by Elara Skye
“I didn’t say that—it’s good, I promise.”
“As far as pea soup goes, you mean?”
“No, it’s just good,” Amelia said, taking another spoonful for good measure. Gross.
“If you say so.” Finn glanced at the television, tuning in to the grotesque view of zombies tearing apart human flesh. “I take it you like horror films?”
“Sometimes. Horror flicks tend to pass the time faster.”
“They don’t frighten you?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t been afraid of the dark since I was six, so they don’t scare me that much.”
“I see,” Finn said, tilting his head as he looked her over. “How are you feeling?”
Beads of sweat had collected on her forehead, and in truth, she just wanted to lay down. “Just a little fatigued.”
“We should check your temperature. You don’t look so good.” Finn reached out and pressed a hand against her forehead and cheek. His skin was pleasantly cool to the touch—soothing against the fever.
Amelia turned to set the soup down, brushing her lips against his fingers accidentally. “Oh, sorry, make sure you wash your hands.”
Finn’s only answer was a grin, and he swiped the digital thermometer off the nightstand. “Alright, let’s see...”
Watching him fiddle with it was the highlight of her night. Amelia supposed, perhaps, that he’d always stuck with the mercury ones, and had never learned to use a digital one. It was heartening to watch how he finally gave up, pulling his phone out to search for instructions. When he threw her an expectant look, Amelia almost wished she could hug him. The poor thing. Fabulously wealthy—with enough brainpower to conjure millions of dollars—yet here he was, wearing a look of absolute cluelessness at the usage of a digital thermometer.
“Need some help?” She leaned forward, pressing and holding the center button to restart the device. “Pretty simple.”
“I knew how to do it,” he murmured. “I just forgot.”
“Sure,” she giggled as she took it from him. Moments later, it read one hundred and one. Not high enough for the emergency room, but it was sufficient to warrant another urgent care visit in the morning.
“I’ll take you,” Finn said.
“I’ll think about it.” Amelia sighed. “I just...”
“You just what?”
She shrugged. “My doctor’s just going to send me away again.”
“I’ll take you to a friend of mine this time.”
“I can’t go if he’s not in my network.”
Finn’s brows scrunched up. “Your what?”
“My insurance network,” she repeated. “I can’t afford to go outside of it.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Copays, you know? I’ve already paid two.” Finn stared at her blankly. “Come on, you know what a copay is.”
He pressed his lips together. “Is that...some sort of entry cost?”
Seriously? Amelia was also a child of the proverbial silver spoon, but even she knew the basics of functioning in society. How could anyone get by without it? “Yeah, it’s what you pay when you go to see a doctor. Like paying for the appointment.”
Realization dawned on him. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding it all week?”
“Well, I’ve already gone twice, so…”
“I should have realized,” he said. “Right, I’ll cover it this time.”
“No.”
“No?”
“That’s not necessary.”
He frowned. “Don’t you dare pretend not to know that it’s no trouble.”
“I do know that, but still.”
“I can use my money however I please. It’s not a car, Amelia. Just a little help.”
She considered it a moment, then smiled. “Alright. Thanks.”
“Sure,” he said, glancing back at the television. “I suppose I’ll be back in the morning...unless you want some company.
She shifted a bit. “Are you talking about the movie?” It was a damn good thing she decided to shed all the contaminated fabrics. “I don’t know, I’m still worried about getting you sick.”
“I told you, I rarely get sick.”
Amelia smirked. “Yeah, after the thermometer thing, I believe you. But still, I’ve got a pretty nasty bug right now.”
Finn’s eyes shot over to the soup, and he reached out to grab the spoon before she could protest. In a single swoop, he licked it clean. Amelia’s stomach dropped, eyes widening as she choked back her shock, coughing instead.
“There,” he muttered. “If I’m doomed, I’m doomed.”
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Believe it,” he swiveled the spoon in front of her and slid it back into the container. “So, what do you say now?”
“I... guess...” Her eyes drifted around her. “You could take this pillow, then…”
“Great.” Finn paid no mind to her dumbfounded expression as he crawled beside her, settling against the massive pillow. “This is an odd angle to watch the television from,” he remarked, commenting on the fact that the TV was situated just under the Victorian bay window, to the far left of the bed.
“Limited options, I’m afraid.” Amelia gestured to the closets straight ahead, whose mirrors gave the tall room a spacious feeling. “And I wouldn’t want to contaminate the couch downstairs. There’s not a lot of room for us to…sit together.”
“Right...” Finn drawled—she saw in the mirror that he had grinned. “Well, other than the poor sitting room, do you actually enjoy living here? I’m sure you’re used to bigger places.”
“Oh, I don’t mind it at all. You should see my bathtub.”
“Your bathtub?”
“It’s the last of its kind,” Amelia said dramatically. She was met with a soft chuckle, until a sudden, piercing scream made her flinch. Her eyes darted back to the TV, where someone was getting choked to death. “Christ, maybe we should turn something else on...”
“Maybe I should’ve brought a movie instead.”
“Movie’s on me, don’t worry,” she said, reaching for the remote. Nyxie jumped between them, creating a makeshift barrier. “And I’ll try not to fall asleep.”
“It’s alright if you do, I can show myself out later.”
Amelia pressed her lips together tightly. “Sure, you can stay as long as you want.”
A blankness settled in his expression—which she also caught in the mirror—until he grinned. “I knew you wanted me to come over.”
She shot him a pointed look. “You’ve already doomed yourself, so it’s too late to turn back now.”
“Perhaps maybe we could go somewhere for breakfast in the morning, too.”
Morning…
“Not if I’m sick.”
“Maybe you’ll feel better by then.”
“Maybe.” Amelia settled back against her pillow, sinking a little. “I doubt it, though.”
“We’ll find out…” Finn murmured, turning his attention to the movie.
The dimness of the room was comforting, with the light of a single lamp pouring over them both. There was no more talk about changing the movie—or any talk at all. Amelia’s fever must have risen, but a comfortable warmth had also settled over her at the same time. It neither weakened nor reinforced her, but she eventually dozed off from it.
Her sleep was more profound than it had been in days. Come morning, her fever finally broke.
Chapter Eight
It was a good thing Finn reached Amelia when he did.
In truth, he never had any intention of taking her to see a doctor. Rather, he wanted to examine her himself. In doing so, he realized almost immediately that she was on the cusp of pneumonia. Healing her was bound to be a delicate task, depending on how much time he had to do it. It was a bit of a gamble to assume that she wouldn’t simply take the soup he brought and send him away—in which case, only then would he have renewed his insistence on taking her to a d
octor, lacking time to heal her properly.
But Finn was pleasantly surprised when she invited him to stay as long as he wanted. In fact, he was glad to be there—even if he were a powerless mortal, he wouldn’t have wanted her to be left alone in that state. Her skin was deathly pale, eyes sunken from a lack of sleep...yet she still she smiled at him.
Finn made sure her fever broke by the following morning.
In the end, he realized that Alaric was right on one count, at least—for one reason or another, he felt the growing influence of the bond. For several weeks, Finn found himself continuously calling her, writing her—and the more they talked, the more the desire to care for her seemed to grow.
Such was the reason behind his visit to the museum tonight.
Finn realized it as he stood in the pavilion, the building’s tall walls bathed in the ominous moonlight. Or perhaps it wasn’t sinister at all—perhaps it was the influence of knowing what was on the other side of those doors. To this day, he couldn’t shake away the image of that first spirit hovering over Amelia’s shoulder, or the dread that lingered in his stomach afterward. Better not to repeat that event—especially since the museum was already advertising their new exhibit.
Finn looked down at his phone. The time read half past midnight, and he slipped it back into his coat pocket. With a heavy sigh, he strode forward, up the steps and into the Ether. He was able to cross unimpeded through the wooden doors, where an empty hall awaited him on the other side. Without the usual crowd, the air felt stagnant. Red camera lights flickered from the corners of the ceiling, but they would see nothing for a time—nothing but static wherever he moved.
Hands buried in his pockets, Finn meandered further into the hall, toward the cold, desolate kiosks. Arches leading to the various exhibits surrounded him, his gaze floating from room to room as he scanned the area. The dead were right where he left them—standing like statues in front of their paintings. They were barely visible from the waist down, and not one of them made a sound. Not an echo of a voice could be heard within the void.
With an arched brow, he took one final look around. It was time to get this over with.
Finn’s lips never parted, but his voice traveled through the air, causing some of the spirits to shudder at the sound. He spoke to them in another language—one that the soul could decipher, but the human mind could not—and he called to them.
When they came, Finn remembered how much he hated this part. There was nothing creepier in the world than having the eyes of the dead fixed on oneself. One by one, he saw the awareness dawning in their hollow features, as their limbs began to move. Some of their eyes widened as they drew close to the ethereal being, expanding unnervingly past the natural boundaries of their shape.
He’d evoked this ritual many times in the past, before the days of secrecy and delegation. Many of the spirits he exorcised had lingered long enough to lose sight of who they were in life. The loss of memory often caused the occasional distortion to appear in death, one that contorted their bodies as they moved. It was disturbing to witness the very first time, but he’d grown accustomed to it over the years—more or less.
“Stop,” he commanded.
The movement around him stilled.
Finn waited for a time, appraising the multitude of souls that had converged. None were malignant, and more than a few were teeming with desperation. He could feel it. They longed to be free—to go back to the lives they’d left behind or be forced onward. He withdrew a hand from his pocket, staring down at his palm for a short moment before closing it again. Finn held it there until it warmed to scorching temperatures, with plumes of light swirling into a tiny ball within his grasp.
A touch of the heavens, to guide the spirits onward.
He let it roll from his fingers, garnering a bit of momentum as it wobbled toward the center of the room. All eyes followed the light as it moved, while several spirits tottered toward it, disappearing when they drew close. After a few moments of watching—seeing the magic function normally—Finn didn’t need to stick around anymore. He turned to leave.
“Who are you?” A soft voice stopped him in his tracks.
Finn turned immediately, seeing the spirit that called out to him. A young girl—adolescent, most likely—donning an old blouse and skirt.
“What?”
“I asked you who you were,” she said, more sharply this time, like she was upset with him.
“I’m Finn. Who are you?”
“Alice Foster,” she said begrudgingly, tilting her head as she huffed a bit. “What are you?”
“I’m an angel,” he said, remembering the name—was she one of the children who owned the desk in the other room? He hadn’t sensed her when they visited, nor did he ever notice a young spirit haunting the area.
“You sent my friends away,” she snapped. “Why?”
“Sorry, what?”
“They’re all gone because of you. Why would you do that?”
“To those spirits, you mean? Because it’s my job,” he said. “It’s not good for any of you to linger in this world.”
“We were fine before you came along. No one asked for your help. Why did you do this?”
“I have my reasons.”
“And I want to hear them.” She demanded. “Is it because of your stupid friend?”
Finn furrowed a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You made her necklace glow, too. It made some of them sick, you know.”
The girl was remarkably lucid for her age, for having been dead as long as she was. Time may have aged her mentally a bit, but Finn couldn’t conceive of any friendship she might’ve shared with any other spirit in this room. Decades of wandering mindlessly through the Ether had not been kind to them.
Finn frowned as he glanced toward the light, which would diminish soon. Rays of it were flickering against the girl’s diaphanous form.
He answered, “If it made them ill, then you had no business being friends with them. And no, the girl had nothing to do with—”
“Well, they weren’t the ones you should’ve been worried about,” she interjected. “They were my friends, and they were good people.”
Finn froze, narrowing his eyes. “Sorry, was there someone else for me to worry about?”
“Maybe the one that was following you? You needed to punish the rest of us for what he was doing?”
Silence.
“Are you talking about the one in the blue doublet?
The girl eyed him angrily. “No. The one with the dark hair.”
“Dark hair?” The demon that pursued Amelia on New Year’s Eve had dark hair. So did Alastair. “What was this man doing, exactly?”
“He turned toward her a lot.”
“Toward my friend?” he asked tersely. “Did you see him watching her in any special way?”
“I don’t know; he didn’t have a face.”
Finn blinked. “What?”
“No face,” she repeated. “The man didn’t have a face.”
Finn narrowed his eyes—what kind of creature had no face? Moreover, what kind of creature could escape his awareness while being in the same room as him? The only spirits that Finn had sensed that day were the same ones surrounding him tonight, and they all had faces.
“How did you feel when you saw this creature?” he demanded. “Before and after?”
“I didn’t talk to you to answer questions.” She huffed quietly. “I’m angry with you.”
“About your friends, right?”
She nodded.
Finn softened a bit. “Look, what I did was not to upset you. It’s simply my job. The girl you saw is human, and it’s my job to protect her as well—so, don’t punish her for your anger with me. I asked you that question because I need to know what you saw. I don’t like the idea of someone watching my friend strangely, so it might help me determine if she’s in any danger. Afterward, you can go with your companions. You’re all going to the same place, after all.”
Alic
e stood motionlessly, staring at him. Her expression eased a bit as she considered it. “No, we’re not,” she finally said. “I’m going to hell.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped. “And how do I know you’re telling the truth, even if I did?”
“What’ve you got to lose?” Finn knelt before her. “Please, tell me. You said your friends were ill from Amelia’s necklace—if they were good people, it wouldn’t have affected them. I want to know if the man made them feel that way.”
Alice watched him, some distance drifting into her expression as she collected her thoughts. “The others were sick, and I was angry. I don’t know why.” Her shoulders sank a bit. “Maybe that’s why they all left me in that room...”
“Which room?”
“The one over there.” She pointed to one of the halls he’d passed through with Amelia.
“Was that man in there with you, the one that was watching my friend?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He turned back to her. “Is there anything else that you can think of? Anything you might have heard him say, or a painting he might’ve looked at?”
“No,” she murmured reluctantly. “He was facing you two the entire time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
A muscle feathered in his jaw. This creature had managed to evade his awareness and influence the spirits at the same time. These were all bad signs, but panicking was counterproductive. Though the whole thing was made worse by the fact that there weren’t any concrete clues as to whether it was trailing him or Amelia. Where could he even begin to find that out? Who did he know that had eyes and ears in every corner of the city?
“Did your friend say anything about it?” Alice suddenly asked.
Finn looked at her. “About this? No. I think it’s better that way. She doesn’t need to worry about her safety for no reason.”
Alice looked away, wearing an empty look. “You should just tell her. And now, you said you’d help me—it’s your turn.”
“Right,” he murmured. “It’s simple. You just have to go toward that light over there.”