[This is a deleted scene from Death by Dawn. I had to take it out because of a continuity error.]



ASCENSION

Spring was rapidly becoming summer; and the flowers in the yard shed a few petals that floated gently on the wind. The heavy heads of grain were nodding in the breeze, and all around life was moving in time.
Mort felt like Death, not unhappy, but isolated from the riot of color and growth. He sat on the lowest step and made little circles in the dry earth with his bare feet. He turned his empty eyes skyward, where snow white clouds were moving their fleecy forms across the canopy of the heavens.
He was dimly aware of the squeal and thump of the screen door behind him. He heard the squeaking of the old, dry floorboards.
Dawn eased down beside him, and edged close. She looked to where his skull was pointed, and in the silence, birds twittered in the cypress trees.
Mort sockets snapped and opened as if blinking. He looked at Dawn’s bare feet beside his, and turned to face her. She put her hand on his thighbone, her delicate fingers wrapped almost completely around it.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” She asked.
Mort savored the feel of her warm hand around his cold bone, letting the silence stretch out between them. Watching her search his face for some clue, and find no answers on his naked skull. He nodded mutely, and she smiled like a sunrise on the sea.
She drew him upward, and for a moment, there was a flash of heat as they brushed one another.
She led him down the walk and into the field. Fording a path betwixt the tufted heads of wheat. The warmth of the sun made Mort drowsy and the swish of Dawn’s long skirt became hypnotic. Moving as if in a dream, captivated by the play of light on her bare shoulders.
The oak emerged suddenly, appearing like a specter in the endless waves of grain. The tree was tall and broad, but bending under the weight of a hundred years. Dawn stopped beside it, running her fingers over the rough bark. She slid to the ground and looked up at him, her radiant smile framed by the lush green grass. Mort slipped down beside her. He had so much to say, but the words would not come. She looked like an angel.
She reached out to him, taking his hand in her own. He caressed her soft fingers and lifted her hand to kiss it. Touching it briefly to his lipless teeth.
Dawn moved closer, leaning on him, and he felt her warm breath slip between his ribs like the wind in the trees. Dawn could taste his fear; it was writ large in his every tentative movement. She felt him hesitate, a tiny tremor as she lay against his bones. And then his hand, cold and hard, lit like a falling leaf on her shoulder.
She needed him like no one ever had. Craved the feel of his aura mingling with hers. Dawn didn’t care that he was a ghost, and she had walked with Death himself too long to fear the touch of the undead. And there he sat, the virgin, innocent as a child, but pared down to the bone. Unable to breathe, sleep, or bleed, face fixed forever in a grim parody of a smile. Mort ran his skinny fingers through his hair, and looked sheepishly into her staring eyes.
He met her gaze for a moment and then averted his eyes in shame. “What do you want from me, Dawn?”
“I don’t know that I want anything. But being close to you makes me happy.”
“There must be more,” he insisted, it was written in her eyes.
“Then kiss me, and that will be enough.” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his jawbone, pulling him to her mouth. Drinking his soul with a passionate kiss.
But Mort couldn’t enjoy her affection; he was gripped with the anxiety of a man who has forgotten his wallet. Beneath his kilt was only his pelvis. His carved bone was still resting in the box beside the bed. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that as it would always be hard so then would he, and as such, it would in time, pain him greatly. Running to fetch it would not help either; it would spoil the magic of the evening. The sun was already burning like an ember on the horizon, with a risen moon following close behind.
“Dawn, I…”
“Yes love?”
He wrung his hands. “There is something crucial that I am currently… lacking.”
She looked crestfallen. “I understand,” and she drew back with a sigh, leaning fully against the tree. Mort felt terrible, but it was then that the idea came in a flash.
“Dawn? May I have a little of your power?”
She shrugged, grasping his outstretched hand.
Mort pulled as Dawn had taught him, drew chi from her, and the very earth beneath him, gathering it within his jaw. Setting his sockets alight with stars and filling his mouth with a greenish light. He focused all that was left of him and the glow died away. The energy ran outward like water from a sieve and he le his jaw fall gently open.
Floating there within was a tongue connected to nothing at all. It was a semi-solid construction of chi alone, but pale green from the ethereal fire. He poked it out and looked at it cross-eyed.
Dawn hid her pride and just smiled knowingly at his good work.
He looked at her, and leaned in close. Mort licked the side of her face, heart-wrenchingly slow, and it set her all a-tremble. It was as if he was touching her soul, and the auric energies crackled around the contact. Her pleasure was intense and she kissed him again, this time parting his mouth. Their tongues jockeying, vying for dominance. They pulled at one another, hands finding pale flesh, bone and hair to hold. He parted her shirt, circling her nipples while she moaned softly. He drew down further, tracing the curve of her belly. She shivered, her aura aflame with energy and passion. But he delved yet deeper, slipping beneath her skirt. And Dawn cried out.
Birds exploded from the tree in a fright. They seemed to lead the darkness, as both the sun and her lover, went down.
Dawn felt the power building within, awakening in the base of her being. Each chakra opening like a blooming flower in a burst of radiance. Red poppy, tiger lily, golden mum, heart and throat filling with light. Purple rose, and then the crown opened. The thousand-petaled lotus of light glowing like an archangels halo. A small cry escaped her lips, and then like a snake, he struck. Jabbing her more deeply then humanly possible. Her pleasure was like electricity, filling every fiber of her being.
But she reached for him and grabbed his collarbones in her fists. Mort stiffened as she pulled him up, staring blankly into her dark eyes.
“See me.” She whispered.
Mort met her gaze fully and she drove the chi like a stake into his being. A ball of eldritch light formed where organs had once hung, and shot in a spiral up his spine. His hair flew back in a nimbus of gold, every strand lit from within. Mort had never felt anything like it before, and in that moment he tasted the bliss of both Nirvana and oblivion. It was a true orgasm of the soul.
The power left so swiftly that he almost fell, but Dawn still gripped his bones. She drew him close, cradling his dead body against her own warm flesh. His poor spent soul snuggled within his bones, and the enfolding embrace of Dawn’s love.

*copyright by author*