Whispers of the Walker

by E. E. Holmes

  With that, Catriona sauntered from the room, tossing a sardonic laugh into the air as she went.

  §

  “You must be plumb worn out,” the Lafayette twins said, still talking in unison as they led us up the creaky staircase.

  I forced my reluctant voice up out of my throat. “Yes we are, thank you.”

  “Not at all. You should find your quarters comfortable, we’ve given you the best rooms. You can rest yourselves.”

  The second floor consisted of one long hallway lined with polished doors on either side. At first glance, the hall’s dust and cobwebs covered everything so thoroughly that the second floor appeared to exist on the other side of a thin, draped veil. Each room had a large brass number affixed to the door, as well as a plaque bearing the name of each room—“The Peony Suite;” “The Rose Suite;” “The Snapdragon Suite;” “The Camellia Suite.” I thought the room names were probably a tribute to the house’s magnificent gardens.

  “Mrs. Biddeford retires very early, so do keep the noise down after dark,” Lu-Ann and Loretta said, both gesturing to the Snapdragon Suite. “And Mr. Hughes can’t abide the cussing and cursing from young people nowadays, so we must ask you to watch your language in the halls.” They pointed to the Peony Suite.

  I glanced at Finn, who shrugged. It seemed these unseen guests were just as strange as their hostesses.

  “If you do hear a ruckus coming from this room,” Lu-Ann and Loretta went on, gesturing toward the Rose Suite, “don’t trouble yourself. Dr. and Mrs. Miller fight like cats and dogs, but they really are awfully fond of each other at heart.”

  Even as they said it, two angry voices permeated the hall from behind the door.

  “…can’t fathom why you’d think that I—”

  “—My dear, I the number of things you can’t fathom would fill a book!”

  Lu-Ann and Loretta chuckled. The silvery sound raised goose bumps on my arms.

  We stopped in front of the Lilac Suite and waited while Lu-Ann opened the door with an antique skeleton key; it was one of many keys she kept on the kind of ring a jailer would carry around in an old Western movie. At least the room had been cleaned, unlike all the rest of the spaces we’d seen in the house so far. Everything, from the blankets to the carpet to the curtains, was in various shades of purple, and the room still smelled like mothballs and mildew. The beds had been turned down, and a vase full of the room’s namesake lilacs adorned the desk under the window. The flowers added a sticky sweet scent to the air; their aroma mixed with the mothball smell in the worst possible way. The dark velvet curtains had been pulled back so that late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the open windows; when the curtains were pulled shut again, I knew the room would be as dark as a tomb in the dead of night. The shelf over the fireplace held half a dozen porcelain dolls wearing a rainbow of sherbet-colored dresses. Like everything else in this place, the dolls were spooky as hell; I was seized with an immediate desire to stuff them all into the fireplace, stack them up like cherub-faced logs, and set a match to them.

  “We do hope you find everything to your liking,” said Lu-Ann and Loretta. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, and fresh towels in the closet. Your dinner trays will be up in just a few minutes. There’s fresh water in the basin if you’d like to wash up. We’ll bid you good night, then.”

  “Good night?” Milo repeated, looking incredulous. He waited until the twins closed the door behind them before pointing to the window. “It’s barely five thirty! The sun hasn’t even set!”

  “That’s what happens when you haven’t left your house since Prohibition, I guess,” I said. I reached down and tried to cool myself by flapping my shirt against my midsection, but it was heavy and limp from my sweat-soaked body. The air in the room was stagnant and stifling, despite the open window.

  Hannah began walking around the room, examining it. “There’s water in this pitcher!” she said in astonishment, pointing to a washstand with a white porcelain pitcher and bowl. “I think we’re supposed to pour it into this bowl to wash our faces!” I couldn’t tell from the squeak in her voice if she was horrified or fascinated. I suppose it could’ve been both.

  A sudden sharp knocking came from the door I’d assumed was our closet. I leapt back and screamed, as did Hannah. Milo shot back across the room like he’d been hooked on a fishing line.

  “It’s only me,” came Finn’s calm and steady voice from behind the door.

  “Finn? How did you get in our closet?” I asked.

  “I’m not in your closet,” he said impatiently. The door swung open; Finn stood in a room almost identical to ours, except it was decorated in pale blues instead of garish purples. “Our rooms are adjoining. I thought you ought to know, in case you need anything from me in the middle of the night.”

  Milo’s wisecrack shot through our connection like lightning. “Oh… I can think of a few things you might need from Finn in the middle of the night!” I suppose I should’ve been grateful that Milo didn’t say the damn thing aloud, but I had to fight from blushing nonetheless.

  “Thanks, Finn,” I said a bit louder than was strictly necessary, given that the comment I was trying to block out was in my head.

  “Hey, did you guys notice these runes?” Hannah asked. I turned to see her squatting in front of the windowsill. “These aren’t Wards. Or at least, they aren’t the usual Wards.”

  We all joined her at the window. Finn reached out and touched the runes. They hadn’t merely been painted or drawn; they were branded into the wood, and sunken and blackened with age.

  “I don’t recognize them,” I said.

  “Of course you don’t,” said Hannah. “You never learned runes like you were supposed to.”

  “I know… some of them,” I said defensively, but Hannah raised an eyebrow at me. I grinned sheepishly. “Okay, okay, I’m a rune delinquent. Do you know what they mean?”

  “I might!” Finn announced excitedly, startling me so badly that I tumbled backward into a sitting position, before flopping awkwardly onto the plum-colored carpet. “Milo! Come over here and see if you can exit through this window.”

  Milo, who had been staring at the water pitcher as though it were the mouth of hell itself, looked up at the sound of his name. “Huh? Oh, sure.” He flew at the window with a confident speed, expecting to glide right through the pane; instead, he bounced right off of it.

  “What the—” Milo tried again. Again he couldn’t cross through the glass, and instead tumbled backward toward the middle of the room.

  “Reverse Wards,” Finn said, slapping a hand against his thigh. “Meant to keep spirits in, not out. I remember reading about them for a test. Never thought I’d see them in use, though. Milo, try crossing into my room.”

  Milo approached the wall separating Finn’s room from ours, moving a bit more cautiously this time. Sure enough, he couldn’t enter Finn’s room no matter how hard he tried.

  Finn hopped up and examined the open doorway. “Try through here,” he said.

  Milo floated easily through the door into Finn’s room and back again. “No problem here,” he said.

  Finn closed the door between our rooms. “Have a go at it now.”

  Milo tried but failed. “Nope, can’t do it,” he said. “Not unless the actual door is open.”

  Finn pointed to the panel on the door itself. Another rune was burned into the wood, in the exact spot where a peephole would usually be. “These Wards on these rooms are designed to make the spirits follow the same rules as living people, in terms of entering and leaving. If they want to come in, they need to use an open door, just like the rest of us.”

  “That’s so strange,” I said. “What’s the point of that?”

  “I’m not sure,” Finn said slowly, “but I’ve got a theory. You up for a little Calling, Hannah?”

  Hannah looked up, startled. “Calling? Here? Why?”

  “You’ll see. We’ll have to go into the hallway, though.”

&nbs
p; Puzzled, we all followed Finn and convened outside our door; I closed it behind us as a defense against our room’s purple nightmare.

  “Hannah, go ahead and reach out a bit. Not too far, just within the house. See what you come up with,” Finn said.

  He kept his tone light and casual, and I knew Finn was doing it for Hannah’s benefit. Calling dredged up a lot of painful memories for her; for a while after we’d defeated the Necromancers, she had refused to use Calling consciously.

  Before we’d left Fairhaven yesterday, Hannah, Finn, and I had talked about her fears. We all agreed that while it was important for her to wield her gift sparingly and with caution, it was also important for her to overcome her fear of Calling; we never knew when we might truly need it.

  Finn put a reassuring hand on Hannah’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. She looked at him and gave him a timorous smile. “Okay. I can do that. Just a little bit,” she said, as much to herself as to Finn. Then she closed her eyes and reached out into the space around her, pulling at the invisible strings that would tie her to any spirit in the area—like casting out a thousand fishing lines and giving each a tug to see what was on the other end.

  Hannah was quiet for a few moments, and then her mouth fell open. She let out a gasp that was half a laugh, then opened her eyes. “I can’t believe it!” she said, looking back at Finn, who was nodding; apparently, Hannah had just confirmed whatever theory he’d formulated.

  “What? What is it?” I asked eagerly.

  Without answering, Hannah closed her eyes again. Every door along the hallway flew open at once, except for ours and Finn’s. I leapt back with a yell.

  Spirits, at least one from every room, flooded into the hallway, then turned as one to follow Hannah’s irresistible Call. They came toward us, then hung motionless and ready for further instruction from Hannah; Hannah merely stood and watched them with half a smile on her face.

  “Meet the guests at the Lafayette Boarding House,” Finn said, laughing.

  “You mean they… what?” I said weakly. “Are you seriously telling me that we’re staying in a boarding house for ghosts?”

  “I am indeed,” Finn replied, still laughing. “Lu-Ann and Loretta Lafayette, purveyors of fine accommodations for the not-so-recently departed.”

  Suddenly it all made sense: The dust-covered furniture; the cobwebs; the uninhabited look of the entire house. Even as I pieced it together, I wondered why I was surprised. This was my life, after all.

  I looked around again. A middle-aged couple hovered closest to us. The husband was dressed in a white suit, with a cravat around his neck. He sported a handlebar mustache and a truly epic set of sideburns. The wife had a perfect hourglass figure, complete with a waistline that could only be achieved by use of a corset.

  “How long have these spirits been here?” I whispered.

  “A long time,” Hannah replied, reading them like books while they remained connected through her Calling. “Some for well over a hundred years!”

  I turned to Finn. “Do you think the Lafayette sisters are keeping them here on purpose? Like, trapping them?”

  I looked a bit further down the hall. An elderly gentleman was wearing a snappy set of spats, and had a fedora dangling from his left hand. The other spirits in the hall were similarly attired in outdated clothes—each outfit reflected the style of the era in which its owner had died.

  “You’d have to ask Lu-Ann and Loretta,” Finn replied. “But honestly, I very much doubt it. I think these spirits might be more comfortable in this society of the dead than amongst the living. Any number of spirits stay behind for a good long time, even if they have the chance to Cross. Many souls choose not to let go, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but we always encourage them to go. I mean, that’s our job, to help them on their way—not to collect them like souvenirs. Encouraging them to stay like this might be just as bad as forcing them to stay,” I said.

  Hannah opened her eyes while at the same time cutting the mental threads that tied her to the surrounding spirits. As though a hypnotist had snapped his fingers to awaken them, the spirits looked around, confused for a moment, before retreating to their rooms.

  “Catriona already knew what this place was like, remember? She tried to warn us before we got here. So the Council must know all about it—and I doubt they’d let this go on if Lu-Ann and Loretta were somehow standing in the way of spirits choosing to Cross,” Hannah said, reasoning out loud; the uncertainty in her voice made it clear that there was plenty of room for doubt in her mind.

  “I don’t have a lot of faith in what the Council will or will not allow, to be honest,” I replied. Let’s be sure to mention it to someone back at Fairhaven when we get the chance, anyway.”

  “Good idea,” Hannah said, with a look of slight relief on her face.

  “Okay, okay! I’ll make the rounds tonight and make sure no one’s being held against their will,” Milo said with a long-suffering sigh. “The floaters here look about as lively as a funeral procession. I’m pretty sure I’d rather watch paint dry than talk to them, but it’s the right thing to do, I guess.”

  Hannah smiled slyly at him. “Thank you, Milo. You’re a real martyr.”

  We walked back into our room. Before I shut the door, I heard the Millers back at it again, bickering over what year it was.

  “But what does it matter, darling? What does any of that matter? I haven’t the faintest idea what year it is, but I do know it’s not our year. The years have gone by without us!” Dr. Miller sighed wearily.

  His words sent a little shiver down my spine. I hoped the Millers were truly happy staying in this realm, regardless of their incessant bickering. Maybe they were just one of those couples—never happy unless they were at odds. But maybe, their stay at the Lafayette Boarding House wasn’t entirely voluntary; I tried not to think about it as I pulled our door shut.

  12

  Accessorizing

  “HANNAH STOP,” I PLEADED. “Stop reading.”

  “I’m just reviewing the details in this last…”

  I reached down and tugged the file out of her hand. Her grip on it was impressive considering the tininess of her hands.

  We were sitting at a small table in the boarding house’s front room, waiting for Iggy to pick us up. Finn was still upstairs getting dressed. Milo was off trying to wheedle some last-minute information from the spirit guests, who had turned out to be pretty tight-lipped around new spirits. The blossom-scented air wafting through the open windows was heavy and hot, even at 8:00 AM. I didn’t even want to think of how sweaty and miserable I’d be when high noon hit New Orleans.

  I tucked the file folder into the front pocket of my suitcase and zipped it closed. “You don’t need that anymore, Hannah. You know this stuff. We both do.”

  “I know, but I just want to make sure.”

  “You’re just making yourself even more nervous,” I told her.

  “I can’t get any more nervous than I am right now, so you might as well give it back to me.” Hannah lunged across me, making a grab for the suitcase, but I shoved it further away with my foot.

  “There’s not going to be a written test, Hannah. It’s just our cover story.”

  Hannah dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God, I’m going to screw this up. I just know it Jess, I’m going to screw this up!”

  “No, you won’t! It’ll be fine! The only thing we really need to get across to Campbell is that our family has a shitload of money, and that we’re willing to throw fistfuls of it at him if he’ll help us. As soon as he sees all those dollar signs, we’ll be golden. A guy like Jeremiah Campbell isn’t going to care about anything else.”

  Hannah took a deep, shaky breath and blew it out again. “You’re right. I know you’re right, I’m just… I’m not good at lying.”

  “Sure you are!” I said, perhaps a bit too brightly.

  Hannah looked up at me, affronted. “Excuse me?”

  “Well, you’ve been lying abo
ut seeing spirits all your life, haven’t you?” I pointed out.

  “Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose so—but I didn’t exactly pull that off all the time. I mean, I wound up in New Beginnings, didn’t I?”

  I grimaced. “Don’t think about that right now. That’s all in the past.” I paused for a moment, thinking how to outline our situation in a way that would be easier on my sister’s nerves. “Okay, new perspective. All we’re doing is telling a story. Just telling a story. If we tell it well, we’re in. If we don’t, well, we’ll go back to the drawing board and try something else. But we can do it, I know we can.”

  Hannah smiled at me. “You’re very positive all of a sudden.”

  I smiled back. “Don’t worry, I won’t make a habit of it,” I promised.

  “May we interest you in some refreshment?”

  I jumped and yelped. Lu-Ann and Loretta had appeared soundlessly beside us. They were dressed this morning in identical gardening outfits, complete with wide-brimmed straw hats and heavy gardening gloves. Lu-Ann placed two teacups full of coffee delicately on the table in front of us. Loretta offered a plate of beignets from a tarnished silver tea tray.

  “Um, thank you very much,” I said, taking a beignet and a plate from the tray. Lu-Ann and Loretta nodded in tandem and walked into the front hall, where they paused in front of a blacked-out mirror, faced one another, then preceded to tie the ribbons on each other’s hats and tuck loose wisps of each other’s hair into place.

  I gasped and inhaled a lungful of powdered sugar.

  “What? What is it?” Hannah asked, patting me on the back as I coughed violently.

  “I just realized… the mirror thing…” I spluttered.

  “What? What about them?” Hannah asked, offering me a glass of water with a slice of lemon floating in it.

  I chugged the water, cleared my throat, and said, “The mirrors! The spirits don’t need or want them, since they don’t appear in them, obviously. But Lu-Ann and Loretta don’t need them either. They don’t need them because they literally act like each other’s reflections. Look!”