by Kaje Harper
Locke said, “There might be some other explanation. Let me check Catellus’s Magical Entities.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He took the chair beside Darien, stretching the cord to its limit.
Across the table, Clarice and Annie sat close together. Clarice patted Annie’s hand on the tablecloth, and asked, “How does something like a ghoul end up in our small town? There’s never been mass deaths— We didn’t even have a Civil War battle, or a tornado.”
Silas rubbed his lips with a fist. “Well, the only ones I remember reading about were associated with battlefields, but maybe Locke will find out more. He’s checking his books.”
“Can they cross the Veil?” Annie asked. She was small and quiet, plain-looking beside Clarice, but Clarice looked at her like she’d hung the moon.
“I don’t know. Something else I hope Locke can find out.” Silas straightened and turned his attention to the phone as Locke mumbled something. “Go on…”
Clarice made a gesture, forming an apple-green cone of light at the receiver, and suddenly Locke’s voice came through clearly to them all. Silas raised his eyebrows and held the earpiece away from his head. He was just as glad not to have to do a recap for the others. Useful spell, that.
“All right,” Locke said, voice thin over the line. “Catellus didn’t have a good alternative. So I’m going to tentatively accept that it might have been a ghoul.”
Big of you. Silas said, “It’s a starting point.”
“True. The most complete record of a ghoul I remember came from World War One, after Gallipoli. Let me find it.”
There was a pause on the line, a distant thump and scuff sounds, then Locke returned. “Got it. There’s some frothing in here about the Ottomans and their heathen magic practices… but it’s not clear the ghoul favored one side over the other, and it didn’t appear to be controlled by them. The account says, ‘Necromancers reported the creature first, seeing it among the dead as they worked. Its aspect was fearsome, a dark miasma that could move swiftly, where a hundred hungry maws opened and closed as it sought to consume the dead.’” Locke’s tone went dry. “Someone fancied themselves a thriller writer.”
“Any details we can use?”
Locke cleared his throat and read, “‘The creature grew stronger over subsequent days. Necromancer Borden opined that it was gaining sustenance from the numerous dead, and perhaps the dying. His powers were unable to touch it, and Sorcerer Cardiff did no better. It would appear amidst the dead, snatch its prey, and vanish again. Borden followed it numerous times and said it seemed at home on either side of the Veil, and was too swift to pursue. As its strength grew, sorcerers who drew near to it felt a drain upon their power.’”
“Well, that’s not ominous or anything,” Darien muttered. “Both sides of the Veil.”
Silas had to agree. He imagined the ghoul appearing in Clarice’s warm kitchen and hid a shudder. “Do they say if it ate the bodies as well as the shades? Or began to pursue the living?”
“That’s not clear.” Locke continued reading, “‘We made no progress in the next two months, as the Ottomans had our brave men pinned down…’ etcetera, etcetera… ‘Their sorcerers and ours did subtle battle—’ Okay, this next part isn’t about the ghoul… here we go. ‘A communication from the Guild historian in London arrived with a few details about the creature, now known to be a ghoul. There was no banishment spell made available to us, but by banding together, sorcerer and necromancer, we were able to drive it back and into the River at last. It was carried downstream, and although it did not dissolve or lose its foul scent, as far as the eye could follow, it did not reappear on that battlefield again.’ And that’s all there is in that one.”
“I don’t suppose they were kind enough to write down the runes or techniques they used?” Silas asked.
“No. They were careful not to reveal the details of practice on paper in the midst of a war, where it might be stolen. All word of mouth.”
“And no one wrote it down later? In case there might be another ghoul someday?” Silas heard his tone go dry, and reminded himself to be polite to Locke. It wasn’t Locke’s fault magic practice was plagued by secrecy.
“Borden and Cardiff were Brits. It’s possible there’s something in their archives. I can try calling someone overseas.” Locke paused. “You know, we’d begun to think talk of ghouls was battle fatigue, or illusion. There are only half a dozen mentions of them, in all the texts I know. They didn’t show up at all in World War Two, and you’d think if anything, the concentration camps would’ve been their element. Although perhaps Hitler’s dark sorcerers drove them off. Those bastards didn’t share a scrap of the life forces they stole.” Locke’s voice shook slightly.
Silas was silent, letting the older man collect himself. Silas was too young to have had firsthand knowledge of the evil done there, but Locke had fought overseas. After a pause, Locke said, “You’re sure that’s what you saw?”
“Unless an illusion can grab a shade away from me and haul it off and shred it. What else could it be?”
Darien suddenly broke in, “Did you hear where he said ‘sorcerer and necromancer, together’? We did manage to shove it that one time. Remember? When your shield and mine came together.”
“Yes!” Silas had missed that connection. “Good man. Listen, Locke, Darien reminded me that we seemed to have some effect on the ghoul once, when we had our shields pressed into merging.”
“You merged shields?” Locke sounded startled.
“Just the edges,” Silas said quickly. Last thing he needed was speculation about how he and Darien were close enough to do that. Darien raised an eyebrow, but Silas gave him a tiny shake of his head. “The thing is, that seemed to impact it. So maybe what’s required is a meld of both forms of magic, to trap and destroy it. Or at least, to drive it in the River as they did. If it doesn’t appear again for forty years, I’ll call it a win.”
“Interesting theory.” Locke’s voice went warmer. “It would be a hell of a paper to write for the next Guild conference, if we can do it. I’ll work on how you and I might create a combined rune structure.”
“You’d come down here?” He didn’t particularly want Locke’s cold rectitude intruding on their safe space here. He shifted in his seat, and the reminder of the pleasures of safety ached nicely. Although he’d far rather see Locke up against the ghoul, with his decades of skill and knowledge, than Darien, with his blazing power and inexperience and fearless enthusiasm.
“For something that rare? Indeed I would.” Locke cleared his throat. “It might take me a few days, but I can put in some research too. Perhaps a call to Olmsby over in London, to see what they have in their library.”
“Good idea—” Silas froze as a note like a low cello string rang through him. He closed his eyes and ran a quick check on his spell structures. The tether to Edwina Barstow was vibrating, a shiver marking the end linked to the old lady drawing nearer the Veil. Damn it, not now. He said quickly to Locke, “Any chance you could head out immediately? I have a local woman whose death is imminent, and it may be our best chance to get close to the ghoul.”
“Not till tomorrow at the earliest,” Locke said. “We need better information in any case. I’ll let you know what I hear, and when I’m prepared to assist you. I have Miss Clarice’s number. No sense going off half-cocked, you hear me. Wait for my call.”
“I hear you,” which doesn’t mean I’ll obey you. He’d felt the ghoul reach inside him as the shade was snatched from his arms, a chill touch that leached strength from him. What if there’s a tipping point where it gains enough power to start attacking the living directly? Can we afford to wait?
Locke hung up, and Silas stood to replace the receiver on its cradle. Clarice said, “‘Death is imminent’? Does that mean you think Edwina Barstow’s getting worse?”
“I set a tether on her that senses the nearness of the Veil. It’s warning me now. She’s not dead, but barring a miracle it won’t be long.�
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Darien shoved his chair back. “What do we do? Do we need to be near her?”
“The tether will help me find her shade when she passes, but I have to be ready to dive into the Veil. I can’t wait for Locke. Even if he’d been willing to set out now, it’s nearly a three-hour drive. I don’t think she has that long.”
Darien grinned, the blaze of it making him look almost the twenty-one he actually was. “Then it’s you and me.”
Not if I can help it.
“And us,” Grim said from where he’d stretched out on a warm patch of floor by the stove. “If it takes a mix of powers to defeat this thing, we might be of use.” Pip, sitting beside him, thumped his tail on the floor.
“You should ask Jasper,” Clarice suggested. “I’d offer to help, but the one time I went beyond the Veil with a necromancer, I had almost no power there. Nothing grows there. But Jasper is great at creative runecrafting, and he brought a big library with him when he came here. He could be of some help.”
“Do you trust him?” Silas hadn’t felt any deep aversion, beyond his stupid jealousy. Although I fell for Norgaard when he was ridden by a demon spell, so I’m not that great a judge, am I?
“He’s a friend. Not a close friend, but on the whole, seems like a good man.”
“You don’t think he summoned the ghoul?”
“I’d be extremely surprised.” Clarice looked at Annie, who also shook her head.
Darien said, “He’s a researcher. They tend to be obsessive. If he had a ghoul running loose, I don’t think he’d be focused on building magic bridges for cats.”
“Good point.” Spending life energy in rune building didn’t fit with a man who called a ghost-eater into being… unless he thought the ghoul might be able to feed him energy back somehow… “We’ll go talk to him,” he decided. He was at least an educated sorcerer close enough to be of use before the old lady passed. Worth a try.
The tether in his head chimed again, a soft ripple of sounds.
“Right now,” he said. “Ladies, thank you. Darien, get your coat.”
“Be careful,” Clarice said, more to Darien than him. “Remember that staying alive to try again another day is a reasonable goal.”
As they hurried down the steps, shrugging into their coats, Darien muttered, “Does she think I’m a coward? Or crazy?”
She thinks you’re young. There was no reason to assume the ghoul could kill anyone, but memory of the ache deep in his bones where that chill pull had been was a warning. For all Darien’s maturity— and his ability to turn me into a quivering mass of bottom boy satisfaction, damn it— Darien was young and dangerously inexperienced.
Silas made Darien drive, but Edwina Barstow hung on to life through the trip to Jasper’s house. And a damned good thing, since finding a place to do a circle along the route would’ve been difficult. Jasper didn’t answer his door when they knocked and rang the bell, but as they turned away from the step, he came out from the barn toward them. “Hello! Was I expecting you?”
“We have a problem, and we’re hoping you might help us figure it out.”
“A problem?”
Silas waited till Jasper was near enough to see the sorcerer’s expression in the waning daylight before asking, “Have you heard of a ghoul?”
He was watching for signs of guilty knowledge, so he didn’t expect Jasper’s face to light up with a smile. “Really? You think we might have a ghoul? They’re nearly mythical.”
“We saw one,” Darien said, less cautious than Silas. “The other side of the Veil.”
“You saw it? That’s amazing.” Jasper reached out to Darien, a hand on his sleeve. “Come along inside and tell me about it.”
Don’t touch him like that. Silas forced his attention to the current problem. The rune tether was vibrating faster. “We have to be quick. I’m keeping a rune-touch on Edwina Barstow and she’s failing fast. When she dies, I can follow the tether to her shade by the River. But I doubt she’ll hang about long. Old lady, long illness, no trauma, no reason for her to not just join the River.”
“Ah, right.” Jasper bounded up the steps and opened the door. “I’d love to hear about those runes sometime. Come in, through here, this is my work room.” He opened the door to a tidy little book-lined room, the floor of clean dark tiles perfect for chalk. “Do you want to set up a circle now?”
“I should, yes.”
Grim trotted past their legs and sat in the middle of the floor, his intent clear. Pip paused to jump up against Darien and lick his hand, then went and sat by Grim, clearly trying to mimic his posture, though the effect was not the same with his bat ears and vibrating tail.
Silas sighed. “The familiars will join me.”
“Join us.” Darien went and sat next to Pip. The little dog yipped delightedly and gave Darien’s face a tongue-swipe, before remembering himself and sitting back down.
Silas sighed louder. He’d hoped to leave Darien here as rear guard, but he wasn’t a fool. “Us.”
Jasper said, “So while we wait, can I contribute some research? I believe I remember mention of a ghoul in one of the books I bought from a necromancer a few years back. Let me think…”
“Clarice suggested if we needed novel runework, you’d be the one to ask,” Silas told him.
“Did she? How kind. I admit, I like nothing better than a puzzle.”
“How about a puzzle that’s trying to suck you dry?” Silas had a feeling his smile showed too many teeth. “I can’t promise this will be safe.”
Jasper gestured from his face to body. “Do I look like I play it safe? Hang on, I think I remember…” He went to one of the shelves and crouched down. “Now where is it?”
Edwina Barstow’s tether chimed in Silas’s head, the vibrations coming together, almost a final song. Silas grabbed his chalk out of his pocket and bent to his work, creating a strong defensive circle, big enough for all of them.
Jasper threw him a fast look. “Are we low on time?”
“Almost there.” His own words sounded far off over the ringing in his head.
“Well, the book’s missing. Maybe I misshelved it.” Jasper came and stood just outside the open gate of the circle. “Do you want me along?”
Silas paused, chalk in hand. Before he could answer, Darien said, “Hell, yes. I’m not much as a sorcerer yet. Come on!”
Jasper threw Silas a quick look, then turned and tapped the doorframe of the room. “Added wards. Can’t hurt, right?” He stepped neatly though the opening, brushing past Silas with a prickle of personal shields, and held a hand down to Darien, hauling him to his feet.
Darien took the boost. Damn it. Silas bent and drew the locks, closing the circle, throwing a chunk of his power into it. The green haze sprang up around them, and Jasper’s eyebrows rose. Yeah, I can pack some volts. Trying to push stupid feelings aside, Silas turned to face the others. Edwina Barstow’s song tugged along the tether, notes rising to sharpness.
“Going now.” He gathered his intent, chanted the spell in his head, and opened a portal to the Veil across the span of the circle. The dark fog roiled up and closed in around them.
He flipped one hand over, called light to his palm. On the other side of Jasper, Darien did the same. Two lights were redundant, but Silas liked having that golden glow visible out of the corner of his eye. He tilted his head, fighting the twanging of the tether in his mind, listening for the call of the River. There? Edwina Barstow’s tether hummed with one sharp note, then suddenly went silent.
“She’s gone. We have to run.” There. In the silence, the River’s pull was unmistakable. He set out as fast as the dimness allowed, with Grim leaping at his side. Behind him, the others’ steps were muffled but close.
They broke out of the Veil after a few minutes. The River glittered, unchanging as ever, the banks deserted even though around the world, people were dying every second. His mentor had said that the River was in a slightly different place for every person, like pages in a book. One
of the skills of necromancers was to pierce through the pages and join someone else’s Riverland. Silas clung to the now-silent tether and thought of the runes for pull and closer and together. He hummed their names to himself, reeling in the tether, feeling a weight at the end.
Edwina Barstow appeared out of the Veil. She wasn’t young, but here in this half-world she stood tall, her face mostly unlined, her hair frosted gray, not white. She took two steps toward them and smiled. “Is this Heaven?”
Shades seldom spoke, but the ones who died easily were sometimes the most intact.
“Not yet,” Silas said gently. “You have to cross that River.” He pointed.
“Oh, that’s lovely. But I never learned to swim.”
“The water will carry you.”
She inclined her head to him and came forward, heading for the bank.
Jasper murmured, “Wouldn’t it make sense to hold her here for a bit?”
As bait? As prey? Jasper hadn’t seen the ghoul, but Silas had. It wasn’t theoretical for him. If the ghoul missed this one, at least it would grow no stronger either.
Silas’s moral dilemma was solved by the reek of dead meat, carried on a rising wind. “It’s here.” He spun on his heel, searching for it.
“There!” Darien’s tone went high and he pointed.
It swept toward them. Silas tried to tell if it was bigger or more solid, but the nauseating pulsing of mouths and hands were distracting.
“Run!” Darien told the shade. “Run to the River!”
She glanced at him, then at the ghoul. “What’s that?” Her voice wasn’t half as afraid as it should’ve been.
“What do we do?” Darien pivoted to watch as the ghoul swept close, between them and the river now. Silas stepped up to his back.
“Fascinating,” Jasper murmured, although a shimmer of blue around him showed he’d powered up his shields. For all the good they seem to do. “It is a ghoul.”