“I’d say her wanting to lock me up is fairly relevant,” I said.
“I didn’t know you planned to move back here,” he responded.
“I’m fairly sure I mentioned it at some point. Between all the death and destruction.” I folded my arms, still shivering. “And you said you wanted to train me. Did you plan this?”
He’d implied a lot more when he’d left… not long after we’d kissed. Okay, so we’d both been ghosts, but considering how long it’d been since I last had any action, that counted. Which was depressing as hell, but being a target for destructive faeries had wreaked havoc on my social life, and when you added in the dead, my chances were shot. After three months apart, it’d have been nice to see some warmth, a sign of interest. For him, it’d have only been a few days since we’d last seen one another.
“I did intend to come back to the guild, but I didn’t expect you to be dragged here against your will,” he answered. “I apologise for that.”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. But I wouldn’t have held it against you if you’d told me Lady Montgomery was your mother upfront.”
“You might change your mind when you reach the final level of training,” he said mildly. “I’ll show you the weapons room.”
And he took off again. That was hardly an answer. Maybe he thought Lady Montgomery was listening in. I hurried after him, catching up beside a half-open door to a room containing several rows of shelves.
“Our props are in here,” he said. “You won’t be allowed to carry them yet, but I’ll give you some pointers.”
He showed me the types of candles for different purposes, witch-made iron spells to keep faeries out of the way while setting up a summoning circle, various forms of dispensing salt, and odd devices shaped like remote controls.
“Spirit sensor,” he explained. “Your spirit sight is strong enough that you probably don’t need one, but there’s also this…” He pulled the back cover off, revealing the spring-like mechanism inside. “It contains concentrated salt. It’ll work on almost all poltergeists, and undead… just don’t waste it on smaller enemies, because they contain a limited amount of shots.” He put it back on the shelf. There were also a number of knives, daggers and other weapons.
“I didn’t know necromancers were combat trained,” I said.
“Some of them are, at least here,” he said. “This place was a stronghold in the faerie invasion, and we lost more members than most cities.”
“Your mother went up against the Sidhe?” My voice rose in surprise.
“Yes, she did. She also converted this place into a temporary shelter and those who couldn’t fight focused on rescuing as many people as possible. The iron kept the Sidhe out.”
“Damn,” I said. “I don’t remember the invasion that well. I didn’t know the necromancers were involved in the resistance.”
“The mages led the assault. That’s how so many of them were killed. Necromancers and witches were more for defence… except here. They say that—” He indicated a long curved knife mounted on the wall—“killed a Sidhe. Its owner is dead.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t picture a necromancer facing off against a Sidhe and walking away in one piece. The same went for most humans, admittedly. River’s mother, though? Maybe I could see it.
“In any case, Edinburgh’s necromancer division is large enough that we can afford to specialise. I moved between three different departments when I reached master level.”
“I didn’t know any of that.”
“We don’t broadcast it. Also, in that small village, the necromancers didn’t have anywhere near the resources we do.”
That’s how they’d nearly been destroyed. And we still didn’t know where those faerie-necromancers had come from, and if there’d been any more of them. Considering the two wraiths I’d encountered today, it wasn’t a phenomenon unique to Foxwood. And knowing the true purpose behind River’s last mission, I’d bet they were the real reason he’d come back here.
“Speaking of resources,” I said in a low voice. “Does this place have a library, or somewhere you keep records of… I don’t know, past necromancers?”
“We do have a reference room and a library.” His tone was neutral, without a hint that he’d guessed the direction of my thoughts. “Lady Montgomery has her own private library, but it’s restricted to the master necromancers.”
Well, crap. I’d better be able to pass this training as quickly as I’d hoped if I wanted to get my hands on classified information which might point to a link between the necromancers and the Gatekeeper’s talisman. If I was willing to risk my secret getting out.
“For now…” He handed me a book. “Basic guide. You probably know it all, but you’ll need to sit some written tests. You’ll also have another practical element, but it’ll be in front of a panel of judges, so nothing bad can happen.”
I wasn’t convinced. “What if I say no? She can’t legally force me to join. I have other obligations.”
“So do all of us,” he said. “The guild pays well enough, when you reach the right level. They’ll also offer you accommodation should you need it.”
“I don’t,” I said. Possibly, I was being petty, but being forced into a decision by nature of my magic—or lack thereof—was something I had entirely too much experience of already.
He finally looked directly at me with those pale emerald eyes. “It’ll be okay,” he said.
He’d said the same when redcaps had stabbed my sister, when the world had been falling apart. And it had, in the end. But whatever skills I might have, I was way out of my depth when it came to non-faerie-related supernatural business. The Sidhe might not give a shit about my existence, but I’d spent a lifetime studying how they operated. The Edinburgh necromancers were an unknown element.
“I’ll think about it,” I said. “I’m not promising anything. I’ve had bloody enough of invisible contracts, let alone ghosts. You know one of them followed me around playing the bagpipes for three hours yesterday?”
His mouth twitched. Finally, something resembling a smile. “There are ways to discourage them from following you. I can teach you. It won’t do any harm for you to learn how it all works here.”
He must know I’d been going by guesswork when I used my powers, self-teaching the best I could, but the necromancers limited the amount of information they allowed to get outside their doors. I wouldn’t have a better shot at finding out what being Gatekeeper actually meant than by joining the guild, and both of us knew it.
River walked me to the doors. “Can I get your number? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Sure.” He offered me his phone. Hey, it wasn’t all bad—at least I’d got River’s number out of this.
I left the oppressively cold building with relief, finding it was growing dark outside. And raining. Pulling my hood up, I began the long walk home. Only when I’d reached the road’s end did I remember that I hadn’t pushed River for information on his experiences in Faerie—including what’d happened to my mother. If he knew, he’d have told me right away… unless the Sidhe said otherwise.
Why was he really here? He’d told me he believed there was a conspiracy in the Grey Vale to act against the Courts, and while the threat seemed to have been eliminated after I’d banished the Winter Gatekeeper, the fact that there were still wraith attacks suggested that she hadn’t been the only person working against the Courts. If there was a wraith epidemic, I could do worse than team up with the people who had all the ghost-eradicating weaponry. Not to mention knowledge.
I ducked into a takeout place to shelter from the rain, figuring that if I was apparently going to luck into a properly paying job within a few weeks, I deserved to grab something to eat that wasn’t instant noodles. I’d been low on cash since I’d left my job, since my only steady work lately came through tutoring and proofreading students’ essays. I charged a pittance, but it was easy money. Being with the necromancers, though, would give me some semblance of s
tructure, and more to the point, a job where the dead hounding me would actually be an advantage. Two ghosts even followed me into the takeout, wailing about not being able to taste anything. I tuned them out, bought some food and ducked out into the rain again, wishing I had one of the necromancers’ hooded cloaks.
I’d been at the guild less than three hours and now I was fantasising about wearing a cape. Next I’d be dreaming of spending my nights hanging out in graveyards. Really, Ilsa. Admittedly, despite the near-death experience, our clash with the Winter Gatekeeper had been like waking up after a long sleep, and now I had magic, I didn’t want to shut it away. I wanted to explore it, and the necromancers could help me do that. I could behave and play by the rules for now—I just hoped the book did, too.
A bird-shaped shadow passed overhead. I looked up into the face of a raven with a white stripe on his forehead. Arden, the Lynn family’s messenger. Or ex-messenger. He cackled and swiped a fry from my takeout container.
“Hey!” I snapped. “You little shit. Where have you been for the last few months?”
“Caw.” I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for a bird to leer at me, but he certainly managed it.
“Why show up now?” I grabbed a handful of fries before Arden stole them. “Come to laugh at me for getting arrested?”
“Be careful with that book.”
“Little late for that.” I sidestepped a puddle, feeling rain sliding down the back of my neck where my hood had fallen down. “You can’t mess with the dead in this city and not draw the necromancers’ attention sooner or later.”
“Caw. Watch your step.”
My foot sank into another puddle, deep enough to drench my entire right ankle. Cackling, the raven disappeared.
“Thanks for nothing.” I shook water out of my shoe, scowling. In fairness, ‘watch your step’ was possibly the most useful piece of advice Arden had given me in the last twenty-odd years, which didn’t say much for his usual record. Considering he’d walked—or flown—alongside at least one Gatekeeper and had been in my family for longer than I’d been alive, he was annoyingly stingy with helpful advice.
I slowed down as I reached the right row of terraced houses. Someone stood outside the door to my house, seemingly oblivious to the pouring rain. I prepared to throw my salt-covered fries on his head, but there was no way an undead could know where I lived, nor have the patience to wait for me. I switched on my spirit sight. He was alive. Human.
I knew him.
My older brother stood on the doorstep.
4
“Hey, Ilsa,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“Morgan,” I said, stunned. “You—what are you doing here?”
He sneezed. “Can I come in and explain? I think your housemates think I’m a vagrant.”
I didn’t blame them for having that impression, given the ragged state of him. His overlong hair was plastered to his unshaven face, while he wore tattered jeans and a jacket, not waterproof. I briefly switched my spirit sight on to check he wasn’t an impostor, but the spirit sight didn’t lie. It was really him.
I let my brother into the hall, where he shook water all over the rug. I beckoned him to follow me upstairs, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake. If I’d been Hazel, I’d have left him outside in the rain until he apologised for not keeping in touch for the last eight years. Really, I had more cause to do so than she did. But curiosity outweighed anger, and some stupid part of me hoped he’d come up with a reasonable explanation for vanishing off the face of the earth. When we were teenagers, if he wasn’t out on drinking binges, he was making impulse purchases using Mum’s bank account. The final straw was when he’d stolen several family heirlooms to sell behind Mum’s back in order to buy a fancy car, at which point she’d kicked him out. None of us had thought he’d actually leave forever, but that was the last time we’d seen him.
“How in the world did you know where I lived?” I asked quietly. “I haven’t been here long.”
“I asked around.” Morgan staggered into my room, dropping a rucksack on the floor. “Knew you’d be here. You were always the smart one.” He spoke in that slurred way of someone drunk trying to pretend they weren’t, and not doing a particularly convincing job of it. He smelled of cheap booze, and leaned on the door at an angle that suggested he was using it for balance. No wonder I’d mistaken him for a lurking undead.
I closed the door behind me, and a sudden rush of emotion welled in my eyes. I wanted to punch him and hug him at the same time. We’d always been closer than I’d been to Hazel, which had made his departure that much more painful. Eight years was a third of my life, not something you could just brush aside.
“How’s the car?” I asked to fill the silence.
“I wrecked it seven years ago.”
Figures. I kept my tone cold. “Last time you texted me, you said you had a job.”
He cast his gaze around the room, lingering for a moment on the desk where I’d left my laptop. “Which job?”
I sighed. “If you think you can sponge off me, I barely make enough to cover rent payment.”
“I wasn’t gonna…”
“You were eyeing up my laptop, you complete tool. I need that for work. If you’re desperate for cash, ask Mum.”
He winced. “No thanks.”
“So you haven’t been in touch with Hazel?” I doubted so. If he was in trouble, I was the one he went to. But that last time, he hadn’t even given me a chance. I wouldn’t have told on him to Mum even when we’d been kids, and I’d thought he knew it.
“No,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “You look different. Older.”
Anger spiked. “I am older,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Last time you saw me I was fifteen. It’s not like I’m a faerie.”
“Definitely not. Faeries are—”
“Morgan, I really wouldn’t finish that sentence.”
“I was going to say, ‘faeries are psychotic’. You weren’t this grumpy last time I saw you, either.”
“I can’t imagine why.” I folded my arms. “So where in hell have you been the last eight years?”
“Around.”
I narrowed my eyes. Generally, members of the Lynn family suffered side effects if they moved too far from the Ley Line running through the middle of the country, so I’d always assumed he hadn’t left Scotland at least. But while Hazel had tried to run away from her responsibilities on occasion when we were younger, she’d never actually gone through with it.
“Get out,” I said.
He straightened upright. “What?”
“If you can’t conjure up a smidgeon of remorse for what you put us through, then I don’t have to deal with your bullshit.”
Bleary eyes fixated on me. “You’re really mad at me.”
“What gives you that impression?” I said, my voice brittle. Don’t even think about crying. “Eight years, Morgan, and not even an apology.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? I thought that was a given.”
“Not with you, it isn’t,” I said. “You can’t stay here forever either.”
“I’m gonna go,” he slurred. “I just need somewhere to crash tonight.”
That sounded familiar. “Only if you promise I won’t wake up to find the police on the doorstep or the house on fire. How are you this drunk at five in the evening?”
“I won’t stay long, I swear. I’ll sleep on the sofa. I just needed… somewhere…” He stared at the wall as though the blank grimy plaster contained the secrets of the universe.
I frowned. “Are you on drugs?”
He jumped. “No. I’m not. Why?”
“Just checking. You’re kind of… twitchy.”
He grimaced. “Don’t make fun, but I think I’m being haunted.”
I stared at him a moment. “Seriously?”
Normally I’d have said he was talking crap… if I hadn’t spent most of the afternoon around necromancers.
“Seriously,” he repeated. “It’s been
following me for days.”
“A ghost?” I asked. “What does it look like?”
He shrugged. “I can’t exactly describe it.”
Okay…
“So when did this ghost appear?”
“Few days ago, in Oban.”
“But… that’s miles away.” Ghosts were usually tethered to one place. It took a particularly strong-willed spirit to leave and follow someone around, and only necromancers could walk back and forth between the veil and the waking world. But I’d never heard of one travelling across the country before.
“Yeah, s’pose it is.”
Right. Once his back was turned, I’d switch my spirit sight on and see if it was true. I didn’t want him guessing what I could do, not until I knew for sure he hadn’t run into Holly or anyone with unsavoury connections.
My phone buzzed. Hazel. “I need to answer this. Can you try not to touch anything?”
I didn’t wait for an answer. I slipped out of the room and downstairs, into the hall, where I could hear the muted noise of several people watching a football game from behind the living room door. I switched on the hall light before accepting the call.
“Hey, Ilsa,” Hazel said. “How’s it going?”
“Hey. You won’t believe the day I’m having.”
I briefly ran through my forced induction to the necromancers, ending with River’s return, and steamrollering through her attempts to ask questions right up to Morgan’s arrival.
“Morgan,” she said. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“You think I’d joke about that?”
“No. That scrounging little shit actually had the nerve to show up on your doorstep?”
I let her blow off steam in a torrent of insults, and when she paused to catch her breath, I said, “Yeah. I know. I’m still trying to figure out where he’s been. God knows. He claims to want somewhere to crash tonight and I couldn’t exactly say no.”
The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy Page 25