The Gateway Trackers Books 1 & 2

by E. E. Holmes

  “It’s possible a few are still…” I began, but Hannah shook her head.

  “I Called them myself, Jess. I didn’t leave any behind,” she said, a barely concealed sob in her voice.

  As Milo leaned in to comfort Hannah, Finn went on. “There are many spirits here that have arrived since the Prophecy. Because of the Geatgrima and the high concentration of active Gateways, this place is a spirit magnet. The Scribes do their best to keep track of all spirits who take up residence here for any length of time, but even those will take a good long time to research.”

  “Who knows how long this could go on if the Council doesn’t find the name themselves? If the spirit doesn’t want to tell us its name voluntarily, how will we ever expel the damn thing?” I said, chucking the pieces of porcelain back into the soggy ashes in my frustration. “Hannah, remind me to kill Karen when we get home. I can’t believe we are stuck here like this.”

  “There’s really no chance the spirit came from somewhere other than these grounds?” Milo asked.

  “Catriona had been on the grounds for a full day before the Shattering happened. I can’t imagine she had a spirit Habitating in her for longer than that without noticing.”

  “Unless…” Milo started, and then stopped himself, looking embarrassed.

  “Go on, Milo,” Finn prompted. “Unless what?”

  “Well, I was just thinking out loud,” Milo said sheepishly. “But, what if the spirit didn’t Habitate without permission? What if Catriona brought it here on purpose?”

  Finn frowned, but not in skepticism. He seemed to be seriously considering the idea. Milo realized this, and he went on disgorging his theory.

  “Look, obviously it sounds a little strange, but what if, while Catriona was off working for the Trackers, she came across this spirit? What if the spirit asked her to bring it here, or maybe she felt compelled to bring it here for some reason?”

  “Why would Catriona need to do that?” I asked.

  “There could be a million reasons,” Milo said. “Most spirits get disoriented too far from the place where they died. I’m an exception, because I’m Bound to you, so anywhere you go, I can go too, without feeling those disorienting effects. But maybe this spirit needed to get here, and Catriona volunteered to bring it? Maybe it had unfinished business here that it needed to take care of before it crossed.”

  Finn raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. “That’s a very interesting theory, Milo.”

  Milo shrugged, trying to look modest. “I am one of the great minds of the deadside, we all know that.”

  Finn stood up. “I’m going to have a word with Seamus, and see if he will pass this theory on to Celeste and the Trackers.” He walked a few steps and then turned sharply back to us. “Don’t leave the entrance hall without me,” he ordered.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re like, the meanest babysitter ever.”

  As Finn marched past the staircase, Savvy came pounding down it, muttering angrily to herself. She spotted us and stalked over, her expression so fierce that I had to resist the urge to back away from her.

  “That’s it. I’ve had it. I quit. Someone give me the sack already.”

  “What’s wrong, Sav?” Hannah asked, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. Savvy did not shrug it off.

  “It’s Frankie. I’m done. She’s not going to give in, no matter how many times I try to convince her. I just talked my bloody head off for an hour, and nothing. We’ve just got to close her Gateway and start over.”

  “I don’t think you can do that,” Hannah said gently.

  “Well, the Council will have to figure it out without my help, because I’m bowing out,” Savvy said, and her anger seemed to melt into exhaustion before our eyes. “I was so excited to help someone,” she said, flopping into a chair by the fire. “I thought I could actually be of some real use to someone instead of always being the resident fuck up. I thought, if I could make this Durupinen mess easier for someone, then maybe it was worth it, everything I went through. Ha bloody ha. What a joke.”

  Hannah walked over and sat down next to Savvy, placing her curly brown head on Savvy’s shoulder. Savvy lay her own ginger head on top with a defeated sigh. “What say you, wee one? Any pearls of wisdom for your ol’ Savvy? I could use some, and that’s the truth.”

  “You asked me before if I might be able to talk to Frankie for you,” Hannah said. “Do you want me to go do it now?”

  Savvy picked up her head and looked at Hannah with an expression of relief. “Would you? That would be brilliant!”

  “I can’t promise it will help,” Hannah said. “But I can try. I can’t stand you looking so gloomy. It’s disrupting the natural order of the universe if you’re not laughing.”

  And Savvy obliged, laughing heartily and pulling Hannah into something that was half-hug, half-headlock. “Ah, you are the best, Hannah, that absolute best. Shall we go up now, then?”

  Hannah’s voice was muffled, as she was still trapped in Savvy’s armpit. “Why not? It’s either that or sit around waiting for a Shard to infect us. I’d rather keep busy, wouldn’t you?”

  Savvy turned to Milo and me. “You two coming as well?” she asked.

  We agreed, and then we all stood up and headed for the stairs. I flagged down Finn with a wave of my hand and told him where we were heading.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” he told me, and turned back to Seamus to finish their conversation.

  Frankie’s room was on the third floor, surrounded by other Apprentice rooms. The hallway was empty, except for Caomhnóir standing guard in front of a few of the doors.

  “This is her, here,” Savvy said, hitching her thumb at the door. “Want me to come in with you? I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting when she’s about to throw something.”

  Hannah stared thoughtfully at the door for a moment. “No,” she said at last. “No, I think it’s better if I go in there alone. She doesn’t trust you, but she has no reason to mistrust me yet.”

  We turned at the sound of footsteps. Finn was rounding the corner into the corridor, followed by Bertie, who was panting and clutching at a stitch in his side.

  “Been looking for you everywhere,” Bertie panted, glaring at Savvy. “I’m supposed to be guarding you, remember?”

  “Ah, piss off, you tosser,” Savvy grumbled.

  Hannah put her hand on the doorknob, and Finn stepped right up behind her.

  “Finn, I want to go in there alone,” Hannah said earnestly.

  “I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Finn said.

  “But she’s never going to trust me if I walk in there with a Caomhnóir. She already thinks everyone here is encouraging her delusions.”

  Finn bit his lip.

  “What if,” I said, “I let Milo Habitate and I use the connection so that I can see and hear everything that is going on in the room? That way, we can give Hannah the space she needs to talk to Frankie, but we’ll be able to monitor the situation.”

  Finn nodded his approval. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he said, with the merest suggestion of a smile.

  “Please, Finn. We all know I’m the brains of this operation,” I said breezily.

  “What am I, then?” Finn asked.

  “You’re the brawn,” I shot back.

  “Exactly. Hannah’s the talent, and I’m the style,” Milo said, and then gasped dramatically. “We should get t-shirts made!”

  Hannah laughed. “Okay, okay, it’s decided. Now, can you two Habitate so I can go in there, please?”

  I turned to Milo. “Come here, lovah,” I said, waggling my eyebrows before closing my eyes.

  “Ew,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and stepped forward right into my body.

  We took a moment to adjust to the bizarre sensation of it, the sense that my mental space was packed to the exploding point. Then, as quietly as I could, I thought, Everyone here?

  Their replies rippled through my head as though I had thought them myself.

&n
bsp; Ready, Milo thought.

  All set, Hannah added. I’m going in. She turned the knob gently and eased the door open so that she could peek through the gap.

  I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on picturing Hannah’s surroundings. After a moment, a bedroom swam into view. It looked just like the bedroom Hannah and I slept in, except the draperies and bedclothes were lavender, and the fireplace was on the opposite side of the room. A girl sat in a chair by the fire staring at the flames with an empty, hollow expression. She was very petite and fair, with long sleek blonde hair and delicate features. As we watched, she raised a slender finger and brushed an errant strand of hair from her face.

  Hannah took a deep breath and yanked the door open, leaping inside and slamming it shut behind her.

  Frankie leapt up from her chair, startled.

  “Who are—” she began, but Hannah shushed her harshly.

  “Be quiet!” she hissed, her back still pressed to the door. “They’re going to hear you!”

  Frankie obeyed, too startled to argue, and continued to stare at Hannah.

  What is she doing? I thought.

  No idea, Milo replied. But our girl obviously has something up her sleeve, so let’s just watch and learn.

  Hannah pretended to listen at the door for a few moments, then turned back to Frankie, sighing with relief. “I’m supposed to be in my own room, but I slipped out. Celeste is going to be pissed, but I just couldn’t take it anymore. Do you have a cigarette?”

  “What?” Frankie asked, still in shock at Hannah’s sudden appearance.

  “A cigarette,” Hannah repeated patiently, walking into the room. “Do you have one I could bum? I’ve been out for a week, and I just can’t take it anymore.”

  What is she doing? She doesn’t smoke. I wondered.

  Yeah, but rich kids always do, Milo said, a laugh in his voice. We used to get spoiled rich kids at New Beginnings all the time, and every one of them smoked like a chimney. It’s like rich kid code for ‘I’m a badass rebel.’ There’s no way she doesn’t… see? What did I tell you?

  Frankie had recovered from her surprise and walked over to her nightstand, from which she extracted a package of cigarettes. While I watched Frankie take out two cigarettes and hand one to Hannah, I relayed the details to Savvy and Finn.

  “Damn it,” Savvy said through gritted teeth. “You mean to tell me Frankie and I could have been bonding over a fag this entire time?”

  “Afraid so,” I said, then tuned back in to Hannah, who was taking her first drag. For someone who didn’t smoke, she certainly knew how to look like she was enjoying herself.

  “Thanks,” she told Frankie, who nodded a bit hesitantly while lighting up her own. She was looking at Hannah very warily, unsure whether she was supposed to acknowledge her existence or not.

  “Relax,” Hannah said, when she noticed Frankie staring at her. “I’m not a delusion. Although, I’m sure delusions have told you that before. You’ll just have to take my word for it that delusions don’t smoke cigarettes.”

  Frankie twitched the corner of her mouth into the barest suggestion of a smile and then went back to her cigarette, still watching Hannah closely.

  “How long have they had you here?” Hannah asked. When Frankie didn’t answer right away, Hannah added, “I’ve been here for six months.”

  Frankie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really? That long? I’ve been here four months. Why haven’t I seen you before?”

  Hannah laughed. “Because you never come out of this room.”

  Why is she doing this? Why is she lying about how long she’s been here? What’s the point? I asked Milo.

  She’s establishing trust. Every kid on the inside has trust issues. You’ve got to show some solidarity for them to open up to you, Milo explained. There’s a whole complicated social order for kids on the psych ward tour, and Hannah knows every inch of it. Trust me, she knows what she’s doing, even if we don’t.

  “My name’s Hannah, by the way. Do you want to tell me yours?” Hannah asked.

  Frankie hesitated, then said, “Frankie. Frankie York.”

  “Nice to meet you, Frankie York. You smoke really smooth cigarettes,” Hannah said with a smile. Frankie did not return the smile. She was still examining Hannah closely. “You can poke me or something, if it will make you feel better,” Hannah said, and she extended her arm slowly, offering it to Frankie. Frankie shook her head.

  “I can pretty much tell the difference now,” she said quietly. “Between the real ones and the delusions.”

  “Good for you. That usually takes a lot longer to figure out,” Hannah said.

  Frankie took a long drag on her cigarette. “You see them, too? The delusions?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Hannah said. “I have for practically my whole life.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. Imaginary friends were a great cover story for a while, until I outgrew them,” Hannah said. “I’m guessing you haven’t been seeing them for very long. When did it start?”

  Frankie tipped a tiny shower of ash over the edge of her chair and nudged it with her toe to make sure it was out. “Not long. A few months.”

  “You probably won’t believe me when I tell you this, but you’ll get used to it,” Hannah said.

  “I don’t want to get used to it,” Frankie snapped, her face suddenly fierce.

  “I don’t blame you,” Hannah said solemnly. “Neither did I.”

  Frankie stared at Hannah for a long moment, as though trying to decide if she could trust her. Then she blurted out, “Are they telling you the same thing they’re telling me?”

  Hannah smirked. “About what? You’ll have to be a little more specific. So far, the only things I know about you are your name and that you smoke really expensive cigarettes.”

  Frankie actually smirked a little. “They’re the same kind my mother smoked. I used to steal them out of her purse sometimes, when I was pissed at her.”

  Hannah grinned and took another drag.

  Frankie settled back into her seat, a sign that she was relaxing around Hannah. “The people here are telling me that this isn’t a psychiatric hospital. They’re saying that the delusions aren’t actually delusions: they’re ghosts. And they’ve brought me here because I’ve been chosen to help them.” She laughed a little hysterically. “Is that what they are telling you?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said. “They told me the exact same thing. You don’t believe them?”

  Frankie shook her head. “No! It’s completely insane. I know what’s happening to me.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. “You do? Enlighten me.”

  Frankie leaned in conspiratorially. “I had a psychotic break. I was under too much pressure at school, and I cracked.”

  “Really?” Hannah asked, sounding fascinated. “What makes you so sure?”

  “I’m a pre-med student, okay? I didn’t just Google this.” Frankie stood up and jogged over to her nightstand. She opened the drawer and extracted a large file folder bulging with dog-eared packets of papers. She thrust it into Hannah’s hands. “Take a look, if you like. I’m a textbook case of schizophrenia! I’m just the right age. The stress of starting college probably triggered the onset.”

  “Interesting,” Hannah said, not even opening the folder. “Did they give you the blood tests and the brain scans to rule out tumors and hallucinogenic drugs?”

  Frankie’s eyes widened. “Yes,” she said.

  “Did they enroll you in psychotherapy?”

  Frankie nodded.

  “What kinds of anti-psychotic meds did they start you on? Usually they start with Thorazine, but Haldol is definitely getting more popular.”

  Frankie opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I… yeah, Thorazine.”

  “How is that working for you?” Hannah asked casually, as though she were asking about the weather.

  Frankie shook her head a fraction of an inch back and forth, her eyes filling with tears. “Not good,” s
he whispered. “It hasn’t stopped anything.”

  “It didn’t for me, either,” Hannah said. She began ticking medications off her fingers. “I’ve been on Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, Loxitane, Trilafon, and Mellaril. When none of those worked, they tried some different combinations of Aripiprazole, Clozapine, Lurasidone, and Quetiapine. Every time, the delusions broke through.”

  Frankie’s face was fixed in an expression of horror.

  Hannah tapped a finger on the folder. “There’s not a thing you could have highlighted in this folder that I haven’t already had explained to me. There’s not a single drug or treatment listed in here that I haven’t tried. I have a gold medal in pointless consumption of anti-psychotic meds.”

  Still Frankie said nothing. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  “Do you want to know why none of the drugs or therapies worked?” Hannah asked gently.

  Frankie shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want to know.”

  Hannah smiled sadly. “Neither did I. Because I didn’t want to admit the truth about what was happening to me. And I can see that you don’t either.”

  Frankie shook her head. “I’m not like you. My meds are going to work.”

  “Are they working right now?” Hannah asked softly. And I felt the tugging that meant she was Calling. Three spirits floated into the room almost at once and waited suspended just above the floor, waiting for further instruction.

  Frankie could not stop her eyes from flicking quickly over to them, before staring straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge their existence. “They will work,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “They will. I just have to find the right combination, and then I can go on with my life as though none of this ever happened.”

  “I get it, Frankie,” Hannah said, and the empathy in her voice drew Frankie’s eyes onto her. “I know why you want the medications to work. I used to want that, too. If the medications worked, then I could take control of my life again. I could move forward with all the plans I had for myself. I could not be what I was.”