Waking the Dead by Jane Davitt, Alexa Snow

said. There was still a hint of laughter in her voice, but it was quickly disappearing behind what John knew was nervousness. “Scratching noises, as if the men, in trying to claw their way free, had embedded an echo into the rock itself.” She bit her lip, then tried to smile. “Fanciful child, wasn’t I?”
    There was no way Josh could keep away, not when she was so anxious and, at the same time, trying so hard to hide it. He moved closer. “I can see why. It’s pretty freaky, and what with growing up hearing that story -- I’m not surprised it scared you.”
    “I ran home,” Caitrin said. In the backglow of the flashlight, her eyes shone eerily. “All the way. My dad was shouting after me, but I couldn’t make myself stop.” She cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “I think I’d forgotten all of that until just now.”
    “It’s amazing how memories can be triggered,” Josh told her. He sniffed the damp air, thick with the smell of rotting seaweed. “By smell, most of all.” He was picking up her thoughts strongly now, her emotions intensified by her remembered fear. “You fell,” he said slowly. “Took the skin off your knees because you landed so hard and didn’t notice it until your mother saw you and cried out and then it started to hurt.”
    “How did you know that?” Caitrin’s eyes widened. “My God, Josh, how could you know that? Did my uncle tell you?”
    Josh shook his head. “You did. When you thought about it.”
    They stared at each other in silence and Josh made sure to stay very still because this wasn’t really the best place for Caitrin to panic and possibly take off, not with the dark rocks slick and wet underfoot.
    “I don’t believe you,” Caitrin said finally, but her voice shook and it was a lie. “Someone told you. Uncle John, or maybe even my mam, the last time you were here, and you’ve remembered all this time.”
    Josh didn’t answer. She didn’t want to hear that it was the truth, and he couldn’t be dishonest and say anything that would let her continue to fool herself. It was better to say nothing at all.
    After what felt like a long, long time, Caitrin finally looked away, first down at the floor of the cave and then at the walls. “I wonder what it was like,” she said, and Josh was with her as she imagined the two brothers, hands tied as the water washed up over their mouths and noses. She had a vivid imagination -- she could feel the burning in her nostrils as the salt water stung at them, and the rapid skittering of her heart as fear became terror.
    It was too much; again, Josh moved closer to her, and this time she moved willingly into his arms, lifting her face for the kiss they both wanted. Her lips were warm, her sweater soft against Josh’s palms. He didn’t care that the flashlight she was holding dug into his back.
    “You know you believe me,” he said, even though he shouldn’t have, when their mouths parted. They were both breathing heavily.
    “Shut up,” Caitrin told him. “I don’t. You’re a liar.” And she kissed him again, her mouth fierce against his own.
    “Test me,” Josh demanded, pulling back from the kiss, his mouth stinging, his blood warm in his veins. He was tall enough that he had to bend his head to kiss her, and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, the cave dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t see the amusement in her eyes, that was what he did, flicking his tongue past the dark pink pout of her lips to taste her and forgetting his demand.
    He tried not to listen as he kissed her, but he couldn’t pull back out of her head, not when their bodies were this close. He felt everything twice; his own awareness of her enjoyment of the kiss amplified by what she was thinking. His hands found the damp silk of her hair, and they stood, swaying together in the center of the cave, mouths busy and hungry, until Caitrin started to edge them toward a ledge running along the back of the cave, which was