Body Temperature and Rising - Book One of the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy by K. D. Grace

cheeks along with the moist glow caressing her face told Marie whatever the woman had been doing, it was enough for her to break a sweat. She wore a black robe of raw silk tied carelessly about her waist. 
    ‘Come on. We’re all in the kitchen making something to eat.’ She grabbed Marie’s hand and practically dragged her through the Victorian parlour. ‘Fiori and Sky are dying to meet you after all they’ve heard. We were planning to invite you over for dinner, but after what happened, now seemed like a better time. Fiori, Sky, look who’s here.’ 
    She propelled Marie into the kitchen straight into the arms of the red-head, the one whose neck had been snapped in her dream. And suddenly the heat in Marie’s pelvic girdle felt like a blast from a kiln, too hot to be contained. It crackled up her spine to the base of her skull, taking her breath away as it went. She cried out and stumbled backward, nearly knocking a coffee mug off the counter. The blonde, who scurried around sorting cutlery and pouring juice, stepped forward to steady her. At her touch, the sensation leapt as though someone had poured petrol on the flames. Marie yelped and pushed her away, shoving back until the edge of the granite island in the middle of the kitchen bit into her hip. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes. The dream flashed through her head, the snapping of Fiori’s neck, the tossing of the ship, the fire, the man with the bullwhip. It was as though the bottom had dropped out of the universe. 
    ‘You’re ghosts,’ she managed. Goose flesh erupted up her arms and cold sweat broke on her forehead and between her breasts. ‘You’re both ghosts.’ She forced the words up through her constricted throat, words she barely heard over the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
    It was Anderson who stepped forward and offered her his calm dark gaze. ‘You must relax into the sensation, my love. Relax into their presence as you did mine and the feeling will dissipate, will even become rather pleasant, if you allow it.’ 
    She dropped onto a stool and waited for the usual heart palpitations and the shortness of breath while the three ghosts and Tara watched her. Nothing happened. Tara moved between the frozen tableau that could have passed as a sculpture in its stillness. She handed Marie one of the glasses of juice that Sky had poured. Marie took it and sipped. No panic attack, even though if there was ever a time for one she would have thought this would be it. She handed the glass back to Tara. ‘You’re the only one who’s not a ghost?’
    Tara nodded.
    ‘Does Tim know?’ She asked Fiori. 
    ‘No,’ the redhead said. ‘I wasn’t dead when Tim Meriwether and I had sex.’
    ‘You had sex with him? He didn’t tell me that.’
    Fiori offered a wry smile. ‘You can hardly expect him to talk about the woman he fucked with the woman he hopes to fuck. Besides,’ colour rose up her pale cheeks, ‘I’m not welcome at Lacewing Farm any more. None of us is.’
    ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Marie said, ‘Really, I am, but I need an explanation.’
    ‘And you’ll get one,’ Tara said, ‘after you eat. After we all eat.’ Before Marie could protest, Tara raised her hand. ‘Magic demands a lot of energy; therefore it’s always followed by food. It’s not optional, especially not after what you’ve been through. End of discussion.’
    As much as Marie wanted to be stubborn about it, her stomach growled, and her mouth watered as Sky began cooking bacon. 

    By the time everyone had eaten their fill and Fiori had topped off coffee and teacups again, all the polite questions about how Marie liked the Lake District had been asked, and all of the suggestions for great fell walks she wouldn’t want to miss had been made. She had been assured that yes, ghosts in the flesh did enjoy a good fry-up now and then. She had been given a full description of the herbal shop the Elementals ran in town, even though Sky and Fiori were both