Free The Everlasting by Tim Lebbon

She was startlingly sexy, an effect exaggerated more by the fact that she seemed not to know. This was all very natural to her.
    The woman opened her eyes. “I’m immortal,” she said. “I’m one of a dozen. We’ve been looking for the Chord of Souls for some time.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œEver since it went missing.”
    â€œHow long ago was that?”
    â€œJust after we wrote it.”
    â€œAnd how long ago was that?”
    The woman took another sip of coffee and sighed. “Too long for you to believe. And I need you to believe me, and trust me, if you’re going to help.”
    â€œYou’ve just told me that you’re immortal, and I’m supposed to believe and trust you?”
    â€œDid you believe in ghosts before yesterday, Scott?”
    â€œYes. No. I . . .” Scott was angry at the doubt in his voice, but it was genuine. Papa had given him the gift of an open mind, and yet in many regards Scott had remained skeptical. In a strange way, the appearance of Lewis just after the funeral had rooted that skepticism in a strong foundation. It was a contradictionthat had confused him for thirty years. He had seen a ghost; therefore, he found it difficult to believe in them. He’d tried to convince himself that it was something to do with faith, or lack of it, or the belief in something wider, but really it was rooted far deeper than that. His disbelief was a facet of the fear he had in a world where Papa no longer existed. He would never again hear Papa call hello through an open back door, never hear his laugh, never go out with him on his birthday, never see the old man’s scrawl inside his birthday cards, never kiss him or disagree with him or sit and listen to old tales that sometimes may have been true.
    â€œDo you believe in ghosts this morning?”
    Scott looked out into the garden and thought about muttering those singsong words. But maybe even they were simply a spell, something hypnotic and misleading that—
    The woman sighed and Scott’s world shifted sideways. The ghosts appeared and everything felt larger, more able to encompass the truth of things. She sighed again and the world returned to what he was used to.
    â€œOf course I do,” he said. “One of them just took my wife.”
    â€œHe’s not a real ghost,” the woman said, “but that doesn’t matter. Your belief does. Belief can save your life.”
    â€œWho
are
you?” Scott asked again.
    â€œMy name is Nina.”
    Nina?
Scott raised his eyebrows. Was she fooling with him? “Strange name for someone who’s been alive for so long.”
    â€œI change it every couple of hundred years.” She sipped more coffee, and there was not an ounce of sarcasm or humor in her voice. She was simply stating a fact.
    Scott continued to shake. His nose and eyes burned, and the weakness had not been touched by sips of his sweet coffee. Tears formed and fell, and he could not hold back a sob.
    Nina seemed embarrassed. She did not step around the breakfast bar to comfort him, nor did she speak. She took another drink and left him to cry.
    â€œYou say you can help,” he said. “So fucking help!”
    Nina nodded, finished her drink, and then stood from the stool. “Pack a bag,” she said. “We can talk while we drive.”
    â€œDrive where?”
    Nina shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll know when we get there.”
    â€œYou’re taking this very well.” She sat in the passenger seat, having declined his request that she drive.
    â€œApart from breaking down in tears and my heart feeling as though it’s ready to explode in my chest?”
    â€œAh, it won’t do that. Strong, hearts. Resilient.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI collect them.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOh. Sorry. Something for later, perhaps. But I mean it, your reaction is . . . strong. Not just the missing-wife thing,