Gazing around at the spirit gathering, I felt a great need to be home again. My home, in the Vic, that special room somewhat in between the mortal and spirit worlds—with all my friends and family around me.
"Let's adjourn to the Round Room," I said. "Where this half-mortal, half-spirit family can relax, hold a séance, and share our stories with one another."
I gazed out over the blackened spires and winding paths of Dead Town to the shimmering Dead Sea beyond. I took one last look at the muted gray skies and shifting ectoplasm and the misty, cavorting spirits, now grouped so thickly on the roof of All's Hold. I gathered my friends and family around me: Sam, Dad, the Paranormals, two bat-dogs, and my spirit boyfriend, Emmett. At last, we were all ready to go. I held out my ring, located the nearest portal, and with a twist, we were off.
END
OR IS IT?
More Despair 'verse adventures to come in
A Spirit Prince: Half-Ghosts Book One
Go to the next page for a sneak preview!
Chapter One
Hemmett Absorbs a Lesson
A jolt of energy zapped through me from the top of my hair to the tips of my toes. I gripped the desk and tried not to float through it.
"Mr. d'Espers-Fitzhugh! I've asked you not to shock me!" barked the boring mortal teacher.
I turned to see Ms. Cockleberry standing behind me, her suit smoking and her hair on end. Again.
I gritted my teeth in dismay. She'd gotten too close. And sometimes, if people startled me, I shocked them. By accident, I swear on Bellum's bells!
I'd just been minding my own business, way in the back of the schoolroom. I, Hemmett Bastyr d'Espers-Fitzhugh, found this mortal teacher's lecture extremely boring. She'd been blabbing on for nearly an hour about spectral script. I was raised on spectral script. It's the easiest thing around for a half-ghost such as myself.
The glow of the candles in this lecture hall always made me fuzzy and sleepy. I could hardly materialize in an alert manner. I'd been watching the others huddle over their desks. Little Seeva d'Espers wrote so fast, her pen lit up with blue sparks of spectricity. The enlivening energy of the spirit world—that's what Mother called it.
As I watched the bright blue patterns this created, I wondered why I wasn't better with the blue stuff. Seeva and her older siblings, the twins Evam and Saveema, all had marvelous control over their spectricity. My cousins all—and they were continually outdoing me.
I levitated up slightly to see what Aether, my twin sister, was doing. She sat right in front, her black curls bobbing and her elbow working. Taking notes.
Why, Aether? I thought. We'd been scripting since we crawled through our first wall. What did she need notes for?
Aether's such a know-it-all.
Behind me, the mortal teacher struggled to smooth down her frazzled hair. I hadn't meant to shock her, swear to cruxing All! Spectricity control! Why couldn't we learn that, instead of spectral script? Her lessons were so easy, our pet bat-Chi's at home could do them!
"I'm sorry," I said to the teacher. "But it's not my fault. Mother and Father say you should teach us how to keep from zapping mortals."
I made that up. So? Mother and Father founded this school along with the other parents of half-ghosts. If Ms. Cockleberry wouldn't listen to me, she'd take my parents' words seriously.
Ms. Cockleberry shook her head. "I'm a writing teacher," she said in a weary voice.
I could almost hear what she was thinking: just because his parents founded the school, this fifteen-year-old half-ghost thinks he can mouth off in class and ignore the lesson.
Then I got excited for a moment. Maybe I was finally developing seer abilities! I concentrated, listening for the thoughts of others around me. Silence. Nope. I'd only imagined the teacher's words. That was not mind messaging.
Several of the older, more studious half-ghosts, including Aether, shook their heads. I, Hemmett Bastyr d'Espers-Fitzhugh, desperately wanted to tell them to go down an Underwood portal. With much effort, I kept my royal mouth shut.
As the offspring of Heather d'Espers, the most talented and powerful spiritualist in a thousand years and Emmett Fitzhugh, an ancient, highly respected spirit, Aether and I were spirit royalty. We'd been sheltered by our parents and treated with deference by spiritualist mortals and spirits alike. They even called me Prince Hemmett. Spirits would actually bow.
Maxine and Joanny of the Vallejos clan were giggling at me now. Their older sister Jayn glared at them. Pompous Jayn bossed everyone around. The oldest of the Vallejos kids, Jayn had seven younger siblings in various combinations of ghost and mortal. She smiled at the teacher, a total suck-up as usual.
Ms. Cockleberry smiled back at Jayn and Aether. Teacher's pets!
"Back to our lesson: translating spectral script into mortal writing," droned the teacher. "This enables spirits to communicate with mortals across the divide and is much safer than texting in the spirit realm—Mr. d'Espers, will you please put the phone away?"
Oh, good All. Evam was texting again?
Evam withdrew a phone from his lap and shut it off. The Vallejos kids stirred and a few of them moved farther away from him. He shrugged and smiled while Jayn glared.
"Ms. Cockleberry!" Her voice was a grating whine. "You said Evam would be disciplined if he texted in class again. You know my family is allergic to electronics."
Ms. Cockleberry nodded at the mirrored candles that ringed the room. "True, Jayne. They aren't exactly safe for Evam either, or most of the kids in this classroom." She held out her hand, and Evam passed over his phone.
I snorted as Ms. Cockleberry placed the phone in her desk drawer, shoving around to make space. She took a phone away from Evam at least once a week and Evam just manifested another. Still, perfect Evam was in trouble! Even if it was only for texting, I reveled in his shame.
"Now, go see the Madame," said Ms. Cockleberry.
Evam picked up his books and strolled out through the wall, with nary a look back. He didn't seem at all ashamed, crux him. Ms. Cockleberry's face turned sour. She always requested everyone arrive and leave through the doors and abstain from walking through walls. I had no idea why.
"Oh, whateve!" said Maxine. "The Madame is his aunt. He'll be off the hook like that!" She snapped her fingers and blue sparks flew from them onto the open pages of her notebook. Flames curled up.
Before Ms. Cockleberry could react, Seeva d'Espers ran her cold, blue hands over Maxine's notes, extinguishing the flames.
"Whew! Quick thinking, Miss d'Espers," said Ms. Cockleberry, her eyes bugging out in alarm. "Miss Vallejos! I've warned you about setting fires!"
Maxine lowered her eyes.
Ms. Cockleberry turned to the board. "Now, if we can settle down and pay attention, you'll find transmogrifying spectral script is easier than it seems. Who can explain the difference between transmogrifying and translating?"
Aether's and Jayn's hands shot up.
I rolled my eyes. Unfortunately, I forgot about the headache this gave me, as my eyes just kept rolling and rolling.
"No one else?" said the mortal teacher.
Seeva's hand crept up.
"Miss d'Espers." The teacher smiled. "What is the difference?"
"Transmogrifying is to make the script all—movey. Translation means to use a decryption wheel to change the symbols to a mortal language," lisped Seeva, her voice almost inaudible.
Louder, Seeva, I thought. If only Seeva would make a run for teacher's pet and show up Jayn and Aether. But she had to be louder!
"Very good, Miss d'Espers. That's pretty close," said the teacher.
And she had to be correct, too. Seeva didn't know the first thing about transmogrifying. Making script move around—that was just for show. Kid's stuff. Real transmogrifying changed the unnature of things. Real transmogrifying meant crafting reality through skillful script.
"We didn't hear her!" I shouted from the back of the room. Next to me, Johnny Jr. and his brother Max Vallejos h
ooted in agreement. Unfortunately, then I floated out of my seat. I always had trouble staying materialized in a chair.
Ms. Cockleberry raised a critical eyebrow as I floated above my desk. "Perhaps if you sat closer to the rest of us, you'd be able to hear. You might absorb more of the lesson in the bargain."
Absorb the—? Oh, that was too much! I could sit still no longer!
"Oh, I can absorb it!" I flew out of my chair and whirled around the room twice, putting out most of the candles. Then I landed on the lesson book. I allowed my ectoplasm to sink deep into the book, until I disappeared from sight.
From the dark space inside the book, I heard the ruckus I'd caused. The teacher shouted, "Hemmett! Come out right now!" To Aether, she said, "Miss d'Espers-Fitzhugh, will you please relight our candles?"
I allowed my face to emerge from the book's surface. Aether, that goody-goody, was levitating up to light candles, using matches she dug out of her personal kriot. Many spirits wouldn't share from their kriot—the nearly bottomless space inside their ectoplasm where they stored collections of remembrances and random objects that connected them to the mortal realm. Aether made a big deal of showing off what a kind and giving unnature she had.
Aether sometimes said her mortal side made her kind and caring. Total crux. My mortal side had never felt one twinge of a giving unnature. And we have the same mortal side, from the same mother! Although sometimes it amazed me that Aether and I could be from the same family, much less twins.
I pushed my head up through the surface of the lesson book. I grinned and nodded at everyone, delighted that I looked like a disembodied head.
"I cruxed that up!" I said. "I tried to absorb the lesson and the lesson absorbed me!"
Maxine, Joanny, and Seeva cracked up. Johnny Jr. and Max cheered me from the back. Even Jayn and Saveema chuckled. I felt a smile stretch across my face. A blue glow emanated out of me.
Above us, Aether ignored me. She kept lighting candles with her back turned.
I'd fix her. I levitated higher, until my feet rested on top of the lesson book. Then I danced a crazy jig on it. I bowed, then touched the book with one foot. The book disappeared, absorbed into my kriot.
"Aha! Got it at last!" I shouted. "Ms. Cockleberry, the lesson is now fully absorbed! Praise the mighty All!"
I put one finger on the sentence of spectral script on the board. With my touch, the symbols shimmered and twisted like spiders on a web. I tapped the decryption wheel, easily spinning it across the board and morphing the symbols into English letters.
"What in All's crux do you make of that? I learned something!" I gasped and feigned amazement. "I got up close to the lesson and now it's a snap!"
I grinned at the laughing students and snapped my fingers. Maxine and Joanny immediately copied me. They set both their notebooks on fire. Seeva reached to put them out. Before she could, Aether held up her hand and the blue flames flew into her palm. Her hand lit up with a blue glow as she concentrated on containing the flames. Then she closed her hand and they disappeared.
Ms. Cockleberry's face had turned a curious shade of red. I heard a mortal expression for this once: blood pressure rising.
"You! Hemmett d'Espers-Fitzhugh! To the Madame! Out! Out!" shouted the teacher. "Misses Maxine and Joanny Vallejos, give me those notebooks! No more paper for you two. And Miss Aether d'Espers-Fitzhugh and Miss Seeva d'Espers—thank you." She held her arms wide in dismay. "The rest of you, settle down! I'm very disappointed in ninety percent of this class today. If this keeps up, we'll never master spectral script!"
"It looks like Hemmett already has mastered it," said Maxine, handing over the notebooks.
I gave Maxine a smile and a thumbs up.
"Besides, the Madame is his mother," said Joanny. "He'll be off the hook like—"
"Don't snap!" shrieked Ms. Cockleberry.
The class giggled and pointed at the board. Ms. Cockleberry spun around to view what I'd crafted there.
Learning spectral script is important shimmered and changed to read Hemmett rules the school!
I waved at Ms. Cockleberry, smirking. Now that was transmogrification! Maybe now she'd realize I didn't need elementary spectral script lessons. I disgorged the lesson book onto her desk, sticky with ectoplasm, and wafted through the wall.
I hovered on the other side of the wall. Then I dematerialized and snuck back into the classroom. I really didn't want to see Mother in her office for the fifth time that month. What I wanted was to hear what they were saying about me. With no telepathy or visions like the rest of my classmates, I'd had to work out other ways to find out what people thought.
Ms. Cockleberry still stared at the wall in disgust. Hates it when we go through the wall, I thought.
"Class is dismissed early today," she said.
Class didn't get out for another hour in ecto-time!
Ms. Cockleberry squinted at the ecto-clock on the wall. I suspected she couldn't really read it. I couldn't either, but maybe she didn't know she wasn't supposed to understand ecto-time. To spirits, time was meaningless and variable. Our method of time-telling was also. Ecto-time was a nonsensical system that represented this. I bet no one told her that yet. I snickered.
Several of the students gazed toward my location and Seeva even waved her hand around in the air like she felt my laughter. But they were too intent on getting out of there and if they sensed me, nobody told. They filed out of the door in the back like orderly mortals, their heads down. I stuck my tongue out at them.
Aether came to the front as soon as the rest of them left. She watched Ms. Cockleberry rub at my script words, still on the board. The eraser did not even smudge them.
"Let me." Aether touched my script and the words shimmered and faded. I growled. Know-it-all Aether. I'd done such a good job of impressing the board with my script! Aether washed it away like it was nothing.
Ms. Cockleberry gave Aether a watery smile. I fidgeted as a tear ran down the teacher's cheek. I made the mortal teacher cry?
"It must be difficult, trying to teach the children of ghosts and mortals," said Aether. "I'm sorry about Hemmett. He's advanced at spectral script. I've told Mother he needs private tutelage, but she thinks it's better for him to be among his peers."
"And you?" Ms. Cockleberry swallowed her tears and glanced at Aether's kaleidoscopic golden eyes, careful to avoid a direct look.
"Yes, I'm fairly advanced in writing spectral script too. I've been practicing since I was little. But I still enjoy your lessons." Aether smiled gently at the teacher. "I'll speak to our father. He can get through to Hemmett better than Mother can, I think."
I huffed. They all treat me like I was so difficult, such a problem. Maybe they were the problem!
"Thank you, Miss d'Espers-Fitzhugh," said Ms. Cockleberry. "For the record, you and Mr. d'Espers-Fitzhugh are both brilliant students and very accomplished. It's just that—"
Aether broke in. Her telepathy was excellent and she often picked up on others' thoughts before they could say them. "Hemmett's social skills leave something to be desired?"
"Exactly," said Ms. Cockleberry.
"Believe me," said Aether. "Our entire family is aware of the problem. It's why Mother wants him in school. She thinks it will calm him down. However, I know my brother. He'll never be happy sitting in a medium room, telling fortunes. I think he needs to take a spirit tour. Something more challenging, with real world experiences."
Ms. Cockleberry nodded. From my invisible spot against the wall, I nodded too. I hated to admit it, but Aether was right. Maybe she knew me better than I thought.
Aether pressed her cool hand on the teacher's arm, which left a slight blue impression. Ms. Cockleberry's face calmed and the stress lines smoothed.
"Feel better?" asked Aether, taking her hand away.
"Thank you, Miss d'Espers-Fitzhugh. I'll be fine. You don't have to use healing on me," said the mortal teacher. But she really did look a lot better.
I ground my teeth with frus
tration. Hemmett cruxes them up and Aether heals them. That's what they'll be saying about us next.
"Oh, it's my pleasure," said Aether. "I'll speak to Father. I think Hemmett's had enough of school for a while—or the school has had enough of Hemmett."
She bowed to Ms. Cockleberry and glided out. By the time Aether exited the door, she had evanesced, appearing only as a mist.
I whirled around the room several times, but in my insubstantial state, I didn't put out any candles. Disappointed, I flew down the hall and out the front door of the building. I stopped briefly to haunt the sign over the door: THE INTERSPIRITUAL ACADEMY OF PORTALES ESPIRITUALES.
I gave the sign a kick, but nothing connected. My foot just passed through the sign. Still, it felt good. So, the school'd had enough of Hemmett Bastyr d'Espers-Fitzhugh. And I, Hemmett Bastyr d'Espers-Fitzhugh, had indeed had enough of the school.
About Leslie Edens Copeland:
Leslie Edens Copeland lives in Bellingham, Washington. She writes far too often of ghosts, mortals, transdimensional aliens, paranormal gay love triangles, half-ghosts, portals, deadzines, and magical teenagers. She lives on a super-charged writing ley line with an 18-pound monster cat that may be a Calico puma in disguise, and a 14-year-old creative consultant. Together, they are TEAM DESPAIR, fighting for truth and justice and paranormal tolerance in novels everywhere! (cue triumphant music)
Spirits: Heather Despair Book Three is her third book. Preceded by Mortals: Heather Despair Book One and Portals: Heather Despair Book Two! Keep on rockin' in the Despair 'verse and Allspeed.
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