"I don't know about that," another voice whispered, "But she certainly does seem a little distracted."

"Well, you know, they WERE awfully close." At least this voice, a man's, contained some small measure of concern. "You don't think she'd try to hurt herself, do you?"

"Ha -- and ruin that pretty face? Not likely." With another sickening hack, the first voice said "I'm going to step outside for a smoke. Join me?"

I didn't hear any response from the other two gossips -- maybe they nodded, I don't know -- but the sound of clicking heels and stomping boots told me they'd accepted the invitation. Just as well, since another few hours of goading just MIGHT have pushed me into saying something. Who knows, it might even have been a bit rude.

Gawd, for some reason, I was being rather patient tonight -- a good deal more tolerant than usual too. Actually, I knew exactly what the reason was, I just didn't like having to think about it.

"Debra?" This voice was quiet, hesitant, but friendly too. "Honey?" I felt a warm, strong, comfortably familiar hand come down upon my right shoulder. "I'm going to get your mother a coffee. Would you like anything?"

I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

"Are you sure?" With a gentle squeeze of my shoulder, Dad leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "You really should --"

"No . . . no, thanks."

With a sigh, he gave me one last squeeze then took his hand from my shoulder and walked away. It was funny how a mousy little man like my uncle could make so much noise, while an overweight behemoth like Dad could move almost silently. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to laugh -- hadn't been for days.

"What's wrong with me, Fiona?" I stepped closer to the polished coffin and shrugged. "Everybody seems to think I should be bawling my eyes out, wailing and shrieking like Mom did the day . . ." I hesitated briefly, then whispered "The day you died."

There -- I'd said it. My sister, my best friend in the whole world was dead, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Sure, I could echo any number of grieving cliches -- cry 'it's not fair' to the heavens, beg a god I didn't believe in to tell me 'why' -- but what was the use? Fiona was dead, I wasn't, and that's all there was to it.

"I feel so empty, sis. It's like part of me died with you." Quietly, so nobody else could hear, I added "The very best part." Then, braving a half-smile, I looked away from the coffin and stared at the darkly panelled walls. It was so dark, so cold, just like you'd expect a funeral home to be. Despite that, though, it all felt somehow wrong. The feeling even extended to my sister, the young woman who looked so odd lying there. Her long black hair was pulled back in a bun, her face had been painted generously with makeup, and they'd dressed her in a tasteful blue gown.

The problem was, Fiona had never, EVER, looked liked that when she was alive. Never, not once, in almost twenty-seven years.

"Deebbbrrraaa . . ."

Shifting slightly to the side, I threw one naked arm over my eyes and settled deeper into sleep. The soft voice was nothing more than an unwelcome intrusion at that point, a faint echo to my dream-addled senses. Deep down, I think I recognized it right away, but that faint glimmer of hope was well-and-truly buried.

"Deeeebbbrrraaa . . ."

Again I shifted, this time rolling onto my side as the sweet call came a second time. The tiniest of smiles spread across my face as I felt the waves of my waterbed roll beneath me, warming and relaxing my tired body. Seconds later, though, a sudden, hazy dream of all the times Fiona had shared that sensation with me washed the smile away with a tear.

"Deebbbbrrrraaaaaa . . . "

This time I rolled over onto my front, moaning as my breasts pressed against the warm sheet beneath me. A moment later I was rolling back, scratching my naked belly as I came to lay face-up amid the mess of pink satin. It was the same soft, sweet voice as before that I was hearing, yet it somehow sounded more insistent. It was no louder, no harsher, nothing like that. I just sensed more . . . power, I guess, behind it.

"Deebbrrraaa . . . Debbrraaa . . ."

Finally, I fought to open my eyes, able no longer to resist the sweet siren song. It had seeped clear through my unconscious senses, first tainting, then claiming my dreams as its own, until it was all I could hear. Until it seemed to be all that I knew -- all I WANTED to know.

"Wha . . . ?" Smacking my lips softly, I yawned. "Mmmm, what is it?"

Now that I'd awakened, the voice was suddenly silent. That is, I told myself, if there had ever been a voice in the first place.

More fully awake now, I reached behind me and turned on my bedside lamp. Then, with the brass chain still caressing my hand, I froze. My mouth opened, moving almost imperceptibly, but words wouldn't come. All I could do was lay there and stare, gawk at something -- someone -- who should NOT have been there.

Someone who COULD not have been there, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise.

Floating directly above me, with barely a foot of space between us, was a . . . a woman. To my teary eyes, she appeared to be almost 7 feet tall, with limbs that stretched back and away as if seen through a carnival mirror. Her skin was pale, so pale, ash-white in the yellow glare of my lamp. Not colourless, like an albino, but with a distinct ash-white pigment. Gawd, the contrast between skin and hair was almost painful to behold. Long and natural, her free-flowing tresses were jet black with a shine like water that reflected ripples of light as it streamed out behind her.

Blinking away tears, I tried to focus on her face.

Her lips were the colour of blood, full and rich to the point where they almost looked swollen. And her eyes . . . they were pools of solid crimson, blood-red with darker maroon-shaded pupils. In the wrong lighting they would have been fearsome indeed, but I could have sworn I saw a tear or two glistening at the edges.

Unable to stare at that face for long -- I wanted TOO much for it to be familiar -- I forced my gaze to move downward. This strange, floating creature was dressed entirely in black, a shade so perfect it almost seemed to glow. I couldn't make out the material, but it seemed a thin gown, cut in a deep V-neck to display ash-white cleavage and just a hint of maroon areola. The back seemed solid, but loose, billowing out and away from her body in a subtle parody of a cape.

We remained like that for the longest time, neither of us moving, not even to draw breath. Until, with a crimson wink, she unsheathed her hands and reached down to caress my cheek. Gawd, her nails were like small obsidian daggers, two inches long and tapered to a point as fine as a needle, itself curving ever-so-slightly down.

I felt the blood come rushing to my cheeks -- they felt so hot against her chill touch -- and gasped. "No . . . no . . . no . . ." Denying the vision before me, I shook my head softly, then watched as she pulled slowly back and away. Still whimpering, I saw that each nail possessed one serrated edge, a row of tiny black teeth that warned of a darker side to her unearthly beauty.

"No . . ." I gasped again. "Sh-she's dead."

The woman above me smiled sadly.

"Dead, dead," I whispered. "Dead and gone."

"No . . . not gone." There it was, the soft voice that had called to me in my dreams. The sweet song I knew so well, but had tried not to remember.

"W-w-why?" I tried to ask more, but my throat was swollen tight from my sobbing.

Suddenly, she was sobbing too. "Because I love you," she whispered softly. "Because I never wanted for us to be apart." As I felt her bitterly-cold tears fall like ice to shatter against my cheeks, she said "Because we are sisters. Sisters . . . forever."

With a breathless cry, I pulled her down atop me, wrapping my arms around her frozen flesh. My teeth were chattering, my own flesh was covered in goosebumps, and I was shivering beneath my sheets, but none of that mattered. I still didn't understand how, but it was my sister I was holding, and I would have slept naked in a snowstorm just to see her again.

"Oh, Fiona!" Laughing and crying at the same time, I pressed my lips to hers, giving her the goodbye kiss I'd been too busy to bestow a few days earlier. For a moment, it was as if I could feel my breath being sucked from my lungs, but the sensation soon passed. "My gawd, what happened?" Hugging her close again, I asked "How are you here?" Suddenly, the questions lodged hard in my throat, unable to make their way past the lump of fear. There was only one question that mattered, one thing I had to know above all others, no matter how much it hurt.

"Fiona?" I whispered. "H-how long can . . . can you . . . stay?"

"Forever," she smiled. Her crimson eyes suddenly bright as fire, she said "If you'll have me, sis, we need never part again."

Slowly, I raised one shaking hand to her face, brushing strands of black hair from her cheek. There was a question hidden behind her response, a favour she was silently begging of me, of that I was sure. I wasn't sure what it was, but that I would accept, that I would give anything to be with her, was certain. "Forever," I smiled. "Whatever it takes."

"You have no idea how much I wanted to hear those words."