Xander pulled the robe a little tighter, trying to ward off the chill of the needles and pins that danced an endless ballet over his skin as he obeyed. The footsteps ran along the third level balustrade, where the floor was tilted slightly inward so rain would fall into the fountain of the inner courtyard far below. He was sure as he hurried along behind that, occasionally, the footsteps were hopping up from the floor of the long balcony and actually running along the granite railing itself before jumping back down again—a sort of leapfrog children’s game with itself.

Itself. Fear coursed through him as he realized he wasn’t even sure what he was following. His frantic pace slowed to a stop and he whirled around, suddenly very aware of his foolishness. The footsteps seemed to sense this, and he imagined whomever they belonged to turned and paused before encouraging again with a haunting whisper, “Follow.”

They darted quickly for the observatory tower stairwell and echoed loudly as they ascended. Xander knew he had lost his reason the moment he began to follow this phantom in the first place. He had been without direction, devoid of feeling for weeks, and he didn’t know why but felt it was imperative he did what this spirit asked. Placing one foot in front of the other, he chased the footsteps as they echoed round and round up the staircase to the rooftop observatory. The tie from his robe fell away in his haste and the blue and gold satin streamed out behind him, like a superhero’s cape in frantic pursuit of an archenemy. As he reached the circular dome the sound of footsteps stopped, and an eerie silence tickled his ears, and then the world came rushing in.

He could see clear out to the white-capped dark waves lapping the beach. Music and the voices of hundreds rose up from the street and nightclubs below, buzzing around him. Xander closed his eyes and inhaled the warm, moist air of the Miami summer night and suddenly felt strong arms circle around from behind his waist and draw him near.

The cool, cedar scent of Hephaestion’s favorite cologne floated like incense around him and he knew that he was safe. Leaning his head back on the phantom’s shoulder, he glanced at the star-filled night sky as silent tears fell in tiny rivulets down his cheeks.

“Live, Xander.…”

And as he turned to meet his lover’s face one more time, he felt the arms melt into the gentle sea breeze as if they were never there. The world pressed in around him and he knew he was alone now, that he wouldn’t receive another visitation; but the message had been clear.

Live. And so he vowed to do just that.

Narcissus