Against a Brightening Sky

by Jaime Lee Moyer

  We joined Stella on the porch. Tiny china cups sat in front of each doll and stuffed toy. A small teapot and a plate from the kitchen, heaped with sugar cookies, sat in the center of the circle.

  “Coming outside to have a party was a wise decision. It’s a beautiful day.” Dora crinkled her nose, making Stella giggle. “And packing away clothes sounds boring. Is Connor helping your mother?”

  “Annie took him to the backyard. He was in the way.” She fussed with the doll’s hair, twisting curls around her fingers, and smoothed the front of Annabelle’s dress. “I wanted to have my party in back, but Connor runs off with my dolls.”

  Dora put a hand on my shoulder and leaned close, speaking quietly. No doubt she thought to keep Stella from overhearing, but the sidelong glances Stella gave us told a different story. “I’d like a moment to talk to Sadie alone, but we’ll need Connor to bind the charm properly. Be a pet and take Stella with you to collect him. Give me just a minute before all of you come up.”

  The three of us went in the front door. Jack’s voice came from upstairs and Sadie’s laugh soon followed. Dora blew Stella a kiss and hurried up the stairs to find them, calling to Sadie as she went.

  I strolled through the entry hall and toward the dining room, holding tight to Stella’s hand and listening to her talk to her doll. All the years I’d lived in this house with Esther and Sadie didn’t stop me from feeling like an intruder, a stranger that no longer had a place here.

  Small changes contributed to that: furniture that had been moved, new pictures that had been hung, vases and small mementos of Jack and Sadie’s life together in curio cabinets. My home was with Gabe now, I knew that, but the realization that this would never be home again struck me hard. That was new.

  The restless unease that had plagued me all morning increased tenfold, growing stronger still as Stella and I entered the kitchen. Eyes opened in my head as the watcher woke. The dragon growled a warning, a low rumble that filled my chest and made me dizzy. I couldn’t ignore how I felt or keep pretending the overwhelming need to be cautious was merely a product of too little sleep and nerves stretched thin.

  Both doors to the utility porch stood open to let in air, the screen door into the backyard a thin barrier to keep the bugs outside where they belonged. I heard voices from the yard, Annie and a man’s voice I didn’t recognize, and the muted sound of Connor crying.

  “Stella, stay right here.” I lifted her into one of the kitchen chairs, far back from the screen door and any chance of being seen. “Be very quiet, sweetheart. Don’t move unless I say it’s all right.”

  Her eyes grew round, and she hugged her doll tight, but Stella nodded and did as I asked without questioning. I crept onto the porch, being careful to stay well back from the screen and the windows facing the yard. The relative darkness inside would let me see out without being seen myself.

  Or so I hoped.

  Annie stood under the big shade tree holding Connor. The lines in her face were deeper, harsher looking than I’d seen just a few days before. I lied to myself that it was a trick of the light, wanting to believe the bright sunshine was to blame for how she appeared, not that she’d edged closer to death.

  Connor’s face was buried in Annie’s shoulder, muffling his sobs. Ghosts crowded around them, both the freshly dead who looked almost alive, and those faded haunts who were long buried. My throat grew tight, knowing how terrified he must be. Many of the phantoms crowded close to reach for Connor, but stopped short of touching him or stroking his hair.

  All the charms that Dora and I had laid around the yard, layered on the house and anything belonging to Connor, were meant to shut out ghosts completely. Something had caused all of them to fail. I thanked God they still functioned well enough to protect him from a spirit’s touch.

  Reverend Grant, the new pastor of Annie’s church, stood in the shade with them. He reached toward Connor as well, but stopped short before his hand touched the little boy’s head. His movements were the mirror image of the entire host of spirits filling the backyard, a puppet master pulling a web of strings. Pastor Grant frowned and tried again, straining to reach the little boy in Annie’s arms. His face blurred for an instant, features slipping to resemble another man.

  “Oh dear, God … no.” I whispered charms as fast as I could, strengthening everything Dora and I had labored to put in place, and adding more layers where I could. Stalling for time was all it amounted to, but I needed time to summon Dora. I knew better than to face this necromancer alone.

  Pastor Grant looked toward the house, scowling. I slid along the back wall of the porch and back into the kitchen. Stella still sat in the chair, quiet and frightened. Memories of the parade and the aftermath sat in her eyes, as well as the trust that I’d keep her safe again this time. I scooped her up and carried her into the dining room. That was as far as I dared go. I put Stella down and knelt in front of her, putting myself eye to eye with the little girl.

  “I need you to do something for me, Stella. Listen carefully, sweetheart.” I brushed curls back off her face with a shaking hand. “Run upstairs just as fast as you can and tell Aunt Dora I need her. Tell her it’s very, very important she come right away. Can you do that for me?”

  “I can do that.” Stella frowned and patted my cheek. “Should I tell Aunt Dora you’re scared?”

  “Yes, tell her I’m very scared.” I hugged her tight and turned her toward the stairs. “Now, go quick as you can. Make sure you and your mama stay upstairs. No matter what, stay in the house.”

  I watched Stella climb the first few steps and rushed back into the kitchen. The dragon’s low growl rang in my ears, urging me to hurry. This time I didn’t try to hide my arrival or conceal that I could see out in the yard from inside the porch. I called Annie’s name loudly and shoved open the screen door, careful not to step over the threshold. The wards around the house were older, stronger. I didn’t think he could cross those.

  If he could, this man would already be inside.

  “Annie! Oh, there you are.” I smiled and nodded to the man wearing Pastor Grant’s face. Keeping up a pretense of normality would win me time as well. “Sadie wants you to bring Connor inside to get changed. Dora and I are taking them to lunch.”

  Pastor Grant stepped forward, his kind, puzzled expression a startling contrast to the gleam in his eyes. Ghosts trailed behind him, row upon row of spirits that stretched beyond the back fence. That he made no attempt to hide them meant he didn’t know I could see. “Have we met, sister?”

  But that was another pretense on his part, another attempt to fool me into thinking him less dangerous. The day he’d hidden on my porch, I’d seen through his illusions. This same man had crept around my house in the dark and failed to cross my boundaries. He had to know who and what I was.

  “Several times.” Best to leave no doubt or room for misunderstanding. I sketched a warding glyph on the screen, and the watcher rumbled approval. Now wasn’t the time to be coy or subtle, not if I wanted to get Connor and Annie safely away. I prayed for Dora to hurry. “I’m surprised you don’t remember.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me, sister, my eyes are failing.” He took another step away from Annie and toward me. I wanted him closer still. My chances of getting Connor and Annie safely away were better with distance between them. “Come here so I can see your face.”

  “Delia Ann Ryan, mind your manners and stop embarrassing me. I taught you better than that.” Annie shifted Connor to her other shoulder. He was crying inconsolably, red faced and sobbing with his eyes tight shut. Annie patted his back in a distracted way, more concerned with scolding me than with Connor’s distress. That wasn’t at all like her. She moved to within a handbreadth of Pastor Grant. “Step over here and introduce yourself to Pastor Grant properly.”

  All the protective and prohibitive charms were keyed to Connor. Nothing we’d put in place stopped the necromancer from putting his hand on Annie’s arm, or patting her shoulder, or slipping an arm aroun
d her waist as her knees gave way. Ghosts crowded closer, phantom hands that couldn’t grasp Connor reaching for Annie instead.

  Stepping out the back door was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Losing the woman who’d helped raise me, a woman I loved dearly, would be harder.

  The watcher filled my head again, showing me things I’d not see on my own. Ghosts were part of this man’s strength, his to summon and command, and a source of power to draw on. Why the necromancer had been so frightened of my ghost-eating gray cat became clear.

  I banished ghosts as I crossed the yard, using charms I knew well and words whispered by the dragon. Spirits vanished rapidly, thinning the crowd around Annie and Connor, but there were still far too many. I prayed for enough time to turn the odds in my favor.

  What the dragon couldn’t show me was how to get Annie away from this man, and with her, Connor. Dragging her away was out of the question, as was letting this man get close enough to touch me. He’d turn my connection to ghosts and the spirit realm against me. I kept telling myself there had to be a way. I couldn’t let myself believe otherwise.

  I circled around him, staying just out of reach, and forcing him to turn in order to keep me in sight. Seeing Annie drooping in his arms was difficult, as was watching his face shift faster and faster. His control was slipping as he turned all his power toward keeping a wall of spirits between us, his features never settling into the face of one man for more than an instant. I whispered banishing charms faster, counting each ghost that vanished a step toward victory. Just as quickly, he summoned more into existence.

  He never said a word in return, nor uttered a spell to counter mine. It was an odd, silent struggle, one I’d never imagined being involved in, but no less serious or deadly for the lack of battle cries.

  Connor was mindless with panic. He kicked and shoved against Annie’s hold, fighting with all his strength to break free and slip to the ground. Each ghost the necromancer called added to his terror. I couldn’t believe Annie was able to keep hold of the squirming, flailing little boy, but that too was a result of the necromancer’s power.

  The screen door slammed. Dora ran across the lawn to my aid, weaving charms of her own as she came and strengthening my efforts. What I hadn’t expected to see was Jordan Lynch at her side, his long-barreled Colt in hand. How he managed to run on his bad leg, I couldn’t say, but he kept pace with Isadora.

  Annie’s eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the ground, limp and unmoving. Connor fell on top of her, oddly quiet and clinging to Annie with all his strength. The necromancer reached for him and Dora yelled in a language I couldn’t understand, words whose power made the dragon roar and caused the world to spin around me.

  Words whose power brought the necromancer up short. The wall of ghosts between us vanished.

  I swept Connor into my arms and found myself staring into the clouded eyes of the man I’d seen in the shadows of my porch. This was his true face, I was sure of that, not an illusion or the doppelgänger of a man he’d killed. This was the face I needed to remember, the face I needed to search for in my dreams.

  He backed away from Annie and from me, calling new ghosts to himself and bleeding them for the power to wrap himself in illusion. Spirits vanished as quickly as they appeared, all their substance gone. The startled expression on Jordan’s face and the bitter frustration on Dora’s told me they couldn’t see him now. As far as they saw, the necromancer had vanished into the air.

  That I was the only one to see him run from the yard out to the street was equally frustrating. Even if I gave chase, I’d no hope of catching him and no way to keep hold of him if I did.

  And I didn’t dare leave Connor alone. Going after the necromancer meant leaving him behind, at the mercy of phantoms and haunts, and in very real danger of losing his sanity. Wrapping my protections around the little boy was second nature now, taking no more than a thought. Connor huddled against me, shivering and hiccuping, face buried in my shoulder as he cried. I fought not to cry myself. He was so small.

  Dora dropped to her knees next to Annie, rapidly whispering incantations and sketching glyphs on Annie’s skin. Each glyph glowed briefly before vanishing. Isadora placed her hands over Annie’s heart, on her forehead and throat, and back over her heart. The dragon watched through my eyes but didn’t interfere.

  That the dragon remained quiet filled me with both hope and despair. Hope that Dora’s attempt to break the necromancer’s hold was going to work, despair that the watcher’s silence meant there was no saving Annie. I hugged Connor tight and rocked him side to side, feverishly praying I hadn’t sacrificed one person precious to me to save another.

  Jordan hovered around all of us, his expression mirroring my own helplessness and anger, and the battle he fought with his cop instincts to give chase. He kept his Colt to hand, watching the corners of the yard and the shadows. I didn’t blame him for being wary. If this man returned, Jordan might not see him until it was too late.

  Annie groaned, flailing her arms and attempting to bat away Dora’s hands. The chants Isadora muttered changed and all the fight went out of Annie, leaving her limp and resting easy. I did cry then.

  “Jordan, would you hold Connor for a minute?” He looked doubtful, but I wiped my eyes on a sleeve and held Connor out to him. “I need to help Dora. It will be all right, I promise. That man is gone.”

  “I’ll take your word on him being gone, Delia. The way he disappears—I couldn’t say one way or another.” Jordan holstered his gun and held his arms out. “It’s been a lot of years since my boy was this small, but I remember he only wanted his mama when he got scared. Connor looks like he’s had a rough time of it already, and I don’t want to frighten him more.”

  “It’s only for a minute or two.” I kissed Connor’s cheek and handed him over. “And I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice.”

  Jordan wasn’t wrong about all Connor had been through, but the little boy relaxed from the start and rested his head on the big man’s shoulder. He patted Connor’s back. “You’re safe now, son. Rest easy and we’ll go find your mama real soon.”

  Between the two of us, Dora and I got Annie on her feet. She looked dazed, confused about where she was and what had happened. We slowly made our way across the yard with her, Jordan following a step behind and holding tight to Connor.

  Sadie waited on the other side of the screen door, wringing her hands but obeying my orders to stay indoors. Sam and Jack stood just behind her. I could well imagine that Dora had issued her own orders not to cross the boundaries around the house.

  Annie was even more confused by the fuss everyone made about getting her inside and seated in a kitchen chair. Sam and Jordan stood back, staying out of the way as Sadie bustled to get Annie’s shawl and make her a cup of tea. Jack stood with them holding Connor close, as if he’d never let his son go again. Grim expressions mixed with relief on everyone’s faces.

  Stella stood with her back against the swinging door into the dining room, clutching Annabelle, looking small and alone, ashen with fright. I picked her up, angry beyond words at how hard she trembled and that this man—this killer—had terrified her so deeply for a second time.

  I looked up to see Dora watching us. The same anger sat in her eyes and the same silent promise.

  There wouldn’t be a third time.

  Gabe

  Gabe paced Jack’s sitting room, waiting for Dee and Isadora to come downstairs. They’d sealed all the windows and doors downstairs, layering protections on top of the ones already in place, and moved on to the second floor. The house would be a spiritual fortress when they finished, on a par with Dora’s house and his own.

  A fortress would keep this man out. The drawback was that shutting him out meant Sadie and the children were trapped inside. Even the backyard was off-limits, at least until they caught this man. Gabe clenched his fists and swallowed the anger threatening to choke him. Punching a hole in the wall wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  Sam and
Jordan had gone to stay with Alina and make sure an officer saw Libby home. As skeptical as Libby Mills still was about spirits, telling her why she needed protection wouldn’t be an easy job. Gabe didn’t envy Sam the task.

  He had most of the squad out on the street, working in groups of two or three, and under strict orders to stay together. Dora had agreed that was a wise precaution, one that would keep the necromancer from replacing an officer and walking away in plain sight. The man they were after was capable of some strange and incredible things, things that Gabe had a hard time believing. That made catching him even more difficult.

  Dora didn’t hold out much hope of his men being able to find this man. The only one who knew what the necromancer’s real face looked like was Delia, and the thought of sending her out to hunt for a killer made his skin crawl. He ran his fingers through his hair, counting how many men he could pull from the next shift. The entire squad was spread thin with rotating guard shifts at Libby’s settlement house, keeping an eye on Dora’s place, and handling the day-to-day cases that came their way.

  “Sit down, Gabe.” Jack lounged on the settee, his bandaged foot propped up on a cushion. He gestured toward an overstuffed chair, whiskey from his glass sloshing onto his hand. “Wearing a hole in my carpet won’t hurry things along.”

  He dropped into the chair, slouching and stretching his long legs out. “You might as well admit it, Jack. You’d be pacing with me if not for your leg.”

  “I never denied that, Captain Ryan. And if you weren’t on duty, you’d be drinking with me.” Jack lifted his glass in a toast before taking another sip. “I trust Dora and Delia completely, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep at night until we find this man. I know Sadie won’t.”

  Once they’d gotten Annie to bed and Dora had reassured them Connor was unharmed, Sadie broke down completely. How distraught and shattered she was frightened Jack and Delia as much as or more than Annie’s near miss. Sadie was stronger than any of them, and they all depended on her being calm and unwavering. Seeing her undone was sobering.