All he could do was stand in the doorway and stare at the portrait hanging on the wall across from him. JC's backpack was dangling from his right hand, a dead weight he didn't even noticed. He closed the door with his foot and walked across the room, dragging the backpack with him.
The picture was of a young woman about twenty. She was outside, lying on her stomach under a tree. Her dark hair was down and tumbled luxuriously down her back. There was a serious but playful look on her face. Her dress was a beautiful shade of light blue and her eyes a shade lighter.
And her hands. They had to be the most amazing hands JC had seen in his life. Long, sexy fingers. He briefly wondered what it would be like to feel them on his body.
He shook the thought away.
It would never happen. The portrait was too old.
His eyes traveled down to the date. August 9, 1886.
JC walked over to the bed and dropped his backpack. He sat on the bed and bent down to untie his shoes. One was off when he heard a soft, seductive voice say,
"Hello, I'm Katrina."
JC slowly removed the other shoe and looked up. There she was, looking exactly the way she did in the painting. He stared.
"Aren't you…dead?" he asked.
Katrina nodded.
"Yes. But I am yet to leave this world." She paused and looked into his eyes. "Do you understand?"
"No."
Katrina reached out, took JC's hand and pulled him from the bed. "I will show you." She brought him into her world.
Chapter 5
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