“A mile? No. Can you?”
“I didn’t measure the exact distance, but I picked up on my brother at home when I was near the guild.”
“That’s a part of your gift, I’d guess. Later, we’ll see how far you can go.”
I can think of a few places. Mind out of the gutter, Ilsa. He’d eliminated my bad mood, at least, though the idea of standing out in the dark and cold wasn’t particularly appealing. At least I wouldn’t be alone.
We stopped at the graveyard, where a number of cloaked figures grouped around the low stone wall surrounding the place. The sunset gilded the church in molten shades of golden light, accentuating the shadows. Even knowing that everyone here had the spirit sight didn’t quell my growing uneasiness, especially seeing the candles arranged in a circle between the headstones.
“Are they summoning someone?” I whispered to River, who joined the other necromancers. Everyone had pulled their hoods up so I did likewise, relieved to be able to hide my face. The mark might be hidden, but spirits could still see it.
“Their ancestors, yes. The summit is for the dead as much as the living, and it’s tradition to consult necromancers past about current events.”
Like the wraiths. Old Mr Greaves had said that most of the necromancer Guardians were at least partially aware of the Grey Vale and the monsters on the Ley Line. Presumably this graveyard didn’t directly overlap with the Line, otherwise it’d be too volatile to use necromancy nearby without side effects.
As the cloaked figures gathered in line, two of them stepped towards the circle. I recognised Lady Montgomery’s purposeful stride even with her face hidden. The candles lit up with a snap and several ghostly figures appeared within the circle. Lady Montgomery spoke to them, too quietly to hear. I trod from one foot to the other, growing cold from standing still, and hoped they’d get to the point soon.
“They have to go through the formalities,” River said. “I think she’s telling them about the wraith.”
“River?” Her voice rang out. “Come here and speak to Lord Simeon.”
River stepped towards the circle, subtly hiding me from view. I stood tense, unable to rid myself of the suspicion that more than the ghosts watched me. Was it paranoia, or like when I’d sensed the wraith the first time? My mark wasn’t invisible in the spirit world, and it was a damn good job nobody had thought to give me a second glance.
Calm down, Ilsa. The people who are haunting you are right there.
The circle shimmered with white light, and the murmur of voices passed over my head. My skin prickled all over, and I reached out with my spirit sight.
There was a shout from outside the graveyard. Morgan.
8
Heart sinking, I climbed over the wall, running in his direction. My spirit sight snapped on and I sensed him behind the wall, cowering away from a transparent figure. Not one of the necromancers.
“Shove off,” I snapped at the ghost.
It turned on me, its body shimmering all over, reforming into that of a shaggy creature the size of a cow. Oh crap. Not a hellhound, but I couldn’t tell if the beast was solid or transparent. Reaching for a weapon, I backed away as teeth snapped inches away from me. Ghosts couldn’t be solid, which left one option—a faerie creature like a sluagh. Partly physical, partly spirit, and a shapeshifter. No magic, so no use relying on my defence mechanism—but one major weakness.
I dug in my pocket for my iron shards and flung them at the sluagh, sending it scrabbling backwards out of range. Its dog-like form flipped through several other dog breeds and settled on a small basset hound. I ignored its pitiful whine and grabbed my knife, glad I’d armed myself to face worse than ghosts.
The sluagh’s whine turned to a growl, and it grew again, teeth lengthening, shoulders hunching, its face a grotesque mix of human and dog like an illustration of a werewolf. It leaped at me and I swiped my knife sideways, but the blade passed through its body like it wasn’t there. Being part spirit, part corporeal, it could deflect some physical attacks. I stabbed again, and the knife passed through the sluagh’s horrifically mangled face. With my free hand, I grabbed the salt canister in my sleeve. The shapeshifter lunged forwards, and I flung the salt into its face. Hissing in fury, the creature reeled back. So salt does hurt it, huh. Tapping into the book’s power, I let its cold light wash over my hands.
The sluagh reeled back, a strangled cry ripping from its throat. Oh, now you know who I am?
Necromantic power sprang to my fingertips, rushing towards the creature. It flew through the air and landed flat on its back, where it changed forms again, flipping between a ghoulish over-sized doll and a giant dog, and finishing on a human child-sized beast.
Green light collided with the necromantic power pouring from my hands, and the sluagh exploded into fragments. River stepped up beside Morgan, lowering his hood. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Bloody creature kept turning transparent.”
“They do that. Faerie magic does work on them. What…” He looked quizzically at Morgan, who’d pushed himself up against the wall, his jaw slack.
Of course, Lady Montgomery chose that moment to march up to us.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Faerie beasts,” River interjected before I could speak. “They attacked Ilsa, and…”
“Morgan’s my brother,” I said quickly.
Her gaze snapped onto me. “You invited a non-necromancer to our summit?”
“No, I guess he followed me.” He stared off into space, apparently not hearing a word we said. “Or a ghost. He thinks he’s being haunted.”
“Is that so?” She sounded so much like River when she used that tone.
“I didn’t see anything when I checked,” I admitted, “but we’re related, so it’s possible he picked up on what was going on here. I should make sure he gets home safely.”
Please, don’t draw attention in front of the others. The sluagh was a nasty piece of work, but I dreaded to think how Morgan would react to the attention of the other necromancers. I needed to shoot her suspicions in the foot before both of us wound up deep in crap.
Lady Montgomery looked at him, her nostrils flaring. “Is he a necromancer?”
“No, he has no magic,” I told her. “He’s also drunk and probably won’t remember this later. I need to get him home before he makes a public fool of himself.”
“Is that likely to happen?”
“Yeah,” I said, and instantly felt bad. Even though it was true, I didn’t need strangers to cast judgement on my family members’ terrible life choices.
Lady Montgomery said, “I need to ensure nothing else is present near the graveyard. Come and talk to me tomorrow morning. River, I want you to assess whether it’s necessary for us to bring Ilsa’s… family members in.” She gave Morgan a distasteful look.
River nodded and walked up to join me. “It’s late now, but I think you should bring your brother to the guild tomorrow,” he said in a low voice as his mother returned to the others in the cemetery.
“If he’s up for it, I will. But I need to get him home for now. I’ll let you know later, okay?
He gave me a look, then nodded. “Let me know if anything comes up.”
“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hope so.
I looked for Morgan, only to find he was already walking away.
“Hey.” I ran after him and caught up. “You know, by ‘don’t do anything stupid’, I meant, ‘don’t follow me to the graveyard at night and get jumped by a faerie monster’.”
“That’s where your date took you? A necromancer summit?”
“You followed me. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“You’re the one who didn’t tell me you were a necromancer.”
“I’m new to the guild and I didn’t want you screwing everything up for me. So you’re going to stay in the house tonight, and first thing tomorrow, we’re off to the guild so we can get this sorted out once and
for all. Got it?”
“Whatever,” he muttered. His shoulders were hunched, his face pale and drawn.
I swallowed down my anger, knowing how it felt to be slammed in the face by unwelcome revelations. “You scared the shit out of me twice today, Morgan. I’ve been a necromancer less than a week and I didn’t expect to have to rescue my own family from certain death before I was even qualified.”
“No way you’re not qualified,” he said. “You have to be, to kill one of those things.”
“I can explain—”
“No, you’re right,” he said. “I’m not to be trusted. Like the necromancer lady said. Keep your secrets.”
We walked the rest of the way to the house in silence.
I woke hourly that night, tossed between nightmares of undead attacking my family, and when I finally dozed off for real, I jerked awake moments later to the sound of the door closing. I was on my feet in seconds. Grabbing my hoody and shoving my feet into my shoes, I ran downstairs and caught up to Morgan halfway across the road.
“Dammit, Morgan.”
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at me. I sidestepped around him and waved a hand in front of his face, then tapped into the spirit world. A female figure hovered alongside him.
“Hey!” I said. “Get away from my brother.”
“You’ll do.” She glided over to me. Her transparent form shimmered against the grey. “Nobody can see me. Help me.”
“You’re dead,” I told her. “Go away and leave us alone.” Bloody ghosts. My head pounded, and it hit me too late that I’d left the book in my room. No wonder I felt out of sorts, aside from the obvious.
Morgan kept walking. I moved in front of him, thinking fast. Either he was possessed or someone was controlling him, neither of which I knew how to deal with when the person was living. I hadn’t brought any weapons, and while I could probably overpower him in the state he was in now, every step drew us further away from the book. Necromantic power sprang to my palm and I gave him a firm shove. He tripped backwards over his own feet, and the ghost appeared again.
“Go away,” I said in a low, warning voice, my hands glowing with kinetic power. The ghost took one look at me and faded into greyness.
Morgan staggered forwards, his eyes opening. “Ilsa?” He frowned at me. “What are you doing?”
“Stopping you sleepwalking.” I let the power die down. “Maybe I should have locked you in.”
“I thought you did.”
I cast my mind back, remembering putting the bolt on the door. “Apparently you can unlatch the door when sleepwalking.”
“Huh.” He frowned. “I thought I was awake.”
“You were following a ghost,” I told him.
He stared at me. “What?”
“How can you not remember?” I didn’t think ghosts could mess with people’s minds, and she’d been human. So either he’d been half asleep, or something even weirder was going on. Given my track record lately, I wouldn’t go with the easy option. “Was it the same with the graveyard? When you followed me?”
He paused for a moment. “I heard a voice.”
“The ghost?”
“No. But it was creepy as hell.”
He walked back into the house, and I followed. “Are you sure you aren’t on drugs?” I asked him. “I don’t think the necromancers will check, but I want to rule out any other explanations for you hearing creepy voices.”
“I get what it sounds like.” He took up a position on the vacant couch in front of the TV. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. But I think the ghosts want me dead.”
“I’m beginning to get that impression, too.”
I ran up to my room to retrieve the Gatekeeper’s book, having had about enough of the sensation of tapping on the back of my skull. “Stop that,” I muttered to it. As an afterthought, I stuck it inside the necromancer guidebook and went back downstairs. I brushed shifter fur off the remaining armchair that wasn’t covered in witch props, and put my feet up on the coffee table, balancing both books on my knees.
“What’s that?” asked Morgan.
I held up the cover of the necromancer handbook in answer, glimpsing the headline on the page underneath. The Sacred Oath of Necromancy. The necromancers’ Sacred Oath was to protect the veil. If I was properly inducted, I’d have to swear it, too—except I’d broken almost all their rules when I’d banished the Winter Gatekeeper’s spirit, so I’d be implicitly lying at best. I’d deal with that one later.
Skipping back to the Gatekeeper’s book, I searched for the section on faerie spirits for the word sluagh. I couldn’t help noticing that there were no instructions on how to actually summon any of them.
The book shifted in my hands as though in reproach. I don’t actually want to summon one. I want to know how the person who did managed to do so without being detected.
I didn’t think the book could read my thoughts, but the pages flipped by themselves, taking me to the back section—dark magic, blood magic and evil necromancy. That was it. The title stood alone, with no other words on the page. I got the message. Either it was beyond my skill level or I wasn’t allowed to learn even the theory.
Okay… then I need to look up if it’s possible for a ghost to influence someone from far away.
The pages flipped approvingly. Wait, since when did books have feelings? Even faerie talisman ones? I was definitely reading too much into its rustling pages. At least it wasn’t calling me an amateur any longer.
According to the book, ghosts could temporarily possess someone if the force used to summon them was particularly strong, or if there was another powerful source of necromantic energy nearby. Same with attacking people in spirit form. What those two faerie-necromancers had done was no common skill. Most necromancers couldn’t leave their bodies behind without using a circle on themselves as a tether.
But my brother hadn’t seen any spirits. He’d heard them, if I believed him, but had been completely oblivious to that ghost following him. I flipped through the book again, but it only covered the Gatekeeper’s talents, not other supernaturals or even general necromancy. I’d heard of telepathy… but that was a mage talent, and a rare one. And there weren’t any mages in our family.
I looked up to see Morgan watching me oddly. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. You always used to do that at home. I could drop something on your head while you were reading and you probably wouldn’t notice.”
“Hmm.” I didn’t particularly want to stride down memory lane, not with our present dilemma swamping everything else.
“Uh… I was gonna ask what you’ve been up to since I left, but… I guess you answered that.”
Where to even start? He’d left the summer before I turned sixteen, and not long after, I’d gone slightly off the rails in my own way. Rather than drunk and disorderly behaviour, my own teenage rebellion had involved hooking up with a local half-Sidhe. Actually, I didn’t mind too much that Morgan had missed that part, considering the trouble I’d had keeping Mum from finding out. But he’d missed Hazel taking up her position as Gatekeeper when she’d turned eighteen. He’d missed all our exam results and leaving school and my university graduation… okay, only Hazel had shown up for that, since Mum had been in Faerie.
I put the book down and said, “Does that mean you’ll enlighten me on what led you to turn up here looking like death warmed over?”
“Maybe.”
I grimaced. “There’s not a whole lot to say. You know I’ve been at university. Hazel’s more or less Mum’s full time assistant, but I think she hoped I’d stick around and help, too.”
He snorted. “Obviously.”
“You left me,” I said, annoyed at his flippant tone. “You know why I’m mad at you, right? You left me to deal with the faeries’ bullshit on my own. If this necromancer ability of mine hadn’t shown up when it did, I’d be dead.”
“How in hell is that my fault?” he wanted to know.
“Look, e
ven if you discount the fact that I’ve had to save you from certain death since you came here, our family’s being targeted by more than Hazel can deal with.” I swallowed. “You—I get that you didn’t know any of that. But you used to have my back, Morgan, and you left me alone for eight sodding years. You can’t expect me to forget that.”
“Guess not.” He paused. “I really don’t have anything to report. You know what I’ve been doing. Running into trouble. Running away. Same old.”
“When did the voices start?” I asked him.
“When did I ever say they stopped?”
I lowered the book. “You said you were being haunted for a few weeks. Are you telling me this isn’t the first time you’ve heard voices?”
He shrugged. “Mum wouldn’t listen and said I was talking crap. Hazel didn’t give two shits and you spent all your time tailing the two of them around. So…”
“You’ve seriously been hearing ghosts your whole life?”
He shrugged again. “Yeah. What I said.”
“I would have believed you. We lived in the Sidhe’s property next to a village full of supernaturals. Not having magic is unusual.”
“It’s done now.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said. “Not if you’re hearing murderous ghosts.”
“They’re not murderous, just creepy,” he said. “I can’t always hear what they’re saying. It’s more… odd words, occasionally, and flashes of images.”
“I’m gonna ask the necromancers,” I said. “This is way out of my area, but you really should have told someone.”
“Mum thought I was just trying to get attention,” he muttered.
I winced. He might well be telling the truth. Considering all the other stunts he’d pulled to draw her away from Hazel and her Gatekeeping responsibilities, though, no wonder she hadn’t listened.
“Do you actually have any spare clothes with you?” I asked. “Because if you want to make a good impression on the necromancers, you might want to try not dressing like a vagrant.”
The Gatekeeper's Curse- The Complete Trilogy Page 29