by E. E. Holmes
They all looked around at each other, at a loss for what to do. But something else had caught my eye. Over the window behind Keira, the curtain hung off to one side, its tassel swinging back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum.
Like a giant, ancient pendulum. I gasped.
Frantically, I clawed at my own jacket until I found the folded piece of parchment that Moira had given me and tore it open. I scanned it and then let out a sharp bark of excited laughter.
“It’s Lucida!” I cried.
Every face in the room turned to stare at me, startled, including Hannah’s.
“What about Lucida?” she asked, eyes wide.
“It’s Lucida! That’s how all of this started! She’s the Caller Eleanora was talking about, and she’s the reason we can’t piece Eleanora’s spirit back together!”
Keira narrowed her eyes at me. “I don’t follow. How can Lucida have anything to do with this?”
“Okay,” I said, beginning to pace as I talked through all the dots, connecting them as much for myself as for everyone else because though the light bulb had gone on, the details were still dim. “None of us could understand why or how Catriona could have brought a hostile spirit into the castle. We couldn’t understand how it Habitated in her without her noticing, or how it did so in a Warded room. But it didn’t, don’t you see? It wasn’t Catriona at all! It was Lucida!”
They did not see. Everyone was just staring blankly at me.
I went on, “You all read the diary. Eleanora was a Caller. She was targeted by the Durupinen leadership because they feared that she might be the Caller of the Prophecy. She was arrested and locked away in a príosún. Does anyone remember where that príosún was?”
I looked around expectantly, but everyone was still just goggling at me like I had sprouted an extra head that was now expounding on all of this.
“It was on the Isle of Skye! It was one of the last things she mentioned—how terrified she was of being sent away to the Isle of Skye. And it wouldn’t be a great leap to guess that she died there as well, since Callers were so feared. Well, just a few hours ago, Moira, the keeper of the Léarscáil, came to the hospital ward to find Celeste. She wanted to inform her of a strange pattern of spirit energy linking Fairhaven to the Isle of Skye. Look. Look at it!”
I shook the paper in Fiona’s direction and she took it from me, still looking somewhat frightened of my outburst. But I couldn’t calm myself. With every word I spoke, every thought I articulated, I grew more and more convinced that I was absolutely right.
“Hannah and I saw it! Mackie took us to see the Léarscáil for the first time a couple of days ago, and Moira was already recording some sort of spiritual disturbance connecting Fairhaven to Skye. We actually watched the pendulum link the locations together in a weird little loop, remember?” I turned eagerly to Hannah, who was nodding in confirmation, though she still looked confused. I went on, “So, Eleanora lived out her sentence in Skye and her spirit lingered there, for over 150 years until, at last, she encountered another Caller. Are you following me yet?”
Fiona gasped as the realization finally hit her. “Lucida is serving her sentence at Skye!”
I pointed to her like a mad professor proving a hypothesis. “Yes! I’m willing to bet she may be the first Caller ever to set foot there since Eleanora was alive. Maybe they talked to each other. Maybe they formed some kind of bond through their mutual suffering at the hands of this Council. But whatever happened, Eleanora tried to force her way through Lucida’s sealed Gateway.”
Hannah clapped her hand over her mouth. Several of the Council members gasped.
“Catriona wasn’t the source of the Shattering,” I said. “The Shattering didn’t even happen here. It happened hundreds of miles away in Skye. But somehow, when Eleanora Shattered, she Shattered right through Lucida’s and Catriona’s connection and the Shards wound up here! It’s the only explanation that makes sense!”
Keira rounded on Mrs. Mistlemoore, her expression incredulous. “Can that happen?”
Mrs. Mistlemoore shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t know. It… certainly seems to fit the evidence.”
Keira turned to one of the Scribes. “Is this possible?” she demanded.
The Scribe, a shrunken old woman, nodded slowly, looking very thoughtful. “I don’t know if it has happened before,” she said. “But it is possible, I believe, due to the nature of the connection between Passage and Key.”
“Just think about it!” I cried eagerly. “We can’t put Eleanora back together again because we don’t have the source of the Shattering here! The original Host isn’t in this room; she’s sitting locked up in a cell hundreds of miles from here. That’s why the Léarscáil is connecting Fairhaven and Skye together!”
“So, then what did Eleanora mean when she said, ‘The Caller betrayed me?’” Hannah asked. “Betrayed her how?”
“No idea,” I said, shrugging. “But at least now we know how to find out!”
The Council members began conferring and muttering to each other. Mrs. Mistlemoore had hurried over to the corner where the Scribes had set up a small desk and was whispering excitedly with them.
The other Scribe, a mousy young woman with horn-rimmed glasses, raised her hand tentatively, as though she were in class.
“Um, I have made a fairly intensive study of our príosún system,” she said in a squeak of a voice that matched her appearance. “The príosún at Skye was struck by lightning in 1907 and burned to the ground. It was rebuilt and reopened in 1910. Dozens of prisoners were among those killed in the blaze.”
I turned to the Hosts, who all still sat as though sleeping with their chins on their chests. “My God,” I whispered. “She must have burned alive in that place. That’s why the Shards fear fire so much.”
Keira spun around and gestured to Braxton, who stood sentinel at the door. “Call over to the head of Caomhnóir security at the Skye Príosún. Explain the situation and tell them to examine Lucida and report back immediately. If what Jessica says is true, we will have to transport Lucida here in order to reverse this Shattering.”
Braxton nodded briskly and marched from the room. Keira turned back to Mrs. Mistlemoore. “Let’s settle the Hosts back down to rest. If we do indeed have to wait for Lucida to be transported from Skye, it will be many hours before this Casting can be performed.”
“Yes, of course,” Mrs. Mistlemoore said, and immediately hurried toward the Circle to begin the process. Several other Council members hastened to assist her.
Keira skirted the Circle and approached Hannah and me. I felt Hannah pulling back on my hand, like she was fighting the urge to retreat, but Keira smiled at us.
“Thank you both. You may return to your room, for now. We will keep you informed of what we discover.”
§
“You may return to your room,” Milo said, imitating Keira’s lofty voice and proper English accent. “Like you were a pair of brats being excused from the dinner table. I could have bitch-slapped her.”
“Bitch-slapping requires physical form, Milo,” I said. “But we appreciate the sentiment.”
“I don’t think she was trying to be rude,” Hannah said, her voice a bit slurred. She’d been nodding off in her chair, barely able to hold her eyes open.
“Being rude doesn’t require effort, especially when it comes to the Council,” Milo retorted.
More than six hours had passed since the failed attempt at reassembling Eleanora’s Shattered spirit, and still no word had reached us. Milo had even taken to popping out of the room and haunting the corridor outside the Council office, but since he couldn’t get in due to the Wards, he was reduced to listening at the door like a thief. A rosy glow had begun to illuminate the tops of the trees outside our window. I was mind-numbingly tired, but I couldn’t sleep. A tiny part of me was still feeling anxious and jumpy, and that part seemed to shake me mentally any time I drifted too near the beginnings of sleep.
“I just wish
I knew what they were doing,” I yawned. “The longer we’re stuck here, the wilder my theories get. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if they were holding a full criminal trial without us.”
Hannah sat up in her chair looking alarmed.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” I said quickly.
“I am too tired and tense for kidding, Jess!” she admonished.
“I know. I’ll shut up now.”
I slid out of my chair and walked over to the window, watching the bright pink on the horizon bleeding up into the gradually lightening sky. What I really wanted was to talk to Finn, but yet again, societal Durupinen norms kept us separated. I knew he stood only feet away in the corridor, guarding the door to my room, and yet it was impossible for me to just open said door and confide in him. I was afraid. I was frustrated. I was torn about what the future could or should hold for us. The longer those feelings were bottled up, the less sure I was that I could even articulate them clearly.
Ugh, this was why I should just withdraw from romantic life and fulfill my inevitable destiny as a haunted old cat lady. I was clearly too emotionally stunted to handle anything else. Maybe Hannah and I could find a creepy house somewhere and become the second coming of the Lafayette twins, frightening the neighbors with our reclusive, Grey Gardens-esque antics.
As I pondered the possible benefits of spinsterhood, a vehicle appeared at the far end of the Fairhaven entrance road. As it zoomed closer, I determined that it was a black SUV, identical to those driven by the resident Caomhnóir staff.
“There’s a car approaching the castle,” I said over my shoulder.
Hannah sprang from her chair like a startled cat and ran to my side to stare down at the road below. Milo blinked into form on my other side. His eyes, following the vehicle, were already narrowed in suspicion, as though he had a bad feeling about whatever or whoever might be in it.
The great wrought iron gates swung open to admit the SUV, which did not slow as it whipped through them, but zoomed around the circular drive before skidding to an abrupt halt right in front of the main doors, spewing gravel everywhere.
Although we couldn’t see the front doors from our window, we knew they were thrown open at once by the flood of golden light that spilled out across the drive, illuminating the car and the stoic, black-suited men now jumping out of it.
“Caomhnóir?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t recognize them. You?” I asked.
Hannah shook her head.
The Caomhnóir who had exited from the driver’s seat now threw open the back door. Both men leaned into the back seat, seeming to struggle with something, and then they stepped away from the car, now carrying a flailing figure between them. I did not need Milo’s gasp, nor Hannah’s soft cry of horror to help me recognize who it was.
Lucida had returned to Fairhaven Hall.
20
Eleanora Rising
SOMEONE HAMMERED ON THE BEDROOM DOOR, making all three of us yelp. Before I could gather myself to cross the room and open it, the door flew open and Finn’s face appeared around it, his jaw set with anxiety.
“Seamus is here. The Council wants you both back in the hospital ward. They want to warn you that—”
“Lucida’s here,” I said. “We know. We just watched her pull up.”
One of the muscles near Finn’s temple was twitching. “You don’t need to do this.”
I frowned. “Don’t need to do what?”
He stepped fully into the room. “You don’t need to go down there. You can refuse. You are under no obligation to subject yourself to that woman again. The Council has no right to ask it of you, and not one among them would have the nerve to require it.”
I looked at Hannah. She was visibly trembling, and her hands were clenching and unclenching at her sides. I could feel my own palms sweating. The very sight of Lucida had sent my heart leaping into my throat. It now felt like it had lodged itself there, restricting my airway with every frantic beat.
And yet, within that fear was something else. Something made of fire. If I were to find myself in the same room as that woman, I may very well beat the ever-loving crap out of her.
In a weird way, the violent thoughts calmed me. I knew I wouldn’t fall to pieces at the sight of Lucida. The fact that I could summon anger in the face of fear and traumatic memories made me feel stronger, somehow. Then again, I wasn’t really the one I was worried about.
“I’m leaving this entirely up to you,” I said to Hannah, taking both of her hands in mine and forcing her to look me in the eyes. “We won’t go if you don’t want to. The Council can kiss my ass. Or yours.”
“Or mine!” Milo piped up.
I winked at him. “Someone’s ass will be kissed. But seriously, Hannah. What do you want to do? Don’t be brave. Be honest.”
As I spoke, some of the blind animal panic faded from Hannah’s eyes. When she answered me, her voice was surprisingly steady. “I’ll go, because the Council might need a Caller. But I won’t speak to Lucida. Not even while Eleanora is using her, I will not speak to her. I will not compromise on that.”
I squeezed her hands, swelling with pride. “Good for you. And don’t worry about talking. If anything needs to be said, my mouth is big enough for the both of us.”
“I know,” Hannah said, and actually smiled.
“You don’t have to agree with everything I say,” I said, pretending to pout.
Hannah shrugged.
I laughed at her, and then turned to Finn. “Hannah, and my big mouth agree to come to the hospital wing,” I told him.
If he appreciated my attempts at humor, he didn’t let on, although Seamus was standing right in the doorway, so I couldn’t blame him for keeping a determinedly straight face.
“Very well,” he said. “It is your decision. After you, then,” he said, gesturing out into the hallway.
§
One fact was abundantly obvious upon entering the hospital ward: there was nothing to be feared from Lucida in her current state. She sat propped like a child’s doll, back to back with the other Hosts, utterly incapable of independent thought or movement. She was much thinner and frailer than the last time we’d seen her; her tightly curled hair was now shot through with gray and her face looked pinched and haggard. The sight of her so vulnerable was comforting; in fact, Hannah very nearly smiled when she laid eyes upon Lucida in such a state. Her hand certainly relaxed in mine for the first time since I’d taken it, and I finally felt safe to release it from my protective grasp. Milo continued to send calming soothing energy washing over us, but I could see from his expression that he, too, felt that Hannah was in control of herself.
Fiona came and stood next to us. She said nothing at all, but I knew exactly what she was doing; she was determined to support us in some way, even if all she could manage was her physical presence side by side with ours. If Celeste and Savvy hadn’t been trapped in the Circle before us, I knew that they would have stood firmly by our sides as well, and even that knowledge bolstered me.
Keira began speaking the words of the Casting immediately upon our return to the room. Maybe she was afraid we would change our minds when we saw Lucida up close, or else perhaps she simply wanted to end this catastrophe as soon as humanly possible. Either way, she launched into the Casting before the door had properly shut behind us, and a relieved sort of murmur rippled through the rest of the Council as she started.
The energy in the room was already roiling and churning like a stormy sea; the motion of it actually made me feel dizzy. I turned to Hannah, the question on my face, and she answered it without a word. Lucida really had been the last missing piece. All of the Shards were now present, and aching to be reunited. Even as I watched her nod her head, my own head began to nod in unison. I could feel it: the familiar, if damaged, energy of a whole disembodied soul.
Seamus stood beside Keira, ready and waiting to expel the Shards at the precise moment of the Naming. The moment Eleanora’s name fell
from Keira’s lips, Seamus muttered his Casting and thrust his arms forward as though physically pushing the Shards from the Hosts’ bodies. In response to his gesture, the Hosts threw their heads back and opened their mouths. But instead of the piercing screams of pain they’d issued during the first attempt at the Casting, they all gave a long, deep sigh. And on the tide of that collective expulsion of breath, the Shards were borne up into the air above the Hosts.
I wish I had looked away, for there was nothing I had experienced yet in the spirit world that could match the heartbreaking sight of a Shard. Each one was made of the same ephemeral, gently luminescent substance that all spirits were made of, but they appeared unstable. Their energy pulsed and swirled with constant attempts to mold itself into a recognizable mental and physical shape, but they simply morphed from one twisted, partially-formed shape to the next, all the while exuding an oppressive sense of confusion and despair.
I knew I was not the only person in the room to feel the overwhelming sadness of it. All around the Circle, Durupinen faces were rapt with anguish, eyes glistening with tears. We watched, transfixed, as the Shards writhed and contorted themselves, sometimes achieving an almost human physicality before shivering back down into serpentine forms. All the while, a sound halfway between moaning and music rose from them, a chorus of anguish, that vibrated inside my bones and tore at my heart. Hannah gave a shuddering sob beside me. Across the Circle, Fiona had dropped her eyes to the floor, her shoulders shaking.
“Keira. The rest of the Casting. Finish it,” Seamus said gently. Keira shook her head and dragged her sleeve across her face, stifling a sob.
“The Casting. Yes. I…” she fumbled with the book in her hand, swiping at her eyes again when the tears obscured her view of the page. She could barely keep her voice steady as she spoke the rest of the words in a mixture of Gaelic and old Britannic. I recognized just a single word of it: “ceangail,” the Irish Gaelic word for “bind,” which I had come across in my reading about the Binding my mother had used to block spirit contact when I was growing up.