale a soft cry that was swallowed by the vast, silent library.
Carissa’s whispers never ceased, her words painting a vivid, obscene picture of what was happening and what would come next. “Esa es… así… hazla gemar para mí…” Her cool hands slid down from his neck, over his chest, her touch a ghostly counterpoint to Suzy’s very present heat. The scent of coconut sunscreen and old paper filled his head, a bizarre and intoxicating mix.
This was nothing like the desperate, energy-fueled transaction with Mary. This was a languid, shared indulgence, a feast for senses he didn’t know he possessed. He was a conduit for their pleasure, and in giving it, he felt a power that was entirely his own, a vitality that thrummed through him, making the very dust in the air seem to vibrate.
Suzy’s head fell back, a long, low moan tearing from her throat as he lavished attention on her, his tongue and lips working in a rhythm that was both tender and demanding. Her hips shifted restlessly on the wooden table, her legs parting slightly. Carissa’s arms tightened around him, her whispered praises growing more urgent, her Spanish dissolving into breathless, pleading fragments.
The grand library, a monument to silent thought, was now filled with the sounds of their shared, breathless gasps. The towering shelves of books seemed to lean in, silent witnesses to this raw, living moment amidst so much death.
The towering shelves of books seemed to lean in, silent witnesses to this raw, living moment amidst so much death. Suzy’s moans grew more insistent, her fingers clutching at his hair with a desperate strength. “Elias, please,” she gasped, the words a ragged breath against the dusty air.
He didn’t need further encouragement. In one fluid motion, his hands slid from her breasts to her hips, and he lifted her, shifting her weight fully onto the broad, solid table. The ancient wood groaned in protest. His fingers hooked into the thin strings at her hips, and with a single, deliberate tug, he pulled the tiny bikini bottoms down her legs and off.
He dove between her legs without hesitation, his mouth finding the warm, slick center of her. Suzy cried out, a sharp, echoing sound that seemed to shake the very dust from the shelves. Her back arched off the table, her body bowing against the relentless, practiced rhythm of his tongue.
Behind him, Carissa pressed closer, her cool form a stark contrast to the heat building between him and Suzy. Her slender hands slid around his waist, her fingers deftly finding the button of his jeans. The rasp of the zipper coming down was loud in the hushed room. Elias flinched, a single, jarring image of Moonbeam’s serene smile flashing behind his eyes.
The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. He trusted his own control, his ability to navigate this particular storm. Carissa’s hand slipped inside his open jeans, her cool, knowing fingers wrapping around him. He groaned against Suzy, the dual sensation overwhelming, a current of pure, undiluted life coursing through him.
Carissa leaned over his back, her lips brushing his ear. “See?” she whispered, her voice thick with a mixture of pride and raw hunger. “We’re very good at multitasking.”
Carissa’s cool fingers worked with a practiced efficiency, and the sudden rush of air against his bare skin made Elias gasp. She slid from the table and knelt on the dusty Persian rug, her eyes widening with genuine appreciation. “Oh, wow, Elias,” she breathed, her voice a mixture of awe and hunger. “You are just… perfectly put together.” Her hand wrapped around him, a shocking contrast of cool and heat. “So thick and heavy. I just want to taste all of it.”
As she leaned forward, her mouth closing over him with a soft, wet warmth, Elias’s head fell back against Suzy’s thighs. Suzy’s own climax was building, a tight, trembling tension he could feel against his cheeks. “Don’t you stop,” she demanded, her voice ragged and raw, her fingers locking in his hair to hold him exactly in place. “Right there, don’t you dare stop.”
The dual sensation was utterly consuming. Carissa’s head bobbed in his lap with a relentless, eager rhythm, her muffled moans vibrating through him. Suzy’s hips bucked against his face, her pleas dissolving into incoherent cries. The library, the ledgers, the entire weight of the house—it all shrunk to this single, overwhelming point of sensation. He was the anchor in their storm, the conduit for a pleasure that felt as endless as their afterlife.
A sharp, guttural cry tore from Suzy’s throat as her body seized, her back arching completely off the table in a silent, shattering wave. Her muscles locked, a statue of pure sensation, before she collapsed back onto the blueprints with a final, shuddering gasp. The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the ragged sound of their breathing.
Then, a raw, guttural scream ripped through the dusty air. "FUCK MY SOUL RIGHT OUT OF THIS GODDAMN HOUSE, ELIAS!" Suzy roared, her voice echoing off the high ceiling.
She pushed herself up on trembling arms, her chest still heaving. A wicked, spent grin spread across her face as she looked past Elias to where Carissa was kneeling. "Your turn, Cari," she panted, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Don't you dare hold back."
Carissa released Elias with a soft, wet sound, her eyes dark and wide with a hunger that mirrored her sister’s. She didn't speak. Instead, she moved with a fluid, decisive grace, rising to her feet and pushing Elias backward into the heavy chair he’d vacated hours ago. The wood groaned in protest.
She climbed onto the table just as Suzy rolled off of it. Her tiny bikini bottoms were already gone, discarded somewhere on the rug. She leaned forward and kissed him, her shoulder-length black hair curtaining their faces. Then she leaned back, her legs spread.
Then she leaned back, her legs spread. Elias’s gaze dropped, and the thought arrived, unbidden and utterly specific: she was spending eternity with a finely groomed Brazilian wax. The precise, bare skin seemed both tragically modern and deeply intimate, a personal detail preserved across decades.
“See something you like?” Carissa’s voice was a throaty challenge, her hips shifting on the cool wood of the table.
He answered by closing the distance between them, his hands finding her waist. The library air, thick with dust and history, now carried the salty-sweet scent of their bodies. Suzy watched from the floor, propped on an elbow, her expression a mix of satisfaction and avid curiosity.
“Don’t be gentle,” Carissa whispered, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “I haven’t felt anything in a long time.”
He obliged without hesitation. His mouth found her clit, his tongue tracing insistent, practiced circles against the sensitive nub. At the same time, he slid two fingers inside her, the warmth and wetness a stark contrast to the library’s cool, still air.
Carissa gasped, her back bowing off the table. “Yes,” she hissed, her fingers scrabbling at the wood grain. “More.” He added a third finger, stretching her gently, his palm pressing against her as he delved deeper. He searched, curving his fingers upward, applying a firm, steady pressure against her front wall.
He found it. A rough, textured patch that made her entire body jolt. A sharp, guttural cry was torn from her throat, so different from her usual melodic tone. “There!” she screamed, her hips bucking against his hand. “Right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop!” Her legs trembled violently, clamping against the sides of his head.
Elias focused all his attention on that single, erogenous epicenter, rubbing it with a relentless rhythm while his tongue continued its work on her clit. The dual assault was overwhelming her, shattering the careful composure she’d maintained for hours. Her whispers turned to ragged, Spanish-laced pleas, words he didn’t understand but whose meaning was perfectly clear.
Suzy watched from the floor, her own breathing shallow. “That’s it, Cari,” she murmured, her voice thick with shared sensation. “Let it go. Just let it all go.” She bit her lip, her hand drifting unconsciously between her own legs, mirroring the pleasure she was witnessing.
Carissa’s cries grew higher, tighter, coiling into a single, sustained note of pure tension. Her hands fisted in his hair, not guiding him now, but holding on for dear unlife. Her body was a rigid arc, every muscle straining, a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit.
Her body was a rigid arc, every muscle straining, a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit.
Elias pulled his tongue back. He wrapped his free arm around Carissa's leg and used that hand to rub her clit, while his other hand pistoned harder and harder into her. He stood up to get better leverage and felt liquid flowing freely around his hand.
He stood up to get better leverage and felt liquid flowing freely around his hand. "Don't stop!" Carissa screamed, her voice shredding into a raw, desperate plea that echoed off the library's high ceiling. He drove his fingers into her with all his strength, grinding the heel of his palm against her, and her back arched so violently it seemed her spine might snap.
Her body went rigid, every muscle locking into a final, impossible tension. Then her hands flew to his wrist, her nails digging in as she gasped, "Out, pull them out!" He yanked his fingers free just as her entire form convulsed. A massive, warm gush erupted from her, soaking the front of his shirt and jeans in a transparent flood that shimmered with a faint, pearlescent light.
The force of it pushed her back onto the table, where she lay gasping, her chest heaving. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the soft, steady drip of fluid onto the dusty floorboards. A profound, buzzing silence settled over the room, thick and heavy.
Suzy let out a low, appreciative whistle from her spot on the rug. "Damn, Cari," she breathed, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You really baptized him."
Elias looked down at his drenched clothes, then back at the spent form of Carissa. A stunned laugh bubbled up from his chest. "I... was not expecting that." He wiped a hand across his damp face, the scent of her, clean and oceanic, filling his senses.
Carissa pushed herself up on trembling elbows, a look of pure, unadulterated shock in her eyes. "I... I haven't been able to do that since... since I was alive." She stared at the shimmering wet patch on Elias's shirt as if it were a miracle. A slow, triumphant smile finally broke through her astonishment.
The air around them hummed, a tangible energy that made the fine hairs on Elias's arms stand up. The library itself seemed to sigh, the shelves creaking softly as if settling deeper into the foundation. He felt a surge of vitality, a crackling current that was far more intense than what he’d experienced with Mary.
"Whoa," Suzy said, her eyes wide as she looked around. "Do you guys feel that? The whole house just... buzzed."
Elias nodded, unable to form words. The transfer was different, stronger. It wasn't just a trickle of power; it felt like he’d tapped a mainline. Carissa’s form, which had begun to soften at the edges, suddenly snapped back into crisp, vivid focus, more solid and real than he’d ever seen any of them.