Hereditary Power

by Emma L. Adams

  Even without the house’s magic functioning, the comforting smell of old books embraced me as I read through the textbook. Apparently, I didn’t need to open the whole gate whenever a spirit got loose—I could carefully let only one spirit through. As I’d done with the half-faerie. But the part I wanted to know about was how to use the Ley Line to travel as Ivy did.

  The spirit lines are anchors.

  I stared at the page. Anchors… like candles. So did that mean if I left my body while on a spirit line, I wouldn’t go floating off into the void? I suspected most necromancers had absolutely zero control when they disconnected from their bodies, so I was one step above them in that I could actually control where I moved and how I extended my spirit sight. But master necromancers could go one step further and move anywhere they liked at will. They had absolute control. Their methods were also a swift ticket through the gates if they went wrong, but those who survived to become Guardians were able to use the spirit lines to travel great distances.

  And so was the Gatekeeper… except I didn’t need to be dead to do so. I could go wherever I wanted at any time.

  I looked up, and jumped, seeing River’s reflection in the window. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “A while.” He gave a tired smile and walked to the desk. Besides the textbooks was the sci-fi paperback he’d borrowed from me when he’d been here the first time, what felt like a lifetime ago. “I never did borrow the rest of those books of yours.”

  “Go right ahead.” I stretched my neck. “I might need to put some of this into practise soon.”

  “Anchors?” he said, reading over my shoulder. “I didn’t know that about the spirit lines.”

  “Where’s the nearest one to here?” I asked. “Aside from the Ley Line, I mean.”

  “I assume there’s a spirit line close to the necromancer guild, or your family mausoleum,” he answered. “Why?”

  “Because I can travel along spirit lines.” I closed the textbook. “Any of them. I could get to Edinburgh from here without leaving the village. I can travel between key points. There’s no risk of me leaving the line and risking being dragged through the gate.”

  River’s fingers trailed over the back of my chair, and the earthy scent of his magic filtered through the old-book smell. My body remembered our encounter in the Sidhe’s forest even if my mind wanted to focus on the present. We had few hours of daylight left, and if it was possible for me to use my ability to find the Gate—I had to try.

  River shook his head. “That skill’s Guardian material, and extremely dangerous. Key points closer together, maybe, but not that far apart.”

  “My talisman can do it,” I said. “I can do it. Imagine what I can see from that side. Ivy did it, and she doesn’t even have the book.”

  “Ivy?”

  Ah. I hadn’t told him. So much had happened since that it’d quite honestly slipped my mind up until the half-faerie ghost had mentioned her name.

  “I had a visitor, the day you first showed up here,” I told him. “She looked like a ghost but wasn’t one. Ivy Lane. That’s what she said her name was. It was her who put the idea that we had to find the heir to Summer into my head, but I don’t think she meant to—it was Arden who interpreted what she said in that way. It’s not like I knew her, though she claimed we were distant relatives… and she had a faerie talisman.”

  His brows shot up. “She brought a talisman into Death?”

  “Apparently. It’s not like we had time to talk. I was convinced she was either working against us or a figment of my imagination, and I haven’t heard from her since. But she travelled all the way up here from England, along the Ley Line.”

  River looked at me with disbelief etched on his face. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

  “Trust me.”

  River’s mouth drew down at the corners. “I trust you. But whatever powers this Ivy person has, it’s not worth risking your own life.”

  “Then set up a tether,” I said. “Activate some candles as a backup and watch me while I try to move around the spirit lines. Then it won’t harm me if it doesn’t work. I have to at least try. Maybe I can even get into the Vale.”

  “And can you guarantee you’d make it out?”

  He had me there. “You know how important this is.”

  “I know your life is more important to me than whoever decided to leave this task to you.” He spoke quietly, his head bowed a little, his fair hair falling into his eyes.

  My throat closed up. “And if my mum did it? Just let me try. I’m trusting you to watch me on this side, okay?”

  He gave a sharp nod. “Right. But the slightest sign of danger and I’m bringing you back into this realm. I don’t think the person who made that book intended its wielders to have long lives.”

  “Great-Aunt Enid did fine,” I answered.

  “Did she ever have to do anything like you have?”

  “Maybe. I’d need to read the rest of this to find out.” I held up her journal. “But I want to try the spirit lines before it gets dark outside.”

  Once we reached the mausoleum, I had a look around to see if there’d been any new disturbances. None. Grandma’s ghost had moved on, so there were no residents here, but the amount of iron built into the walls kept out hostile presences. River set up the candle circle while I skimmed to the last section of the talisman book. I already knew what I’d find there. This was the way into the Vale—by disconnecting from my body, and risking certain, permanent death from which there would be no return.

  If Mum had known how dangerous it was, she surely wouldn’t have passed the book on to me. But nobody from her own generation had claimed it, and from what I’d read of Great-Aunt Enid’s journal, she hadn’t told a soul.

  I swallowed down my complicated feelings on Mum’s decision, and walked up to the circle of twelve candles. River had spaced them out so I had room to sit between them. I climbed carefully into the circle, making the mistake of meeting his concerned stare.

  “I want to do this,” I told him. “And I trust you to hold the rope. Okay?”

  “I won’t let go, Ilsa.”

  He spoke the words with all the intensity of a faerie vow. If I’d had faerie magic, those words would have bound his soul to mine. My mouth dropped open, taken aback, and he kissed me hard. His hands gripped my shoulders firmly, saying more than words could. Then he let go and took a step back.

  I slipped out of my body. He was there, too, a pale shape floating beside the circle of candles. I drifted out of the circle, towards the necromancers’ place. A thin line appeared beneath my feet, faintly silver in colour. The same colour as the light around my body. I moved and my spirit did, zipping down the line.

  I stopped abruptly, staring around. I’d ended up somewhere I didn’t know, beside a grassy hill surrounded by forests and fields. Must be another liminal space. Some faeries had hidden in these spaces before the invasion. Nobody could harm me as a ghost, but hellhounds and other creatures were known to wander the spirit lines. Probably from the Vale. It was all connected, after all.

  I could get to Edinburgh from here.

  I turned south, and continued to drift. Occasionally, I spotted other spirit lines intersecting with this one. Edinburgh was easy to find—a tangle of lines, lit up like a beacon. No wonder it was such a hot spot for ghosts. Other spirits drifted around, and I faltered, not wanting to run into any necromancers. I’d have a job and a half explaining how I’d travelled so far from my body.

  I floated back north into the countryside, then stopped, my skin prickling. Someone was following me.

  “Hey, you. Wait.”

  I spun around. A woman appeared on the hillside, striding towards me with purpose.

  10

  “Speak of the devil.”

  Ivy Lane herself floated above the line, with the same confidence as she had when she’d walked through our living room wall.

  Ivy paused before me, looking me up and down. “Believe it or not,
that’s not the first time I’ve been called that. I know you.”

  “Ilsa Lynn,” I said. “Gatekeeper.” There was no hiding what I was here in Death.

  Her gaze went to my forehead, and her eyes widened. “No kidding. I guess it’s my turn to ask how you got here.”

  “Let’s just say there have been changes since we last saw one another,” I said. “Turns out my family have necromancy in the bloodline, too.”

  “Well, that explains some things,” Ivy said. “I was actually on my way to speak to your sister. Or your mother.”

  “She’s not around.” I weighed the odds, then came out with it. “Actually, she’s in the Grey Vale, on the orders of the Sidhe.”

  Ivy’s brows shot up again. “I should have asked more questions when we spoke before.”

  “Most of this is recent. This is the first time I’ve been here, for a start. How are you doing it?” Her body was outlined in blue light that hadn’t been obvious when I’d seen her as a ghost before. My gaze snapped right to the source—the sword at her waist, glowing so brightly it looked almost solid.

  Her eyes followed the direction of my gaze. “My magic is… different. You?”

  “Same here.”

  The hint of a smile came to her lips. “I guess it’s fitting that I ended up speaking to you and not your sister.”

  “Who sent you? I never had chance to ask.”

  “Nobody did. I came of my own volition.” Her fingers traced the hilt of her blade. “A year ago, things went… wrong, in Faerie. Around the same time, I found out I had family. But I didn’t know where you were, or who you were. The communication lines with Faerie were kinda screwed up for a bit. We’re still rebuilding them. I had no idea there was anyone with such a close link to the Courts in this realm.”

  “Most of our business is in Faerie, not here,” I said. “Mum’s is, anyway. But things are screwed up now, too. That’s why I’m floating around here looking for answers. Can I get into the Vale through here?” I indicated the pale silvery line beneath our feet.

  Ivy gave me an appraising look. “Yeah, you can. You might not be able to get out. Necromancers who know Death really well can… Frank the necromancer did, but he’s already dead.”

  “Who’s Frank the necromancer?”

  “A necromancer Guardian, and one of the Council of Twelve.”

  That rang a bell. “My mum knows the council. My sister doesn’t, but she was due to meet them…”

  “They’re gathering in Edinburgh right now, actually. That’s where my body is.”

  “Seriously? You’re that close?” I stared at her. “Wait, is the necromancer guild meeting with them as well?”

  Her expression twisted with incredulity. “Don’t tell me you’re involved with them, too.”

  “Yeah. If anyone’s mentioned a raving mad ghost sending a supernatural fae monster to attack psychics, my siblings and I are the ones who stopped it.”

  Ivy shook her head. “I should have come looking for you sooner. When they called the meeting here, I came all the way from the Midlands with a group of mages, not to mention half a witch coven and a bunch of shifters and necromancers. You shook up the Ley Line all through England.”

  “The ghost did, technically,” I said. “But she was working with half-faerie ghosts from the Vale, and some of them are still out there. They’re plotting against both this realm and the Courts.”

  They’d also blamed Ivy for their predicament. But even here on the spirit line, with both of us transparent and floating insubstantially between worlds, she wasn’t someone I wanted to cross. That blade of hers glowed brighter than the silver light. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The book stirred in my hand where I held it at my side, like the blade called to it, too. A silver glow spread up my arm.

  Ivy’s gaze went to the book. “So that’s how you got here. I’ve never seen a talisman in that form before.”

  “You’ve seen others?” My voice rose in surprise.

  She tapped her blade’s hilt. “Aside from Helena? No.”

  I blinked. “You… named your sword? Or is it an official title? Mine doesn’t have one.”

  The book stirred in my hand again. Ivy looked at it, frowning. “No, it’s just a nickname. Do you have faerie magic?”

  “No, but my sister does. We’re both fully human, but only one person gets the Summer Gatekeeper’s magic. Are you human?”

  “I am,” she confirmed. “But that book… how’d you get it?”

  “Inherited it,” I said. Something told me I could trust her, but part of me remained wary. “It woke up when our family was attacked by the dead.”

  I summarised what the Winter Gatekeeper had done. Ivy looked aghast. “Damn. I wouldn’t have expected it of a human.”

  “The half-faeries who attacked us mentioned your name. They said you got them trapped in the Vale.”

  “Shit,” said Ivy. “I should have known some of them escaped. There was a war… some half-faeries chose the losing side, because the enemy promised they’d get to be immortal. I guess this new enemy is probably doing the same. They don’t take much convincing.”

  Well, damn. “Even though the Sidhe aren’t immortal? It’s true?”

  “They aren’t,” Ivy said. “Yeah. Can’t say I know how that Winter Gatekeeper found out, but given how the Sidhe are prone to murdering one another, I doubt it took long for word to spread throughout Winter.”

  “You… you saw how it happened?” A suspicion seized me. “You caused it.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” said Ivy. “Someone tried to hijack the immortality source to create an army of immortal soldiers, so I had to destroy it. I’m trusting you not to share that with them, by the way. They think the villain did it. It’s easier to have them believe one of their own was the cause. And it kind of was, because he pushed me into a corner.”

  “I… don’t want to think of what they might do to you for that.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about.” She ran a hand over her blade’s hilt again. “I’ve had to put down a half-dozen schemes since, but this is the first I’ve encountered where they’re using human necromancy. There’s no way to permanently bring someone back from death… not in the sense that their body is already dead, anyway. You can reattach a spirit if the body is alive. You can heal a body from the brink of death or stave it off with certain types of magic. But unless the Sidhe had a backup plan, there is no way for immortality to return in the normal sense.”

  “Backup plan?” I said. “What was the first plan?”

  “A cauldron of blood with the ability to create new bodies from scratch.” She grimaced. “Turns out it doesn’t hold up well to an Invocation.”

  “Is there any type of faerie magic you can’t use?” I asked her.

  She gave a wry smile. “I’m not supposed to have stayed here this long… if you’re able to come and speak to the council in Edinburgh, I’ll be there a while. I can tell you more in person.”

  “That’s on the plan,” I said. “Once we’ve figured out who sent Mum into the Vale.”

  “I wish I could help you,” Ivy said. “There’s no guarantee of being able to find a specific person in the Vale. And it sounds like the vow she’s under might not allow her to return with you.”

  “I was afraid of that,” I said.

  Ivy’s body had turned even more transparent, while her blade wasn’t glowing as brightly as before.

  “I’m fading,” she said. “You’re not, but… if this is your first time here, I wouldn’t stay too long. My fiancé is pretty insistent about watching me. I take it you have someone watching over you too?”

  I nodded. “I do. I’ll come and find you later.”

  Ivy shimmered all over with blue light, then disappeared.

  I turned around. I couldn’t tell which way I’d come along the path. That… might be an issue. The world beneath was leached of colour, rolling hills and fields and mountains seen through a filter. Grey fuzziness outlined everything
. The only solid thing was the book, faintly pulsing with white light. I flipped it open, then focused hard. The shape of a grey path began to appear. A thrill sang through me. The Vale. Mum.

  I was on the cusp. Putting one foot over the line into the Vale wouldn’t do any harm, right? Not with the book blazing in my hands, filling me with boundless power.

  My foot rested on the edge of the path as though my thoughts had brought it closer. Mum’s here. I know she is. But something held me back. Finding Mum wouldn’t lead us to the enemy. The traitors, the Vale outcasts, were inside the Court itself. Not the Vale.

  River’s face appeared before my eyes. Everything went fuzzy, and the next second, I lay on the floor of the mausoleum, my body aching with cold. My limbs felt like dead weights as I tried to lift my hand to check it still worked. The candles flared brighter—he must have activated them to shock my body into waking up.

  River’s hand was so warm, I yelped when he grabbed me. “Ilsa. God, you’re freezing cold.”

  He pulled me upright, knocking candles aside. I wrapped my arms around him, craving his warmth. “Why’d you do that?” I said through chattering teeth.

  “Because your heartbeat slowed to a crawl and scared the shit out of me.” He removed his coat and wrapped it around me. “Walk,” he said. “It’ll help.” He was shaking, maybe with fear or anger, maybe because as a Summer faerie, being hugged by an ice block probably wasn’t pleasant.

  By the time we came within sight of the garden, the sensation had somewhat come back to my limbs. River, however, looked as though he was about to pass out at what I’d told him.

  “The Sidhe can die?” he said. “I didn’t hear what the Winter Gatekeeper said… but it explains how she hoped to dominate them. Any of the Sidhe might be desperate enough to work with humans if it means getting their immortality back.”