The Gateway Trackers Books 1 & 2

by E. E. Holmes

  “I think he meant it when he said he would keep our secret, so I think we should stay, for now. But I also think he’s impulsive and unpredictable—we should keep a really close watch on him.”

  “Agreed,” Milo said, floating back and forth over my outfits, “That boy is one unstable floater. I honestly don’t even know how he keeps his form. He’s half-ready to explode at any given moment.”

  “I know, he’s in rough shape,” I said, “which is why I was sort of… hoping you’d take him under your wings a little bit.”

  Milo looked up from the clothes and raised an eyebrow at me. “Wings? My wings? You know I only spread these babies for special occasions.”

  “I know. Did I mention they are beautiful, sparkly, and fabulous wings?” I said, batting my eyelashes at him.

  Momentarily placated, Milo replied, “The winged goddess is listening, proceed.”

  “You’ve seen how much anger that kid has toward his parents,” I said. “And I’m no Empath, but I can tell that a lot of that anger comes from pain. A deep, deep hurt, you know?”

  Milo’s smile vanished. “Yeah. I know.”

  “He needs to work through it, Milo, or he’ll never move on. He’ll just stay here, screaming without a voice at parents who didn’t want to hear him when he was alive, and can’t hear him now. He needs someone to talk to, and I think you are the best option.”

  Milo rolled his eyes as he fought between his need to be endlessly sassy and his cleverly disguised well of deep, painful emotions. “Ugh, girl why have you gotten so real on me all of a sudden? We were accessorizing! I was in my happy place!” He gestured down to the piles of expensive clothing and shoes.

  “I know. Sorry,” I said. To lighten things up, and sort of as an apology for steering him just a little too close to his own parental baggage, my next words became a custom-made-for-Milo gift. “What if I let you pick out the dress for tonight, no questions asked?”

  Milo smirked at me. “And the accessories?”

  “And the accessories,” I promised, solemnly putting up three fingers in a Boy Scouts-style salute.

  “Okay, okay, I will mentor the angsty floater,” said Milo, with a dramatic sound halfway between a groan and a sigh. “And you’re wearing the green dress with the gold lace-up heels and the gold clutch. Now point me toward the jewelry.”

  A few minutes before we needed to head downstairs for dinner, and thirty seconds after almost breaking my ankle for the fourth time, there was a knock on our door. I opened it to see Finn standing there, with a set of keys in hand.

  “I was hoping to… wow,” he said, before he could stop himself. A little breathlessly, he looked me over from head to foot.

  “Still sticking to the dress code, as ordered,” I said, fighting against the blush now infusing my cheeks. A blush, which I now realized, was coloring Finn’s face as well.

  “I… yes, of course. Right.” Finn shook his head a little and resettled his face into his characteristic scowl. “I do apologize, I only meant… you look quite… nice.”

  “Milo picked it out,” I said, as though I could thrust the awkwardness of the moment onto Milo, just so that it would stop suffocating me.

  “You don’t have to say it, I’m a genius,” Milo called from the bathroom, where he was instructing Hannah on how to arrange her hair.

  “Right. I only meant to say that I’m headed back to the Lafayette Boarding House for a bit. Iggy has some more information for me on the property, and I’m going to take a call from Catriona on the way, to update her and get any further instructions. I’ll be back later tonight.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “Well, good luck.”

  “You’ll all be alright until I get back?”

  “It’s just dinner, Finn. We can handle it,” I replied.

  “Yes. Well, I’ll just leave you to it, then, shall I?” he said, and, nodding to Hannah and Milo as they emerged from the bathroom, he turned and marched down the corridor.

  I shut the door on his retreat, because the image of him walking away from me was—to be honest—a little too metaphorically accurate. Hannah stood in the bathroom doorway, with her hair freshly braided, looking very pretty in a purple dress with tasteful Hawaiian flowers printed on it.

  “Finn’s leaving?” she asked, with an anxious edge to her voice.

  “Yes, but he’ll be back later tonight,” I said, as dismissively as I could. “Looking good, Hannah—and I’m not just saying that because you’re my twin. Is that… eyeliner I spy?”

  She pointed at Milo. “It’s his fault.”

  “And you’re welcome,” Milo sang.

  “Okay then, makeovers complete… so let’s get this over with. I’ve only got another hour or so before my feet explode out of these shoes,” I said. “Do we have a game plan?”

  “Mingle and chat, learn as much about the guests, the property, and Campbell as we can,” Hannah recited, as though reading from the back of a flash card.

  “And who’s better at mingling and chatting than us?” I said, flinging my arm around her shoulder. “The socially awkward twins! Let’s go rock this exercise in futility!” I shouted as our battle cry, before opening the door.

  We walked right into the icy cold blast that was Kyle Owens, who was hovering just outside our doorway.

  Hannah and I both leapt back, gasping in shock, then immediately tried to recover ourselves. We glanced up and down the hallway, which thankfully was entirely deserted by the living.

  “Kyle, what are you doing here? I told you to leave us alone, or you’re going to blow our cover!” I hissed.

  “I know, I know, I’m sorry! But I made sure no one was around, didn’t I?” he said defensively. “I have to tell you something!”

  “Okay okay, whatever, just get in here,” I said.

  “I can’t! I tried to come in, but something kept blocking me!” Kyle replied.

  “Oh, right, the Wards,” I muttered. A sudden sound, like the opening of a door, threw me into panic mode. “Come this way, hurry!” I said, and ran, with what I could only assume was the grace of a flamingo, across the hallway and into the utility closet directly across from our room. Hannah followed, and after I shut the door, Milo and Kyle flew through it to join us among the cleaning supplies.

  “What the hell are Wards?” Kyle asked.

  “Never mind, Kyle. All it means is that you can’t go into our room,” Hannah answered in a whisper. “What did you want to tell us?”

  “I wanted to make sure you were coming down to dinner. I heard one of the staff say that Campbell was going to make a speech, and I thought you’d want to see it,” Kyle answered.

  “Then I’m really happy that I’m in this supply closet right now instead of downstairs,” I growled.

  “Hey, the closet was your idea not mine,” Kyle said, crossing his arms. “I was just trying to help.”

  “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. So let’s get out of here before we miss Campbell’s speech. Milo, can you check if the coast is clear?”

  “Oh sweetness, coming out of the closet is my specialty!” Milo said with a dazzling grin. He poked his head through the door and pulled it back in. “We’re cleared for take-off!”

  “Good.” I threw the door open and marched awkwardly back out into the hallway. These heels were going to kill me.

  “So are those Ward things why I can’t get into the basement either?” Kyle asked as we walked toward the staircase.

  I stopped abruptly. “You can’t get into the basement?”

  “Nope. I tried to follow Campbell down there once, but I couldn’t do it. It was like an actual solid wall, for the first time since I died. It was really weird,” Kyle said.

  My sister and I exchanged a look that was equal parts shock and alarm. Wards here? At Whispering Seraph?

  “Is there any other way to keep spirits out of a space, other than Wards?” I asked Hannah, whose eyes were now wide with concern.

  Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think s
o. Not that I know of.”

  My next step would’ve been to ask Finn, but he was inconveniently absent, so I did the next logical thing. “Kyle,” I said, “can you take us to see that basement door?”

  “What, now?” Hannah asked, looking alarmed.

  “Yes, now! It’s the perfect time! Campbell is going to give a speech, so he’ll be in the dining room.”

  “Yes, but we need to be in the dining room, too! We need to hear that speech, whatever it is!” Hannah pointed out. “Why don’t we just wait until later?”

  I bit my lip. Hannah was right. There weren’t enough people staying at this place that our absence would go totally unnoticed. Plus, there were assigned tables for dinner.

  “Okay. You and Milo go to the dining room. I’ll follow Kyle to the basement stairs, just so we know where it is. I’ll be right behind you. Two minutes behind you, okay?” I said. Hannah had already opened her mouth to argue, so I added quickly, “Just tell them I had to change my shoes or something. God knows that’s true enough.”

  I squeezed Hannah’s hand, and—before she could say another word—I followed an eager Kyle down the stairs. I dodged a handful of people chatting in the lobby, then we ducked down a hallway I’d never been in before.

  “I feel like a spy,” Kyle said excitedly. “Like an FBI guy, or James Bond. Something like that.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, Kyle,” I murmured. A woman backed out of the closest door, carrying a tray of bread baskets. When she saw me, she did a sort of half-curtsy, while being careful not to send rolls tumbling all over the floor. Thankfully, she didn’t stop to ask what I was doing. I just smiled at her and kept walking.

  “Are we almost there?” I asked, as we turned a corner into a darker, narrower hallway.

  “Yeah, it’s just around this corner,” Kyle said.

  Kyle became harder to see in the half-light, but I followed him to the end of this last hallway. At the very end of the passage, a large, unpainted door stood like a sentinel guarding the basement.

  “That’s it,” Kyle said, with a disproportionate amount of triumph. He was a little too into this spy thing—this wasn’t a game, after all—but I let it go for the moment.

  I kept walking until I stood about four feet in front of the door. I looked it over from top to bottom. It seemed, on first examination, to be utterly unremarkable. Just a door, nothing more.

  “Kyle, let me see you try to go through it,” I said.

  “Sure,” he replied, and flung himself at the door with unnecessary force. He bounced away from it as if it were made of rubber. “See?” he said. “Nothing!”

  “Have you tried sinking down through the floor?” I asked.

  Kyle’s eyes widened. “Huh? No, I didn’t think of that! Wow, that would’ve been easier than bouncing off this door for an hour!” He aimed himself at the floor and tried to dive through it. Again he bounced backward, unable to pass through.

  “Okay, so it’s not just the door. It’s the whole basement. Campbell doesn’t want spirits down there at all,” I said, much more to myself than to Kyle.

  I took a few more tentative steps toward the door, closing the distance warily while half-expecting that I’d be flung backward as well. But the door’s only defense against me, as far as I could tell, was a normal one: It was padlocked shut.

  I examined the lock, then looked at the door itself more closely. I ran my fingers over the wood, from top to bottom, willing my senses to somehow detect the presence of a Casting.

  “Did you find it? Does it have Wards on it?” Kyle asked in a stage whisper.

  “I can’t tell. There might be…” I had just begun to feel something, just the slightest trembling, the lightest tingling of energy. Was I imagining it?

  I traced my fingers more closely along the grain, following the wood’s natural lines up to the edge of the padlock. And—without knowing why, but feeling compelled to just the same—I pushed the lock aside. A tiny, lightly carved rune in the shape of an eye stared up at me. I’d finally found the solid Durupinen connection we’d been searching for.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “What? What is it?” Kyle cried.

  “Ms. Taylor? Is that you?” asked a man’s voice.

  I dropped the padlock in shock and spun around. Jeremiah Campbell stood in the hallway behind me; his expression was both mystified and slightly amused. To his left, the door through which he had evidently just emerged was swinging closed. Thankfully, he was alone; his angel was nowhere in sight.

  I felt Kyle’s energy dissipate as he, in his own panic, vanished from my side.

  “What are you doing all the way back here?” Campbell asked. Did I imagine it, or was there an accusatory note in his voice?

  I froze as dread overtook me. I had no excuse. I had no cover story. The jig was up; we were going to be thrown from the gates of Whispering Seraph, and Campbell and his angel would continue sucking his devotees dry. I thrust a smile onto my face, hoping to buy myself a second to pull myself together.

  I recomposed that smile into one of relief. “Mr. Campbell! Oh, thank goodness you’re here!” I said, walking straight up to him and taking his hands in mine. He looked startled but didn’t pull away.

  “Ms. Taylor, what—”

  “I am so completely lost!”

  “Lost?” he said, bewildered.

  “So lost. Big surprise—I’ve probably got the worst sense of direction ever,” I said, adding a self-deprecating roll of the eyes. “Honestly, if I walk out of a store in the mall, I have to look for stores I’ve already been in so I can tell which way I’m going,” I babbled, drawing on every “helpless woman” stereotype I could think of. “It’s pathetic, really. Milo used to give me hell about it.” I paused here, as though mentioning Milo caused me pain.

  “There now, you know he’s here with you,” Campbell said, unable to restrain himself from snapping immediately into his role as a spiritual comforter, even under these odd circumstances.

  “I know that now, thanks to you,” I replied, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I was on my way down to dinner, and I decided to stop in the powder room first—only I couldn’t find it. Then I went completely the wrong way trying to head back to the lobby. So finally I followed a woman carrying a tray, thinking she was probably headed to the dining room. But she disappeared into a kitchen, I think, and so I just kept walking and… wound up here.”

  I finished my explanation, relieved that I’d managed to get through it without choking on my own words. I’d battled both the living and the dead; lived as a fugitive in the Traveler camp; rescued my sister and defeated the Necromancers; Crossed through the Gateway and back; toppled Freeman’s empire; and now I was the only living Walker on this planet, as well as an elite Durupinen Tracker. And those were just my career highlights. Did this guy really think I couldn’t navigate a hallway?

  Snapping me back into my role, Campbell, with the slightest suggestion of a condescending smile, asked, “And you thought the dining room might be behind a locked door?”

  “Well, no—by that point I was just kind of panicking,” I said with a shaky laugh. I swallowed my pride even further. “I thought it might be an emergency exit or something. Like I said, thank goodness you’re here. I get major anxiety when I’m lost, especially when I’m all by myself. Will you please rescue me, and escort me back to civilization?” I flashed him my very best set of puppy dog eyes, to reinforce my “helplessness.”

  Campbell’s expression cleared with his acceptance of my damsel-in-distress routine, and he gestured chivalrously back up the hallway. He offered me his arm, then began leading the way with a confident stride.

  Holy shit, he bought it. Shout out to patriarchal stereotypes for making that one possible.

  “I’m sorry you lost your way. I still haven’t even been down in that basement, and I’ve been here for nearly six months. Couldn’t even tell you what’s down there,” Campbell said. “I realize I should know, but I’ve
never liked basements much.”

  “Me neither,” I said, biting my tongue so that I wouldn’t accuse him of lying through his unnaturally bleached teeth. No one Warded a room they never intended to enter.

  “These big old Southern homes can be a bit like rabbit warrens. Charming if you know where you’re going, but a bit confusing to the outsider,” Campbell drawled as we strolled along.

  “Yes, I’ve seen that for myself. I really should carry around that map you provided with our schedules,” I said with an ingratiating smile.

  “They do come in handy at first, but I’m sure you’ll get your bearings in no time. Just give it another day or two. In the meantime, I shall be glad that you forgot it, as it has enabled us to have this nice little chat.”

  I swallowed back the impulse to slide my arm out of his, and instead nodded as demurely as I could. Campbell was now teetering on the precipice between Southern charm and lecherous old man, but I could hardly disengage now. I decided to let him keep talking, since he was so very fond of it.

  “How are you enjoying your stay so far? You and your sister?” he asked me cordially.

  “Oh…well, everything’s been really lovely. I’m not really sure if ‘enjoy’ is the word I’d use, just because of the reason we’re here, but…” I trailed off, again hoping that implied emotion would take the pressure off of having to say too much.

  “Naturally, yes,” Campbell said. “I really must be more careful with my choice of words. I merely meant to inquire after the comfort of your accommodations and the quality of the support staff. Has it all been satisfactory?”

  Smooth as butter, this creep. “Yes, it’s all been great, thank you,” I said with a smile.

  “Excellent, excellent. That’s what I like to hear. We do give guests a chance to fill out formal surveys at the conclusion of their stay, but I like to check in just the same, in case there is anything more I can do while y’all are here,” Campbell said.

  “Well, now that you mention it, do you think we could have fewer explosions?” I said with half a laugh. “I had to talk my security guard off of a ledge after this morning. He even wanted to call my parents.”