Her lips press into a thin line. “Is this the conception of the Crane boy?”
Dominic narrows his gaze. “What is she saying? I can feel her presence, but she’s blocking me out.”
I glance his direction. “I don’t think she’s impressed with your plan.”
He shrugs, as if he expected as much.
“Dominic thinks he might be able to help our family. But he feels the only way to do that is by leveling up his powers,” I say, choosing my words carefully. If Abigail knows this could be to the benefit of our lineage, she’ll be more inclined to help.
Stepping away from me, she wrings her hands and shakes her head. “This is a most dreadful idea. The eternal law of self-preservation may prevent any of this—”
“But is he right? Is it possible for him to increase his powers this way?” I ask, suddenly intensely curious.
If he can, does that explain Cat’s new ability to manipulate electricity as well as fire?
Abigail steels herself for a moment, then turns back to me. “It is risky, to be certain. He must lift the veil, separating himself from the earthly and astral planes. He must voyage to the other side, connecting with the source of his powers, before being summoned back. Should any of these pieces go wrong…”
“But it’s possible,” I say, latching onto the one thing that gives me a glimmer of hope.
Her lips press tightly, but she nods.
Dominic steps forward, his eyes sweeping around the stone chamber. “Abigail, I know this probably sounds insane to you, but it’s important. Trust me.”
His final words resonate with such strong sentiment, I suck in a breath. He’s desperate to do this, but he truly believes this is the only way. Whether it’s for himself, or for the sake of my family, I don’t know. But if the results are the same, I don’t care.
Abigail’s forehead creases, but she drops her chin and whispers. “There is a way for a necromancer to help lift the veil for another.”
“Good—that’s good. Right?” I say.
“What is it?” Dominic asks.
I hold up an index finger to have him wait a moment.
“The magic is but a remnant; however, I am quite certain it would do as you ask,” she says.
“Fine,” I say, shaking my head. “What do we need to do?”
Apprehension and anxiety roll themselves into one big ball in my stomach, and my imagination rolls through different ways I might have to employ to kill Dominic. I shudder them away.
“As necromancers, our natural state is to tread lightly between the world of the living and that of the dead. The veil is not an obstacle for us the way it is for most. If a soul is coaxed from a body with the correct potion, it will simulate death, and we may be able to guide it across from this side. However, should his soul linger there for too long…” Her voice lowers in a warning.
“He won’t be able to return,” I finish for her.
She nods.
Dominic’s eyes widen as he watches me.
Turning to him I say, “Abigail thinks it can be done. But it’ll take time. We need to create a potion, I guess. Something that will force your soul from your body.”
Dominic’s face pulls in tight and he reaches into his jeans pocket. “You’ve gotta understand, I’ve felt this coming for a while. Okay? But today, I went into a trance trying to find my way to make this work and when I came to, I had written some ingredients on a piece of paper,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what it was, but I figured I’d use it as my last resort if you didn’t help. Guess that wasn’t why I was called to create it.”
He reaches his hand out, dropping a small vial into my palm. I pick it up, spinning it between my fingertips. The liquid glows with a strange purple, glittery energy. Holding it out to Abigail, I ask, “Does this look like the potion we need? Or is this something else?”
Abigail steps forward, peering into the depths of it. After a moment, she nods. “It appears to be so. Does the Crane boy remember its contents?”
“She wants to know what’s in it,” I say, relaying the message.
Dom shrugs. “Not much, really. Lavender, lemon mixed with holy water, and powdered belladonna root. Oh, and a drop of my blood, for some reason.”
Abigail watches him closely. “What of its creation? Was it warmed with the Necrosis Flame?”
“Did you use the Necrosis Flame to stew the ingredients?” I ask, sighing heavily.
“What the hell is the Necrosis Flame? That sounds like it should be your area of expertise, not mine,” he sputters.
Immediately, any hopes that we might have an easy way out of this are dashed. I turn back to Abigail, who says, “All is not lost. The Crane boy is right; this is more our area of expertise.”
“Okay?” I say, enclosing the vial in my palm.
“The Necrosis Flame can be summoned by a necromancer for various reasons. Some are intentional, while others are not. In a necromancer, it often springs forth as visual indicator or warning system that someone’s life force is in a state of active disturbance. But when used intentionally, it produces an ethereal flame capable of brewing the Feign Death Potion,” she says, tipping her chin high as she clasps her hands behind her back.
“The Feign Death Potion?” I say, practically laughing at the name.
“Is that what this is?” Dominic asks.
I nod. “Almost.”
“Because I am no longer of the living, I cannot spring forth this flame, but you can, my dear. You simply need to concentrate on it to make it happen,” Abigail says, beginning to pace.
“Concentrate? Like with the astral projection? Or—?”
“Have you never felt a time when the Necrosis Flame was triggered unintentionally?” she asks.
Shaking my head, I snicker. “Not that I can think of.”
But suddenly, my wry laughter is cut short as I think of all those times with Colton.
“What is it?” Abigail asks, narrowing her gaze.
Inhaling a deep breath, I tilt my head, shifting through all of the times the flames erupted with Colton. “I think maybe I have, actually.”
“Good, then you know its vibration. I want you to close your eyes and call upon it.”
Doing as I’m told, I close my eyes, thinking about Colton and the flames. I have no idea the flames were a warning about his life force—and it suddenly has me worrying that he might not be as immortal as everyone thinks he is.
However, when I open my eyes, I look down to find my hand consumed by the same orange and blue flames. And though it’s fully engulfed by it, my hand is completely unscathed. However, inside my palm, the contents of the vial begin to boil.
I stare down at the bubbling liquid until, abruptly, the flames go out.
“I believe we can now proceed,” she says, her face stoic. “But do so cautiously.”
Nodding to her, I turn to Dominic and hold the vial back out to him.
“I have no idea what just happened. You know that, right?” he mutters, accepting the small glass object.
“That’s okay. All you need to know is we’re ready to go now,” I say.
“He will wish to be lying down before drinking the potion. It takes but seconds to work,” Abigail says, continuing to pace around the room like a caged animal.
“Dominic, lie down on the floor, then drink the potion,” I say, pointing to the middle of the room.
Without another thought, he tips his chin in acknowledgement, then moves to sit down. Uncorking the top, he doesn’t even verify the timing or go over the plan again. He just slams the contents and lets the empty vial clatter across the ground.
He opens his mouth, probably to say something, but his eyes immediately roll to the back of his head. I dash over, reaching him just in time to ease his torso to the ground.
“Now, you must focus on summoning his soul from his body. See in your mind’s eye walking with him through the veil from this world to the next, but do not allow yourself to be pulled with him. Y
ou must stay on this side in order to awaken him,” Abigail says, her furrowed eyebrows scrunched in thought.
“Nothing to it,” I whisper to myself, unsure any of this is a good idea at all. But at least it’s in motion and I have no choice but to make this work.
Still kneeling beside him, I close my eyes and focus on calling Dominic’s soul from the confines of his body. Behind my eyelids a bright, blue orb forms.
“Good. Very good,” Abigail mutters her approval. There’s a strange admiration in her tone and I know this must be something she wishes she could do for herself.
I settle into the energy, allowing it to fill up my perception. It’s not all that unlike astral-projecting, but it feels different. Denser somehow. It doesn’t take long to latch onto Dominic’s energy, but rather than forming as a person, I continue to see the blue orb within my mind’s eye. A silver string also extends from the orb, making its way out of the darkness. Suddenly, as if the orb knows what it needs to do, it sails out and away from me. It vanishes through time and space, pulled somehow into what seems like a black hole. However, the silver string remains, floating like chemtrails in the air.
When I open my eyes, I realize it’s attached to his abdomen.
“The rest is now up to him,” Abigail says. “He had but moments, so be ready.”
I nod, exhaling a tense breath.
While astral-projecting is similar, walking to the edge of the veil was something else. There was a darkness beyond—an energy that consumed all light, if you weren’t careful. And I’m not sure whether or not sending Dominic into that was a wise choice.
“It is time,” Abigail says. “Summon the boy back.”
Nodding to her, I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Unlike when I tried to bring Cat back, there’s a deep, powerful connection—like a direct line that binds us together. I can already tell that I don’t need some of the other ingredients, like the blood—or even the invocation. His soul, the bright blue orb, is right before me. All I need to do is encourage him to return to his vessel.
Like a conductor, I raise my arms in front of me, trying to guide it back to where it belongs.
“That’s it,” Abigail says, her voice lifting in tone. “Continue with the intention.”
Exhaling any nervous energy, I focus on the orb, directing it lower. When it reaches Dominic’s body, it hovers there. Rather than sinking back into his body, the energy is more like two magnets with opposing forces trying to connect.
“Something is not right,” I say, narrowing my gaze and trying harder.
“He is choosing to stay separated,” Abigail says, her eyes distant.
“What?” I spit. “Why would he do that?”
Abigail shakes her head. “Of that, I do not know.”
“Goddammit, Dominic,” I cry out, dropping to my knees and shaking his body. “Get your ass back to me. You promised you’d help me.”
A new kind of panic flashes through me and I rake my fingers through my hair.
What is he doing? This is the last thing I need right now and he knows that.
So, why the hell won’t he come back?
Chapter 15
The Other Side
My blood boils, and I imagine the various ways I’m going to kick Dominic’s ass when I finally get him back.
“Come back. Right now,” I cry out, clutching at his shoulders and shaking his torso. The silver string remains, but with each passing moment, it seems to fade.
His body is limp and the edges of his lips are taking on a faint bluish tint.
I shake my head in disbelief. “Oh, no you don’t…”
Closing my eyes, I try to tap into universal energies and the deeper parts of my gifts—parts I didn’t know existed, as I try to summon him back. Without thinking about the words, they spring to my lips. “Dominic Crane—wandering soul, I summon you back from the realm of the dead. Return, fragments of soul and self, from that of the spirit realm, to re-inhabit the body.”
I open my eyes and for a brief moment, the blue orb of light grows brighter, but it doesn’t get any closer to his body.
“Fuck,” I spit, slamming the side of my fist into the dirt. “What am I doing wrong?”
“This is of no one’s doing but his own. The boy is refusing to come back,” Abigail whispers feverishly beside my ear.
“How do I get him back?” I say through gritted teeth.
Abigail’s lips press tight and she shakes her head.
“Don’t you dare tell me there’s no way,” I say, reeling on her. “There has to be a way. I’ll drag him back kicking and screaming if I have to.”
Her eyebrows tug in and her nostrils flare as if the thought of it is distasteful. However, she whispers, “If you are to stand any chance, it would come at great risk.”
I’m suddenly on my feet. “How do I do it?” I demand.
Abigail’s expression is grim as she says, “Your soul must leave your body to follow after him.”
“So, how is that any different from what I’ve been doing? Astral projection and all that. Hell, what I just did—” I start.
“It is not the same. You leave this plane of existence entirely to enter the realm of the dead. There’s only one way to do that,” she says, frowning.
My fingers curl into fists as I glare at her. “Would you spit it out already? We’re running out of time.”
“It’s not your consciousness that travels with this. It’s your soul. Should you go there, you risk not coming back,” she says, setting her jaw. “It takes a strong will to return to the living without an anchor on this side.”
“So, be my anchor,” I say, as if the answer to the question was completely obvious.
She shakes her head. “I cannot. I’m not of this plane. I’m somewhere between.”
“Great, just…great,” I say, walking away from her and nodding to myself. “Well, looks like I have no other choice. It’s now or never.”
“Autumn,” she says, the warning lingering in my name.
I wave a hand, dismissing her worry. “Hey, I’ve done it once, right? Why not go two for two?”
She inhales sharply. “This is not a game, child.”
“Then I guess I better get to work.” Determination settles around me and I know she feels it. “Are you going to help me get this started?”
Abigail paces for a moment, wringing her hands. If she could be any more pale, I would swear she had lost a little more color. But finally, she tips her head. “I will do what I can. But the rest will be unto you.”
“Deal,” I say, nodding.
She returns the gesture, setting her concerned gaze on me. “Do you remember how it felt to be at the veil’s edge?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good,” she tips her chin. “Go there again. When you arrive, cross the threshold. But brace yourself. That will be the moment when your soul will disentangle itself.”
“What should I expect?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
She shakes her head. “Of that I do not know.“ Her arms sweep out, suggesting to herself.
“Oh, right.”
“You should contact someone. A living relative or—”
“No, absolutely not. There’s no time,” I say, cutting her off. “So, here goes nothing.”
For some reason, I’m compelled to lie down, so I do so. Resting next to Dominic, I reach out, grabbing hold of his hand, hoping it will act as a divining rod of sorts once I cross into the realm of the dead.
Anxiety and fears erupt in the middle of my solar plexus, but I push them down, refusing to give them space in my head. If I do, I know I’ll change my mind and everything will be lost.
Closing my eyes, I allow my body to relax until it feels as though it’s sinking into the dirt beneath me. Suddenly, I’m traveling beyond the confines of the resurrection chamber—whirling through the dense fog of the aether.
I follow the trail of Dominic’s silver string to the point where it disappears into nothingness. For a moment
, I wait, staring into the utter blackness beyond. This is the mystery of the ages—scholars and philosophers the world over have wanted to know what’s on the other side, and here I am, about to go through with no desire to share any of it with the world.
I just want my friend back.
Settling into my conviction, I push myself beyond the edge of the known and into the darkness. Everything about who I am and why I’m here is ripped from me as I plummet through the gloom. Who I am, all that I was, feels like it’s compressed and the pressure of it is beyond excruciating.
Almost as if my body was sucked down a drain and spat back out, I find myself somewhere else entirely. At first, nothing makes sense. There’s screaming coming from somewhere—and everywhere. One moment I’m in a dark tunnel, blood dripping from the walls. The next moment, I’m in the middle of a large field full of tiny blue flowers.
Then I’m back within a dark cavern space and gruesome figures cling to the walls, fighting with restraints only they can see.
Everything is dizzying and I can’t seem to find my bearings in this place.
I stumble backward as a man with half a face crawls out of the darkness. His bony, half-decomposed hand reaches out for me, clutching at my leg. I hop back, struggling to get out of his reach, only to realize he’s no longer there.
Groping at my chest, I take a deep breath, but it’s solely out of habit—because somewhere in the back of my perception, I realize I’m no longer in my body. I’m alive, but…not.
What does that make me?
The thought is a curious one, and I contemplate it for a moment, trying to remember what it was that brought me to this place.
Music plays somewhere, and I’m suddenly walking down a well-lit, open hallway toward it. It calls me at such a deep level, and the concept of it widens until it’s the only thing in the entire universe.
Drawn to it at such a deep level, I can’t imagine being anywhere where this music doesn’t exist. The simple thought of that makes my soul ache.
Soul.
The Windhaven Witches Omnibus Edition : Complete Paranormal Suspense Series, Books 1-4 Page 75