The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance

night, Isabel had come with him, sitting and watching, her face dreamy in the starlight. They’d talked about their plans, about their life together, never imagining it could end so soon.
    Now, as he looked about the lantern room, everything appeared the same. When he peered through the windows towards Neptune’s Bay, he saw that the rain had closed in. He started to pace around the light, as he used to, lost in his own thoughts.
    Izzy unlocked the lighthouse door. The wood was thick and marked by time, and sometimes the damp warped it so that it stuck at the bottom. Today was one of those days, and she used her shoulder to force it open. The air inside was cool and still, and the portrait met her gaze from the opposite wall. As if he’d been waiting for her.
    “Good morning, Zek,” she said softly.
    Good morning, Isabel.
    “I dreamed about you again. At least, I think it was a dream.”
    Tell me about it.
    “There was a storm and the steamer was heading for the rocks and then the sea monster came up out of the waves and I knew you were going to die. I didn’t want you to die. I didn’t want you to leave me.”
    The portrait seemed to understand.
    “And then, this morning, it was as if you were there with me, in my bed. How can that be?”
    He had no answer.
    “I feel so lonely here without you,” she whispered. “I don’t care if you are a dream, I want you back.”
    There was a sound.
    Startled, Isabel looked up.
    There it was again - a thumping noise. The sound of the trapdoor into the lantern room closing! Even as Izzy began to move towards the stairs, she heard footsteps coming down. There was someone else in the lighthouse.
    The hairs rose on her arms despite her warm sweater. She was unable to move, her feet rooted to the floor, as the steps came closer. A hand rested on the railing above her, a masculine hand. Suddenly, now she could move. Fear sent her stumbling towards the door, her hands grasping for the latch, but the warped wood was stuck fast. She heaved at it, gasping, making little sounds of terror. It wouldn’t budge.
    The man was coming closer, his steps echoing throughout the lighthouse like approaching thunder.
    Izzy spun around, her back to the door, ready to fight for her life, just as he came around the last twist in the stairs. He was breathing quickly, his chest rising and falling. She saw it all: the eyepatch, the old-fashioned clothes, the so-familiar face.
    “Isabel?” he said, and his voice was exactly as she heard it in her dreams.
    Zek Cole was standing before her and he was smiling, his drawn face alight at the sight of her. He knew her, just as she knew him.
    “How can this be?” she managed. “You’re really here.”
    “I really am,” he said softly, as if afraid he might send her running in terror. “The Sorceress is the queen of time and, if she wishes it, time can be made meaningless. She’s brought us together again.”
    “Again? But I’m not your wife . . .” Then why did she feel as if she was?
    “You are my wife.” He said it fiercely. “The Sorceress told me you had been reborn, while I remained sleeping in the between-worlds, but it makes no difference. We were made to be together.”
    Too much information, she thought shakily, too much to take in. “The Sorceress?”
    “I asked her to reunite us, and in return I must face the monster Neptune and help her to capture him.”
    Suddenly it was all too real. Izzy shook her head.
    He was moving closer, and there was no humour in his dark eye, only love and longing. “I have been waiting to see you again.”
    “I’ve been waiting too,” she said. “I’m so glad ... so glad you’re here at last.”
    Emotion overwhelmed her, and she pushed herself away from the door and ran on trembling legs into his arms. He was wiry and strong, his body hard from years of physical work, but he held her as if she were something very precious, and his breath against her cheek was warm and alive. Just as it always was in her dreams.
    “You’re mine,” he said, “and I am yours.”
    She believed him. As fantastical as his words were, she felt their truth at her very core.
    Izzy turned her face, her lips brushing his. He cupped the back of her head in his palm and began to kiss her. Deep, passionate, longing kisses.
    “All the years alone,” he murmured, pressing his face to her hair, kissing her temples, her cheeks. “Lying sleeping in the between-worlds, and waiting. And now I’ve found you again,