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The sun rises only minutes after Grace dies. Alex has thrown up in the corner already, and he’s shaking, feverish, wondering if this is what it feels like to have a natural disaster sweep through your home, destroying everything in its path.
Grace is dead. Daniel is dead. There’s blood, so much of it, everywhere, and all of their maids are dead, too, because Emilie is a moron who will shoot anything that moves. No one is going to clean it up, at least not anytime soon.
Alex goes to his room. Looks at Grace’s things, on her side of the bed. Falls in, and doesn’t get up until the sun is setting.
He drinks, and drinks, and drinks. It was always Daniel’s thing, but — well. Daniel is gone, so he can take it. He’s sure Daniel wouldn’t mind.
Things are going on all around him. The blood is cleaned up eventually; the bodies are disposed of, the stories set. They’ve bought the police, obviously, so they don’t even need a story, but it helps. They always have one, just in case.
Alex was supposed to go home. He doesn’t want to. Here, he can drink himself to death and try to forget the massive holes left in his life.
A week passes. Two weeks.
Exactly a month after that night, he sees Grace for the first time.
He wakes up in the middle of the night, still drunk, and there she is. Standing at the foot of his bed, in her cut-off wedding dress, the gun in her hands and the bullets around her shoulders. She’s glowing, a little, and he can see her smiling, cold and furious, down at him.
A scream rises out of his throat, and her smile widens. She turns and walks out, right through the door.
Alex grabs the bottle of whiskey on his nightstand and drinks for ten seconds straight, opening his throat to let in as much alcohol as possible, before closing his eyes again. He doesn’t open them until morning.
The next night, it’s Daniel.
He’s sitting on the edge of Alex’s bed, and when Alex wakes up, his screams frozen in his throat, he reaches down and runs a finger down Alex’s cheek. His finger is cold as ice. There’s a bleeding hole in his throat.
“I love you,” he says, and kisses Alex’s cheek. His lips are just as cold. Alex’s heart might just stop in his chest. “But she doesn’t forgive you.”
Before Alex can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, Daniel fades away.
More whiskey. Sleep.
Alex is afraid to sleep the night after that. He leaves all the lights on, takes a sleeping pill washed down with vodka, and hopes he’ll sleep until morning. And, of course, it doesn’t work.
He wakes up at three in the morning, overheated, sweat pooling in his elbows and knees. He kicks off the blankets and sits up.
And there they are, both of them. Grace in a ripped wedding dress, Daniel with the gushing blood.
Grace approaches him, her sneakers soundless on the wooden floor, and leans over him, her hair falling out of its ghostly updo to brush against his face. It’s cold as ice where it touches the top of his head and he shifts away, uncomfortable.
She kisses his forehead, and smiles. “I’m going to make your life hell,” she says.
One of her hands moves down, between his legs, and grabs on. He jerks in shock — he can feel it, like she’s a real person, and it hurts.
“Fuck you,” she says, and twists, enough to start to hurt. Sweat beads on Alex’s forehead, and he finds himself looking at Daniel, who’s just watching this like it’s an ordinary thing to happen. She keeps twisting, slow and painful, and incredibly, Alex starts to get hard.
Grace’s brows go up, vanishing into her hairline. “Wow, I never knew you were into such freaky shit, Alex. You should’ve told me, I would’ve stomped on your balls anytime.” She squeezes and Alex closes his eyes against the pain and pleasure that are fighting. It’s not exactly true, what she’s saying — it’s more that he’s spent weeks without jerking off, because he’s been constantly drunk and in a state of guilty mourning that wasn’t exactly conducive to masturbation. And even if it’s not her, it’s something close enough to hit the same buttons in his mind.
“I don’t—” he says, and her hands soften, just a little. She slides her hand inside his pajama pants and wraps her hand directly around his dick.
It feels incredibly strange. It’s cold, it doesn’t feel quite like a human hand, but it’s real and solid and as she starts to jerk him off, it feels good; he leans back a little and tries to enjoy it, even if he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.
He remembers, a few moments later, that Daniel is still here, and freezes. He opens his eyes and Daniel is—
Daniel is sitting on his bed, one hand protectively on Grace’s back. He’s watching where Grace’s hand is moving in Alex’s pants, and he’s — he’s flushed, and he looks almost like he’s enjoying it.
It should be horrifying, Alex should be immediately going soft at just the thought of this, but instead he gasps out, “Daniel,” and Daniel looks at him, calm and disappointed as always. It’s enough to send him over the edge.
He comes hard, and Grace pulls her hand away, totally clean. Because it’s a ghost hand. Grace moves away from the bed, and Daniel shifts closer to him and kisses him on the forehead.
“See you soon,” he says, and they both fade away.
He can’t fall asleep again after that.
*
As strange as it is, that’s enough of a cue that Alex has been stuck in self-pity for too long. He packs his things and goes home. He doesn’t need to work and he hasn’t for the last couple of years, so he keeps himself busy at the apartment he used to live in with Grace. He puts her things in boxes, cleans obsessively, and gets some plants.
He doesn’t see Daniel and Grace for almost a month, and he almost thinks they’re gone for good when he wakes up one night to see both of them.
They’re no longer in the clothes they died in; Grace is in leggings and an AC/DC shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders, Daniel is in jeans and a polo, his neck no longer bleeding. Wherever they are now, it has a better selection of clothing.
“How’s it going, murderer?” Grace asks pleasantly.
“Uh,” he says, and Grace smiles.
“What, you thought I was lying about making your life hell? I’m still going to do that, don’t worry. But first…” She pulls off her shirt and drops it to the ground. Even in death, she’s gorgeous, and Alex is so fixated on her as she unhooks her bra and drops it on top of her shirt that he doesn’t notice Daniel moving behind him until Daniel’s hand cups the back of his head. He jumps, and Daniel’s hand moves down to rest on his shoulder.
Grace has pulled off her leggings and underwear by now, and she climbs up on the bed. It indents below her like she has actual weight, and Alex wonders, again, what exactly ghosts can do for a moment before she takes his wrist in her cold hand and guides it between her legs. Alex flexes his fingers hesitantly and can feel her wetness under his hands, the folds of her cunt, and it feels just like it did when she was alive, only colder.
(He really, really doesn’t want to think about the reality of this. It doesn’t feel like fucking a corpse would, he’d pretty sure, but it’s definitely far past what he would’ve thought he was comfortable with. Before, he supposes, his dead wife started showing up as a ghost to fuck with and also fuck him.)
He lets instinct take over, slides his fingers into her and out, his thumb rubbing over her clit over and over, and she lets out a gasp, tilting her head back and riding his fingers. For a moment, he almost forgets that Daniel is still here, that she’s not real and alive: it’s him and Grace again, just like it was before.
She pushes off his fingers, breathing hard — do ghosts need air? — and crawls up the bed, straddling his hips. “Lie down,” she says, her tone leaving no room for discussion, and Alex shuffles down obediently. Just before she moves up to straddle his face, he sees Daniel, and it’s like a bucket of cold water being dumped over him. He jumps and hits his head against Grace’s leg.
“Jesus,” he says, and Daniel smiles, tight and cryptic.
“Do what she tells you,” he says, and rests one hand protectively on Grace’s lower back. “Go on.”
Grace shoots him an irritated look and sinks down onto his face.
This, at least, is instinct; he could do this in his sleep. The cold is disconcerting, but he gets used to it quickly, and it’s still Grace; she still responds the same way to what he does. She flings her head back, her thighs tensing on either side of his face, and lets out little whimpers as he licks into her. He reaches up to rest one hand on her thigh and uses the other to thumb over her clit along with his tongue. A few moments later, one of her hands fists in his hair and she’s gasping and coming hard against his tongue.
She breathes for a moment, still on top of him, before climbing off, and there’s Daniel again, smiling down at him like this is totally normal. Alex sits up, puts his head in his hands — his face is wet, he has no idea what kind of fluids are contained in the bodies of ghosts and he isn’t sure he wants to — and closes his eyes.
“Daniel, please—”
“I’m here for her,” Daniel says quietly. “And for you.”
“What is that supposed to—”
Daniel reaches down, casual, and slides his hand into Alex’s boxers. He goes still as Daniel’s hand slides around his hardening cock and begins to move.
“Daniel, what the hell—”
“Is that a no?” Grace says pleasantly.
“I—”
“I don’t think so.” She sits up and kisses his cheek. “You’re still good at eating pussy. At least you’re good for something.”
“Daniel, please—”
Grace leans in and whispers into his ear as Daniel continues jerking him off. “You always wanted him, didn’t you? You loved him, you always wanted your older brother to fuck you. I knew you did. Guess what — I always wanted to watch.”
Alex doesn’t have any words left; he can’t find it in him to say no. Daniel stops, and for a moment he’s full of sickening relief that he didn’t have to say anything, until Daniel pulls down his boxers and tosses them aside. He climbs on the bed and leans down to take Alex’s cock into his mouth.
The feeling of a cold, slick mouth around him is overwhelming. Alex moans, far too loud, falling back against the bed, and Grace sits by his side, running her fingers through his hair and whispering filthy words in his ear. Telling him that he always wanted to fuck Daniel, that they’re so hot, that doesn’t he look so good with Alex’s cock in his mouth. It’s barely a minute before Alex’s vision blurs and he comes so hard he sees stars.
He lies back, boneless and sick with horror. He feels like he’s going to throw up; the endorphins are wearing off and the full impact of what just happened is hitting him like a train.
His dead brother just gave him a blowjob, and he liked it.
His stomach churns; as Daniel stands and wipes his mouth, Alex rolls over, away from Grace, and dry-heaves against his pillow. His head is aching and he desperately needs a drink and he wants to forget this ever happened.
“See you soon,” Grace says sweetly, and Alex looks up in time to see them both fade away.
For maybe five minutes, Alex just lies there, shell-shocked. Eventually he manages to get up and stumble to the bathroom. He washes off the sticky, drying wetness on his face, and gets into the shower, turning up the heat and sitting on the floor. He stays there for a long time.
He wonders, as the hot water pours down around him, if he’s going crazy and seeing things. If it’s going to get worse.
He closes his eyes and leans against the cool tile wall. He’ll think about it tomorrow.
*
It’s not the last time. The next time is a week later; Grace grabs one of his neckties out of the drawer and Daniel ties his wrists to the headboard of his bed, and Grace rides him, and it feels like it could be real and normal, except Daniel is there too. He’s watching, one hand on Grace’s back, kissing her on the cheek as she gets close. When Grace finishes — before Alex does — she climbs off him and Daniel sucks him off. Grace pets Daniel’s hair, her cheeks flushed, until Alex comes, and then, leaving Alex tied up, she blows Daniel.
Alex is becoming less horrified. He’s still uncomfortable, still wondering if he’s going crazy, but he feels less sick to his stomach at having sex with Daniel. (And isn’t that horrifying? Does that, in and of itself, make him insane? He has no idea.)
Grace unties him, kisses his cheek, and says, “Bye, murderer.” They fade away together, hands intertwined. Alex drinks some whiskey and falls asleep still half-dressed.
*
Alex barely leaves his apartment, at this point. He jumps at small movements; he flinches when someone gets too close at the grocery store. He’s ignoring his phone calls.
He goes to sleep every night afraid they’re going to show up, and wondering if he wants them to. And that, he supposes, is his punishment. (That, and the nightmares. Walls painted with blood, heads exploding in sprays of brain matter and gore. Grace’s body in its wedding dress on the floor in front of him, her last screams echoing. Waking up with a gun pointed at his face.)
*
The next time, he thinks he might truly be losing his mind.
Grace tells him, in no uncertain terms, that Daniel is going to fuck him, and he feels himself getting lightheaded as Daniel smiles at him. His form flickers, a little, and Alex sees the blood for a moment, running down his throat.
“Okay,” he whispers, and Grace smiles.
He has some lube left over in a drawer; he and Grace rarely needed it, but it was always there. She tells him what to do, and he does it while they both watch, and it’s humiliating and somehow erotic. And when he’s ready, Daniel places a hand in the small of his back and pushes in. It’s cold and thick and shocking, and Alex finds himself tensing and holding his breath as it goes deeper and deeper. Grace is naked in front of him, her fingers running lightly over her clit as she watches.
“You’re doing good, murderer,” she says as Daniel bottoms out. Alex drops his head and lets out all his air in a rush. His head is spinning; he’s never felt anything like this and doesn’t even know where to start.
Daniel starts to thrust, and Alex closes his eyes and lets it happen. Eventually a cold hand wraps around his dick and starts to jerk him off in the rhythm of the thrusts, and he comes in spurts across his chest and the bedsheets as something cold and wet spills out inside him. Daniel pulls out, Alex winces at the pain, and Grace kisses Daniel in front of him. She gestures to herself, and Alex doesn’t need her to ask; he leans down and gets to work getting her off.
She comes with a soft sigh, her fingers knotted in his hair, and Daniel helps her up. She blows him a kiss and the two of them fade away.
Alex showers, tries and fails to figure out what the ghostly substances on and in him are, and falls back into an uneasy sleep.
He wakes up to the sound of his door being broken down.
There’s a flurry of activity — dozens of cops, guns pointed at him in a mirror of his nightmares. He’s pulled out of bed and searched as his apartment is torn apart.
Eventually, one of them shoves him against his dresser and handcuffs him. “Alex Le Domas, you’re under arrest for the murder of Grace Le Domas—”
Everything fades out. Alex can’t even hear the cop talking; his world is frozen.
They’ve bought the police, this can’t happen to him, Grace’s body shouldn’t have been found, he didn’t even strike the killing blow—
He’s pulled away, and led to the elevator, still in his boxers and a shirt that still has Grace’s ghost come on it. He’s led into the blazing sun, his bare feet hurting on the hot sidewalk, and pushed into the back of the cop car. He still can’t hear through his shock. It doesn’t feel real.
A few minutes later, they arrive at the county jail. He’s stripped and searched and dressed as a prisoner, led to his cell, and the door clangs shut, sealing his fate.
Alex sits on the concrete floor, shaking in cold or fear, his head buried in his knees. He might be crying. He’s not sure.
When he looks up, Grace is there. She’s smiling.
“It’s okay, murderer. I’m sure your fancy lawyers will get you out. But until then… enjoy.” She stands, and there’s Daniel. He looks down at Alex, and all he looks is sad.
They vanish, and Alex is alone.