Spirit Ascendancy

by E. E. Holmes

  His voice was swallowed by emotion, and I looked up at him for the first time since opening the book of poetry. His eyes were glistening with pooled tears, reflecting in the rearview mirror. And I still couldn’t believe anything I was seeing or hearing. I was in the fucking twilight zone.

  “I’m in love with you, Jess. It’s impossible and reckless, and I can’t take it back, and I can’t fight it, and I’m tired of trying.”

  All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. All I could see was the glint of those tears in his eyes.

  “Jess, say something. Please, say anything.”

  “I…”

  Beside me, Savvy snored loudly and woke herself up. She startled, flailing her arms so that she smacked Annabelle in the face and violently kicked the back of Bertie’s seat.

  “What? What was that? What happened?” she slurred.

  “It was you,” I told her, shutting Finn’s book and stowing it in my pocket tucked carefully next to the book of Téigh Anonn. “You snore like a cartoon character.”

  “Sorry, mate,” she said, giving me a curious look. “You alright?”

  “I…” I looked at Finn without meaning to, and caught his eye. He was still looking at me, and the intensity of his gaze sent the blood flooding into my cheeks. I dropped my eyes quickly to my lap. “I just couldn’t sleep. I’m too worried about Hannah.”

  She wasn’t convinced. She was still looking back and forth between Finn and me, eyes narrowed. But she dropped it and shoved a sleeve back so she could examine her watch. “We must be nearly there.”

  “We are,” Finn said, tearing his eyes from me and refocusing on the road. “Let’s put our heads together. We need to come up with a plan.”

  20

  Revelations

  I POUNDED MY FISTS repeatedly against my temples. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t think anymore. I had absolutely no ideas. I would never have another idea as long as I lived, which at that moment, wasn’t looking like a very long time.

  Every paper, scroll, and photo we’d stolen from Ileana’s tent was spread on the grass between us, lit only by the headlights of the SUV. We’d been over and over and over them, and shot down every suggestion each of us had had, especially Bertie’s brilliant idea that we “just wing it.”

  “Even if we manage to get onto the grounds and into the castle without being seen which, by the way, sounds basically impossible,” I said, “we haven’t got a clue where in the castle she is.” I pulled out a photo, which had a window circled. “I mean, this room obviously means something, but we have no idea what.”

  “And if what Flavia said is true, then this book is bloody useless,” Savvy said, throwing the Book of Téigh Anonn one long, disgusted look before tossing it onto the ground. “How are we supposed to get past the Wraiths if none of those castings will work on them?”

  “It’s true,” Bertie said, speaking for the first time in so long that I’d actually forgotten he was there. “We couldn’t expel them. Nothing we did had any effect at all. Well, by ‘we’ I mean the other Caomhnóir back at the castle. I didn’t actually fight any of them myself. I mean, I would have of course, but I was already at the border so…” His voice died away and he dropped his eyes to the map in his hands, as though it had suddenly become fascinating.

  Savvy rolled her eyes and turned to Finn. “Finn, you saw a lot of the fight at the Traveler camp and here at the castle. Wasn’t there anything the Caomhnóir tried that seemed to work?”

  Finn shook his head. “The only time I ever saw a spirit stop attacking was when someone doused one of the fires. Even if that torch Hannah was carrying is still lit, I’m sure it’s being kept in a safe place.”

  “And we can’t just extinguish it, even if we do find it,” I said. “All of those spirits would just… die. For good.” I knew “die” wasn’t exactly the right word, but there seemed to be no other way to describe it. No one challenged the term. They all knew what I meant.

  “But surely giving the ghosts their essences back would work as well? They’re only doing what the Necromancers are telling them because they have no choice. So how do we find out how to release them from the flame and restore their essences?” Annabelle asked.

  “The only people who can tell us are Hannah or the Necromancers. Obviously the Necromancers won’t give up that information because it would disable their entire army. And Hannah…” Finn looked at me inquiringly and I shrugged.

  “I want to think she’d help us, but I just don’t know anymore,” I said.

  “Well, this is bullshit,” Milo said. “How did the Durupinen defeat the Necromancers all those years ago? I mean, they won, right? They had to have some tricks up their sleeves. You don’t win wars without learning how to play dirty.”

  “Don’t look at me, I never actually read anything in Celeste’s class,” Savvy said.

  “We never learned about anything like that,” I said. “The books like to gloss over the messy stuff; we learned that the hard way, didn’t we? If the Durupinen ever used anything like torture, we aren’t likely to know about it. And they didn’t have to deal with these Wraiths before, did they?”

  Finn shook his head. “We spent a lot of time learning defensive and offensive castings and tactics in our classes, and I can’t think of anything that would work against those Wraiths. Every casting we have calls upon the spirit itself; it needs the essence to work properly.”

  “They’re like floating weapons,” I said, kicking over a stack of scrolls in frustration. “There’s no way to reason with them, no way to appeal to them; they are literally floating vessels of hatred and violence, every negative Necromancer thought just crammed into them, and…and…” I trailed off as a crazy thought swooped down upon me. Crazy, and quite possibly, brilliant.

  Here in the woods, just over the border to the grounds…

  A spirit form, but not a human…

  Thriving on the hatred and fear of others…

  “I’ve got it,” I said.

  “You’ve got what? What hell are you talking about?” Finn asked.

  “The Durupinen aren’t so pure in their methods. They’ve used a being even worse than these Wraiths to torture people. They’re just not dumb enough to record it for posterity.”

  “Are you going to tell us what you’re talk—”

  “The Elemental,” I said.

  Bertie, Savvy and Annabelle looked confused. Finn looked thoughtful. Milo’s face split into a wicked grin.

  “Oh, girl, you are good,” he said.

  I gave a mock bow. “I try.”

  “There’s an Elemental on these grounds?” Annabelle asked, looking alarmed. “A real one?”

  I nodded. “Hannah and I were trapped with it right after we got here. And I can tell you from personal experience, there is no more effective weapon in the world.”

  “But could we actually control it?” Finn asked.

  “I have no idea,” I said. “It’s being controlled right now, by the Durupinen. They’ve got it contained to the príosún.”

  “Yes, and for good reason,” Finn said. “If given free reign, that thing would wreak absolute havoc.”

  “Isn’t absolute havoc exactly what we need?” Milo asked.

  “Yes, but not if we can’t aim the havoc at the right people,” Finn said. “Who’s to say it won’t start attacking every single person in its path?”

  “That might be a risk we have to take,” I said. “But I think the Wraiths would be the perfect lure for it. Don’t you remember how positive thoughts drove the Elemental away? The Wraiths don’t have any positive energy to combat it with. They’ll be the perfect targets.”

  “I suppose,” Finn said slowly, jumping up and pacing, “that if we had the ability to trap it again when it had served its purpose, it might be worth the risk.”

  “So can we?” I asked. “How did you and Carrick banish it last time?”

  Finn stopped pacing and looked stricken. “I don’t have that casting,” he said.
“It wasn’t in the Book of Téigh Anonn. It was too obscure even for that. Carrick knew it, and he was the one who told me what to do. I don’t think we can do any of this without him.”

  I groaned. “Back to the drawing board, I guess.”

  “Hold on. Why can’t we just ask Carrick?” Milo asked.

  I stared at him. “Uh, probably because Carrick isn’t here,” I said.

  Milo rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t get sassy with me, we don’t have time. I know he’s not here now, but he must be in the castle. Marion was going to imprison him and Finvarra, remember? I think our best bet is to find him and get the information we need.”

  “That’s all well and good, mate,” Savvy said, “but how are we supposed to find him? It’s the same problem. We can’t get onto the grounds and into the castle without being discovered.”

  “Jess needs to Walk. Didn’t you say the Wraiths can’t see you in that state?” Milo asked.

  I shook my head. “No. They were flying right past me at the Traveler camp, and not one of them even acknowledged me. Milo, you’re a genius.”

  “Obvi,” Milo sang.

  “No, no, this is no good,” Finn said. “We can’t just send Jess in there alone. What if she’s caught? What if we can’t get her back out of there? We can’t afford a mistake like that.”

  “We don’t have time to be cautious,” I said. Finn caught my eye and there was such intensity in his gaze that I looked away. “If we don’t try it, we’re done for. I’ll head straight for the dungeons, find Carrick, and get back here. As long as we don’t attempt some sort of mass breakout, the Necromancers will never even know I was there.”

  Savvy nodded. “She’s right. We’ve got one shot at this. You’ve got to let her do it, mate.”

  I nearly shouted down the idea of him “letting me” do anything, but I bit my tongue and kept my eyes on my own hands.

  After what felt like an interminably long pause, he said, “Fine. But Milo is going with you, so that he can get help if you need it. And no playing the hero, either of you.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “In and out, quick and dirty,” Milo said.

  “Okay. Let’s cut through the woods. We’ll wait by the príosún for the two of you to get back.”

  My heart began beating a violent tattoo against my ribcage. “Let’s go then.”

  Bertie cut the engine to the SUV and backed it into a clump of nearby bushes. Then Milo stepped into us, one by one, and we scaled the low stone wall and followed Finn into the trees.

  §

  I’d thought the Fairhaven grounds were beautiful from the first moment I saw them. They were even more beautiful when floating weightless above them, bathed in chilling moonlight. I propelled myself on mere thought over the rise and fall of the hills, around the wending walls and frosted flowerbeds. Milo hovered close by me, and though he had not actually manifested, I could feel his energy flitting along beside my own. We came to a stop at the base of the castle walls and waited in the shadows, taking stock of our surroundings.

  Here and there, Wraiths wove through the air like moths, or else hung suspended, eerily still, waiting for a trigger that would unleash their instructions from the Necromancers.

  “What do you think would happen if they could see us?” Milo asked, the thought drifting into my head like a song.

  “I don’t know. They’d attack, probably. I’m sure they’ve been told to watch for intruders.”

  “I know that one,” Milo said, and even without seeing him point, I could follow the direction of his thought toward the ghost of a strapping man floating about twenty yards away. “Remember him? He was the one Savvy used to cross the wards the night we went into London.”

  “That’s right,” I said, observing him more closely. “What was his name?”

  “Seamus, I think,” Milo said, and I felt him shudder. “He just doesn’t look right like that. None of them do.”

  “I know. Well, the quicker we get this done, the quicker they’ll be themselves again.”

  “Okay, according to the map, the highest level of the dungeons should be just on the other side of this wall.” I turned to the wall itself and examined it critically. The Necromancers hadn’t added any runes that I could see, at least not on the outside. “And the notes on the photograph said that only the cells themselves are warded, so you should be able to follow me down the central hall.” As often as I’d practiced Walking, I’d never actually tried to move through a solid object before, which, now that I stopped to think about it, seemed like a glaring oversight in my practice skills. Why the hell hadn’t Irina showed me how to do it? What if there was some trick to it I didn’t know?

  “Any advice for going through solid walls?” I asked Milo.

  “If it’s anything like the way it is for ghosts, it’ll feel strange at first,” Milo said. “You’ll feel sort of… compressed. Don’t think too much about it or you’ll get disoriented.”

  “Right, okay,” I said, psyching myself up. “Just do it. Yeah. Piece of cake.” I held my breath, even though I didn’t need to breathe, and pictured myself on the other side of the wall.

  Even though it happened quickly, the sensation lingered. Whatever it was that made me up—cells? Particles? Energy?—was compressed very tightly, so that I felt for a moment like I might implode and vanish from the world with a tiny “pop!” But then I was inside the castle, the wall firmly behind me, and I shook off the sensation as best I could as I tried to keep my wits about me.

  The long, dark hallway was lit with torches jammed into crude, wrought-iron brackets. The passage looked like it had been roughly gouged into the stone instead of meticulously constructed, like the upper levels of the castle. Every few feet, a thick wooden door with a small barred window was set into the wall.

  “I’ll just start looking,” I said. “Do you remember what to do if a Wraith shows up?”

  “Back through the wall. What am I, an idiot?” Milo hissed.

  “Just checking,” I said, and began my search of the dungeon.

  The first three doors revealed nothing but piles of crates, broken furniture, and tattered mounds of burnt fabric. The Durupinen must have used those rooms to store the things damaged in the fire, before the Necromancers had arrived. I rounded the first corner and froze.

  The Silent Child was pacing the hallway at the bottom of a set of stairs, her eyes unseeing, her face slack and expressionless. Even as I watched, she turned and stared right at me—through me—and continued her patrol with measured, soundless steps. Relief and sadness coursed through my spectral form in equal measure. I still didn’t know why the Wraiths couldn’t see me while Walking—maybe it was the fact that the Necromancers didn’t know about it, and so the Wraiths contained no information or instructions that would allow them to acknowledge me—but it was a small comfort to know that it seemed to apply to all Wraiths and not just the ones at the Traveler camp.

  I slid carefully past her anyway, pausing for a moment to look into her face. If I were still in my body, my eyes would have filled with tears at the sight of her, enslaved like this, unable to recognize me. I wondered how she’d managed to visit me in my dreams, to warn me about the dangers to come. I was more determined than ever to find that spirit torch and restore the essences trapped within it.

  I continued down the hallway. None of the doors seemed to have locks, but each was barricaded with a heavy wooden bar held in place with metal brackets. They would be simple enough to remove from the outside, if we managed to get down here to release everyone. I peered through the wall into the next room and reeled with emotion. Fiona lay in there, one arm heavily bandaged, breathing in the slow, even pattern of deep sleep. Heavy iron cuffs bound her hands together behind her, perhaps to stop her from using her abilities as a Muse. The walls, ceiling, and floor were covered in runes, just like Annabelle’s flat had been when we’d found her. I fought a mad desire to go to Fiona. I wanted to break the door down and rip the cuffs from her wrists and
then use them to beat the shit out of every Necromancer that had the gall to stand in my way. But I swallowed it back. I forced it down, down into a place where it smoldered, but could not explode. I had a job to do. We’ll be back for you soon, I promised her silently, hoping some comfort from the thought would seep into her sleeping consciousness.

  I crossed the hall and looked into the next cell. I nearly shouted in surprise. Lucida lay inside it, battered and bruised, with a number of runes painted upon her bare skin. If the Necromancers still had control of the castle, what was she doing here, chained like a prisoner rather than an accomplice? There was no time to investigate; if I woke her, she might raise the alarm, and all could be lost. I moved on.

  Two doors farther along, Finvarra was leaning against the far wall, upright and regal even sitting upon a filthy, straw-strewn floor. She was not facing me. Her gaze was fixed on the narrow strip of moonlight visible through the high window, which filtered down through the murky gloom and lit her long, silver hair with an unearthly glow.

  “Finvarra!”

  My voice, though restrained to a whisper, seemed to resound through the space like a gunshot. Finvarra’s head snapped up and her mouth dropped open when she saw me.

  “Jessica?” Her voice was hoarse and cracked, like she hadn’t used it in a while. “What are you doing? What’s happened to you?”

  “I’ll explain later. Where’s Carrick?”

  “But you’re… a ghost!” Finvarra whispered.

  “I’m not, I promise. I know it looks like it, but… I really can’t get into it right now. Where’s Carrick?” I said again. “I need his help.”